Clifton liked to watch. In a way that’s what led to his banishment, I guess. I didn’t know at the time that it could have been called a glorious banishment, but my more recent one certainly qualified for that.
I was in my second season as a dancer aboard cruise ships. I worked as one of ten dancers – five women and five men – and two women and two men singers who also did a little dancing. We worked up two programs a year and went from cruise to cruise. When we could get full booking, we’d do two performances each of two shows on a ten-to-twelve day’s cruise in exchange for a cabin bed and pretty good board, some world sightseeing, and income that was more steady than trying to land musicals of any length on Broadway or the road.
The biggest downside of this was rather strange – it was the pitch and roll of the cruise ships. They have this down to a science enough that most passengers can manage it without giving it much of a thought – but get up on stage and try and do some fancy footwork while you’re also fighting for balance and see how long before you’ve gotten a sprained ankle. That’s why we have five of each gender for dancers. The routines are designed for four of each, which can be scaled down to two in a pinch. We have to maintain the extras to guard against being banged up.
I guess a dancer being banged up also figures in Clifton’s glorious banishment story – but my own experience leads into an update on his.
I’d felt quite pleased about this eleven-day Eastern Caribbean cruise gig we’d landed. I’d done the landing of the job myself. The cruise ship was sailing out of Bayonne, New Jersey, and, at a time that the troupe didn’t have a cruise and I was nursing a sprained ankle, I met a guy several months before this sailing in a bar in New York City. He was looking for what I was in the mood to give and we clicked pretty good. It was a Friday night, and he took me back to his hotel room and fucked me into Sunday evening.
He was interested in more than just a straight fuck. After what were pretty short preliminaries of him establishing control by going down on me and then forcing me to my knees to suck him, instead of leading me to the bed, he took me right there on the carpet. He pushed me down on the floor and grabbed my hips in strong hands and pulled me up onto my shoulders and stood over me and fucked down into my channel with my legs spread wide. While he was fucking me, he kept corkscrewing around my torso in a 360-degree rotation that had his slightly upward curved, long and rather thin, cock moving the full circle around my channel, with his cock head caressing my channel on all sides. It was a pretty nifty feel – and I’ve got to admit that I have been felt in my day.
I’d told him I was a stage dancer, so I guess he wanted to try my flexibility out – and it was quite an interesting testing. And it was easy on my ankle too.
It turns out we were both in the cruise industry. He was the cruise director on a company sailing out of Bayonne, and I was a dancer in a troupe looking for work on such cruises.
After that first, frenzied ‘get-acquainted’ fucking and having found he liked me enough to do it again, Keith showed me that he liked to give massages that turned more and more intimate as his pre-sex play. And, as a dancer, I knew how to give and liked taking massages almost as much as I enjoyed the sex that followed.
He wanted more of what I could give him and so he offered my troupe this spot on an Eastern Caribbean cruise. I was well aware of the very strict rule of no sex between the crew and the passengers – and it often got boring just to get off with the other guys in the dance troupe – but the cruise director pointed out to me that there was no rule against sex between the members of the crew as long as they kept it on the hush-hush and didn’t let it interfere with their jobs, which required their full attention during the many hours they were on duty.
His offer seemed like a win-win situation, and the cruise was a pretty plush one, so I didn’t have any trouble getting the rest of the dancers and singers to sign on.
Everything would have gone OK – I spent more time in the cruise director’s cabin giving and getting massage, head, and fucking than I was spending anywhere else on the cruise. But Keith was good at it, so it was easy to think that everything was fitting together real well.
But Keith was the jealous type – and also vindictive.
It was actually the mid-thirties blond hunk who sat in the first row of the ship’s theater during the night’s first performance while we were still sailing out to sea and steaming past Bermuda on our way to San Juan who was my undoing.
He came to both shows – and managed to sit at the front both times. And the way he stared me down and looked me up and down while we were performing told me in no uncertain terms that he was interested. He’d applaud and cheer and cat call when I was doing my featured spots, and when he wasn’t doing that I could see that he was sitting there with his hand on his crotch. That night he was waiting for me in the side corridor when we’d changed and came out of the stage door.
Keith was already waiting for me in his cabin. After the first show, he told me that I’d put him in heat and he wanted to fuck – he said he’d arranged for his assistant to cover the rest of what he had to do in the way of passenger programming that evening and that he wanted me to come straight back to his cabin for some ‘special’ sex. Although Keith was bigger and older than I was, he’d been a Broadway dancer himself, and he was still flexible enough to take me in some really interesting positions, like the one he’d used our first time, after we’d done our massage preps.
But here the muscle guy was – older than Keith, but still in tip top shape, a lot more muscular and better looking in the face than Keith was – standing at the stage door, tongue hanging.
‘Hey,’ he said, putting his hand on my arm to make sure I knew he was talking to me and not to one of the other dancers who was coming off the backstage with me.
‘Hey yourself.’
‘I enjoyed your dancing . . . a lot.’
‘Thanks. I guess that’s why you made both shows.’
‘You saw me?’
‘Yeah. We can make out faces pretty well about three rows back. You were a little hard to miss.’
‘Being that obnoxious was I?’
‘No, being that good looking.’ If there was any doubt in his mind which way I swung, I could tell that I’d just dispelled that. He moved closer and put his hand on my butt. I knew I was going to have to cut that off, but I didn’t really want to – certainly not until I’d enjoyed his touch for a few moments.
‘Ummm, I thought maybe you’d let me buy you a drink.’
‘Sorry, I can’t,’ I answered, trying to be polite, which is rule number one for cruise control in the care and feeding of paying passengers. But I wasn’t really having trouble keeping a smile on my face either. He was a real looker, and if we didn’t have this stringent, drop-dead rule about fraternizing with the passengers, I’d be happy to jump in bed with him in an instant.
He looked glum, and then even more glum when I put my hand on the one he had been squeezing my butt cheek with and gently moved it away.
‘Listen, sorry. I have an appointment, someplace I have to be now. But also I’m afraid there’s a solid rule around here about getting cozy with the passengers. Both you and I could be kicked off the ship.’
‘You don’t find me attractive enough, do you?’ he asked. He had such a wounded puppy dog look – and looked so good doing it – that I could have knelt right there in the corridor and given him a blow job that clearly showed what I really felt about him. God knows I’d done it on impulse enough when I felt like it and there was no impediment.
And I’m not particularly shy either.
‘You look plenty good to me,’ I said. ‘I’d sit on your cock right here in the hall if it wouldn’t get us kicked off the ship. Hold it until we’re back in Bayonne, and I’ll march right off the ship and into a motel room if you want. Hell, I’ll let you do me in the backseat of your car in the cruise line’s parking lot, if you can’t wait for it.’
For some reason this seemed to heat him up rather than cool him down. I guess I’m not all that great at cruise control.
‘I know a place up on deck topside nobody’ll be at this time of night. We could – ‘
‘Sorry. As I said, I have a meeting with my boss I’m already late for – and we can’t on the cruise. That’s a rock solid no-no.’
‘I’ll pay,’ he said with a whimper. ‘I’ll pay off anyone who has to look the other way.’
‘It’s not a question of money. I need this job. If you still want to do it when we get back to Bayonne, just whistle.’
I physically disengaged his grip on my arm, but also gave him a smile, and started moving down the corridor. I ached to go topside with him to see if he was as well equipped and as proficient as his looks suggested. But . . .
‘My name is Seth,’ he said to my back as I moved away from him. ‘Here, write down where I can find you once we get back to Bayonne.’
‘I’d be willing to meet you on the gangway in Bayonne,’ I answered. But then I sighed and turned and saw that he was holding out a business card and a pen. I looked at the business card before I jotted a telephone number and address where I could be reached when I was in New York – a two-bedroom apartment I rented with nine other guys who operated out of the city like I did but who, like me, weren’t there all that often. According to his card, he was a stock broker in the big city – or at least claimed to be. The clothes he was wearing and the flashy Rolex watch on his wrist bore out the claim.
‘I’m Dale,’ I said as I handed his card back to him and turned to continue on to my tryst with the cruise director, Keith, who indeed had a very inventive approach that evening. He turned me on my side and strapped my thighs and calves together and fucked me sideways, which gave us a really tight fuck.
I put Seth out of my mind after our brief encounter – or tried to – because his failure to offer to take me back to his cabin – which would have been very tempting regardless of the rules – or to take me right from the ship when it docked back in New Jersey screamed of commitments he had. He probably wasn’t alone on the cruise and wouldn’t be leaving the ship alone.
I’d already had enough in my life of married guys cruising for that little extra exotic experience with variety tail.
So, I forgot Seth, which was pretty easy to do considering some of the other offers I was getting from bored cruise passengers on the high seas – both male and female – and the new ways Keith was showing me he could mine my channel. At least I forgot about Seth until three nights later, after we had left after a day in St. Thomas and were headed for Samana in the Dominican Republic.
We did the second of the two sets of shows for the cruise that night while we were sailing, and there was Seth, tongue hanging out, hand on crotch, in the front row during the first show.
He wasn’t there for the second show, though, which made me feel a little deflated. It had been flattering that he had wanted me so bad. I thought that he certainly could cool off fast.
In the middle of the second show, Keith told me to come to his cabin when we were finished.
He was on the bed, on his stomach, just in a pair of athletic shorts, when I entered the room. By routine, I stripped down to the altogether and straddled his thighs and began to massage his back and shoulders – and then down to work his glutes and his thighs, calves, and feet. He was hard when he turned over and I only briefly massaged his chest and hips until I was massaging his cock with my mouth.
He slowly face fucked me until he murmured he was about ready to come, and then I finished him with my hand. He pulled my face down to his and we kissed. While we were doing so, he turned me onto my back and began running his hands over my body, pushing and pulling, and kneading – but only with one hand, because the other one was busy stroking my cock.
He knew how to bring me to the edge but not take me over, so that I began to writhe under him and beg him for his cock.
At that point, he laughed and turned me onto my belly. With a hand on my lower belly, he raised me onto my knees and I felt his knees pressing into my hips on either side and the long slide of him into my channel, and he rode me slowly and deeply. He slid back out after several minutes of long-stroking and left me briefly. He’d pressed me flat again on my stomach as I felt his weight lift off me, and then my thighs were being straddled and forced together by knees, and while my back and arms were being massaged, a hard cock was sliding up and down across my hole between my butt cheeks.
I begged him for it again and moved with the rhythm of the stroking – and then jerked and gave a little cry as the head of the cock broached my rim and was slowly sliding into me.
I thought that Keith must have had his Wheaties that morning because he seemed thicker and seemed to be mining me deeper than ever before.
But then I looked over at the sofa beside the bed and saw that Keith was sitting there and stroking his cock and watching me being doggy fucked by . . . I discovered Seth, when I cranked my head back to see who was doing this to me.
Rules or no rules, I was being covered by a blond hunk who already had his thick, hard cock a good nine inches up into my channel. So, I gave in and went wild with the fuck – he was entertaining and tantalizing me, with a tattoo of three short digs from rim to prostate and then to long, deep plunges, a twist of the hips and then all of the way out and then a kiss of my rim with a rotation of his cock head before the next shallow penetration. I lifted my hips to his pelvis and started thrusting back hard with his first plunging stroke – and then he lost control of his artistry and just started pistoning me hard and deep in long strokes while I went wild and cried out for him and twisted and turned my hips and thrust back to capture the full length and girth of a cock that seemed to grow with each plunge.
We went on for what seemed to be an eternity. From time to time, I looked over at Keith who was beating his cock furiously, but who had a little frown on his face. The blond and I exploded together in a harmonious cry of release and ecstasy and we both fell to the surface of the bed, he stretched beside me, legs akimbo, and arms in an entwining embrace.
We stayed that way until I heard his breath regularizing. He may have thought he was done, but I wanted more. I reached between his legs and wrapped my hand around his cock. He was in good shape and virile, so it didn’t take much to arouse him into action again. I turned onto my back and opened my legs and made him take me again – with kissing and nipple chewing and heavy sighing this time.
He paid Keith at the cabin door, with a big wad of greenbacks. Keith tossed a fifty on the bed beside me and told me I needed to leave – that he had another event to announce within a half hour. He’d always let me shower in his cabin afterward, but this time he tossed my clothes at me and I quickly pulled them on and slipped out of the cabin.
The next afternoon, I and my luggage were standing on a pier in Samana, Dominican Republic – with a voucher for a plane ticket home, but a banishment from the cruise line’s sailings into perpetuity.
That’s how I found out Keith was both the jealous and vindictive type. He’d taken Seth’s money to set me up for a fuck in his cabin – but obviously I had enjoyed the fuck too much and had given Seth what Keith perceived I wasn’t giving him. So, I was put off the ship. There was no hint that Seth would be put off the ship too, though.
But, no matter, really, as it worked out. Seth hooked up with me again in New York later, and he was as great a fuck on land as he’d been on the sea. So I’d call my experience with Keith’s cruise line a glorious banishment.
* * * *
As luck would have it, I knew that my old dance master, Clifton Ware, himself had been banished to the Dominican Republic – and to a villa in the mountains above Samana, as a matter of fact. So, I thought it would be nice to check in with him as long as I was here.
Clifton was a funny guy. He was a master dance teacher – as sure a ticket to a Broadway audition as a dancer can get. Any guy would have been happy to let him fuck them for what he could teach them – or to fuck him, if that was what he preferred. But Clifton preferred to watch. He was a voyeur. And he didn’t apologize for it. He didn’t crave the physical contact himself. He wanted to watch it while he masturbated.
That’s what had gotten him banished at the dancing school I attended in New York in preparation for getting in Broadway shows. The other master teacher at the school, Jacques, did like to fuck his protégés. He called it the ultimate control, necessary for discipline, and he wouldn’t teach anyone, male or female, who would not totally surrender to his will.
I had done so gladly. I’d known what I was and had fucked my way into the attention of drama coaches and dance masters in my home city, state, and region before moving on to New York.
Jacques liked to fuck, but he didn’t like to be watched doing it. Clifton, conversely, got his rocks off solely by watching. One day on the upper landing of a set of stairs on a stage set, Jacques had been instructing one of his students to pirouette with Jacques’s rod up his ass, when he noticed that Clifton was watching them from the side of the stage and doing himself with his hand. Jacques had flown into a fury of ‘being spied on by that pervert’ and in the process had fallen down the stairs and broken himself up so badly that he never was able to dance again. He continued to teach the dance, but he no longer could demonstrate positions and he felt only half the master from that point forward.
He naturally blamed Clifton and threatened lawsuit – and jail time, if he could – not to mention a blade between the ribs some night when Clifton least expected it. Jacques was of the Latin temperament.
Clifton’s ancestry was steeped in cooler climates and emotions. In response to Jacques’s threats, Clifton just disappeared. Only years later did I learn that he had escaped to the Dominican Republic and was living there in well-enough style.
Well enough was somewhat of an understatement I was to discover. When I contacted Clifton, he was delighted to have me come visit him – and to stay as long as I wanted.
I took a taxi from the Samana harbor up winding roads into a mountaintop area called El Vista Cayo, where Clifton had a rambling villa with magnificent views down into the Bay of Samana and the harbor city of the same name.
‘Ah, Mr. Ware,’ the young cab driver said when I gave him the address. ‘Yes, yes we all know where he lives – all of the young men know where Mr. Ware lives.’ And then he gave a little laugh and smacked his lips together and leered over his shoulder at me.
Luis, Clifton’s ‘do everything’ man, met me at the door. He was tall and well-built and big white smiled and bulging in the crotch and a deep chocolate brown.
Within the hour of my arrival I was on my back on a lounge chair on a deck off the back of the villa looking down toward the sea, Luis’s plump cock up my channel, and the happy native was doing a plunging dance between my legs that was having me moaning and squealing with ecstasy. Clifton was sitting close to us in a deck chair and stroking his cock and still declaring how happy he was to see me. I didn’t need much convincing to see how happy he was.
I hadn’t really been asked if I wanted it – although I might have been sending signals I couldn’t control as I watched Luis pad around the house in just shorts. But I wasn’t a stranger to Clifton. He knew I liked being taken by surprise and manhandled. And he liked watching that happen to me. One minute Clifton and I were hanging on the rail of his deck, looking on my departing cruise ship in the harbor, and the next Luis was kneeling behind me, beefy hands on my thighs and my trousers and briefs down around my knees and his big lips sucking on my rim. I squirmed and moaned as Clifton turned to watch and slid down the rail far enough to get a good view of what was going on. In short order, Luis was covering my back with his heaving chest, holding my wrists far out at the sides on the rails and his dick moving deep inside me. At Clifton’s direction when the cruise ship had rounded the rocks at the promontory at one end of Samana Bay, Luis turned me and lowered me to a lounge chair and began pumping me in earnest.
Clifton was happy and Luis was happy. I was happy too. Although I didn’t think I’d be able to take a steady diet of this for very long.
That evening after a delicious dinner under the gathering stars on the deck, Clifton proposed an outing.
‘I feel like young Dominicans tonight. Shall we go down into the town?’
We did so. Clifton obviously knew just where to go – and had done so frequently before. We had a couple of drinks in a bar, but after only the second one, we also had a couple of very young, slender, but supple and pretty-of-face Dominican men willing to come back up the mountain with us in Clifton’s old Mercedes sedan.
A good part of the night, we, Clifton and I, watched the two young men fuck each other – in poses Clifton would set, making full use of his master training in the dance. The two sixty-nine sucked and then they took turns fucking each other – happy to move at Clifton’s bidding, obviously making more at this than whatever the alternatives were. The pay obviously was good, and they knew that Clifton himself would never lay a hand on them. If they’d gone with one of the Dominican thugs, they might not have ever come back after the experience. Clifton, though, would just sit there and watch, with slitted eyes and a hand working his own cock.
In the early hours of the morning, while Luis was driving the two, exhausted, but happy young men back down into Samana, Clifton and I sat on the deck, bottles of Presidente beer in hand, and watching the dawn struggle to subdue the night. In the afterglow of an arousing and fulfilled evening, I broached what I thought would be a welcome revelation to Clifton.
‘You know you are still a legend on Broadway, don’t you?’ I said.
‘That is very pleasant to hear,’ Clifton answered, although he sounded more like he knew that was a basic truth and his due rather than that he was flattered that he was remembered after all these years in such a volatile profession.
‘I haven’t the slightest doubt you could snap up an excellent job or two if you were back in New York.’
‘I certainly would hope so.’
‘And you could come back now, you know.’
This arrested his interest. ‘How so? How so could I come back to New York now?’
‘Jacques is dead. Perhaps you hadn’t heard. He had a heart attack early last year – rather a messy deal it was. He was fucking a young college student during a session he was supposed to be teaching and just keeled over dead, with his dick hanging out and all. In any event, he’s gone. There’s no one to sue you or make trouble for you otherwise in New York now. You could come back. I’m sure they would like to have you back.’
‘Humph. Of course they would,’ he said. But I could sense the wheels of assessment starting to roll in his brain.
At that point Luis returned from his driver duties and popped his head out of the door onto the deck.
‘Ah, there you are, Luis. I feel a bit of arousal. Could you fuck our young guest, Dale, for me again now please.’ Spoken so matter-of-factly. Like he was some sort of all-powerful potentate – which in his DR setup perhaps he was.
‘I think I’m too tired for that,’ I said with a laugh. I also stood and put my nearly finished bottle of Presidente on the table and started to move toward the door into the house. ‘I think I should get some sleep now. As nice as the invitation sounds, though.’
‘It’s not an invitation, Dale. It’s the price of the room and board here.’
‘Mr. Ware?’ Luis asked, blocking my way into the house with his bulk.
‘Yes, please, a good fuck, Luis. I feel like watching a good fuck.’
‘No, really, I – ‘
That’s as far as I got, though.
‘On the dining room table, if you please, Luis,’ Clifton said, as he rose from his chair and unzipped his trousers.
Still trying to be polite and struggling only slightly in disbelief, I wasn’t that hard for Luis to control. He literally picked me up and carried me into the dining room, where he laid me down on my back. He pulled my shorts and briefs off my legs in one swift move and pulled my T-shirt over my head in the next. His knees were pushing my thighs apart and the heel of one hand in my sternum was pinning me firmly to the table at my chest, while soon – much sooner than I was really prepared for it – his dick was pinning my pelvis to the table as well – driven straight through me and into the wood of the table top, it felt like.
Clifton settled in a dining room chair and sighed and moaned. I initially objected and grunted and groaned, but Luis’s cocking was just too good – and there were many fetishes that moved me. Being taken like this, roughly and forcefully was a primary one of mine – and Clifton’s fortune, and mine too, I suppose, was knowing this was so. It wasn’t long before I didn’t care a bit that my vote hadn’t been taken, and I was crying out for Luis to dig deeper and to stroke longer – and then faster, faster, faster. And when I shuddered and came, I just laid back, my eyes on Clifton taking his pleasure, as Luis grunted and fucked on . . . and on.
Clifton knew me and my weaknesses too well from earlier days.
I slept almost until noon, but was awakened by Luis having his breakfast – me – in my bed, while Clifton sat nearby and masturbated and watched with slitted eyes.
While we were lunching on the deck, Clifton pointed out that another cruise ship was in.
‘After lunch we go down into Samana, yes. I think I know a Lithuanian and a couple of Russians on the crew of that boat who have very nice cocks and who would be happy to let me watch.’
I didn’t quite know what to say about that, and so I said nothing. Within an hour Clifton and I were in his Mercedes and skidding down the mountain.
‘They should have had time to get to the bar by now,’ he was muttering to himself as he shifted gears. ‘Yes, we have a very nice bar in Samana – behind another building and a walk up. Only those who like such places even know it’s there.’
I could very well see how a tourist couldn’t have found the place. It was four blocks off the waterfront, when most anything that looked like a half-way prosperous joint was set no more than two blocks in. The bar was approached through a driveway abutted by one building being built but appearing not to have had any work done on it for a couple of years and another building in the process of falling down. There was a concrete building behind them, though, and a wooden staircase going up to a precarious balcony, and I could hear loud music with a heavy calypso beat coming out of the upper story of the building.
I could see what kind of bar it was as soon as we entered. All men, a cloud of blue smoke, beer bottles, both empty and full littering a scattering of small tables, with captains’ chairs, sprinkled around the room. A wooden bar running along the long wall facing the entrance.
And rough. Those providing the local service were all young and slender Dominicans – quite like the ones we had picked up in less obvious bars in Samana the night before. As far as clientele, it was obvious a ship was in – but it would have seemed more logical that it was a naval vessel than a cruise ship. The men in here off the cruise ship obviously worked more in the boiler room than the dining room. They were all bulky and big and muscle bound.
It was also obviously a no-holds-barred sort of place. One of the small Dominicans was being fucked by a big black guy on top of a table over in the corner. Three other equally big guys were standing around, watching. A lighter-skinned black guy had his dick out and was working it up, no doubt planning to be next in the Dominican’s channel.
‘Ah, yes, they’re here,’ Clifton said, as he steamed right into the room and up to the bar. There were three huge Slavic looking guys there just receiving their beers.
‘Hello, you three,’ Clifton said. ‘I saw the ship was in. You arrived a half hour early.’
‘Jah, but we were an extra hour getting the platform in place and the tenders down,’ said one in a broad, jovial voice. ‘The passengers were pissy about it. We enjoyed it big.’
‘Speaking of enjoying it big, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Dale. He’s off yesterday’s ship. He’ll do you for a beer.’
‘Ahh. Really. Nice to meet you guys, but – ‘ I said, with a deep gulp, as suddenly three beer bottles were thrust at me. ‘Clifton and I – ‘ I began again, turning toward Clifton. But he was already gone. He’d drifted over to the table in the corner to watch the Dominican being fucked.
The three burly crew members from the cruise ship gathered close around me and tried out small talk in their various Slavic dialects as their beefy hands patted and prodded me.
Clifton was back at my side then.
‘You can fuck him, if you want. As long as I can watch. You Russian guys do doubles don’t you? I think I’m in the mood.’
They wanted, and although I turned to flee to the door, they were too fast for me. The Lithuanian took me right there and then. He was perched on a barstool, and, between the three of them, they had me stripped and settling down on his beefy cock, facing away from him, in no time. One of the Russians had his face in my crotch and was giving me a blow job.
Clifton sat at a nearby table, cock in hand, and switched his attention between what was going on in the corner, the second black guy now getting his strokes, and what the Lithuanian was doing to me on the bar stool.
I would have objected – if I hadn’t been enjoying it.
When the Lithuanian was finished, Clifton gestured to the two Russians, and I suddenly wasn’t too sure how much I was going to be enjoying this. One Russian perched on the stool next to the Lithuanian who had me lapped, and pulled out a hard, long, not overly fat cock. While I huffed and puffed and whimpered ineffectually, I was pulled off the Lithuanian’s cock and transferred to the Russian’s. As I was sliding down his pole, he leaned back, holding me firmly in place by the waist with his giant paws and rotating my hips up. While I was hyperventilating and complaining between gulps, the Lithuanian held one of my legs up and out while the second Russian pushed my other leg wide with his forearm on my inner thigh. His hands cupped and squeezed and spread my butt cheeks, as his cock – thicker than the first Russian’s – struggled to push into my channel on top of his mate’s.
Clifton was having a great time watching and stroking himself, and I was grunting and groaning and sure I’d be split asunder. But I wasn’t. I somehow managed, as Russian one kept his cock rock hard and stiff inside me and Russian two did the stroking with his fatter cock. They were busy exchanging kisses over my shoulder, and I might as well not have been there for anything but providing a tight channel for them to make love to each other in.
Before they were done, Clifton made a request and the two Russians changed our positions to give Clifton a closer look at the action. I was laid on my back on the table next to him and one Russian stood over my head, feeding his cock into my mouth while the other was standing between my legs and holding them spread as he fed his cock into my channel. This was certainly less strain on me.
The black guys from the corner table gangbang started to drift our way later, and I serviced them too. I have no idea how many.
* * * *
Clifton was in seventh heaven as we drove up the mountain. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had this much entertainment in months.’
‘I’m happy for you, Clifton, but I don’t think I could survive another day in your paradise here. I think I’ll book out on the first flight I can get tomorrow. And will you be coming back to New York now too? Now that it’s safe. You can have a great life there.’
‘Oh, no, dear boy. I have a great life right here. You’ve seen it. You know I have this fetish. Where else do you think I could be served as well as here? This was a banishment, yes. But it was an ideal retreat for me. A banishment. But a glorious one. Can’t you see that?’
Yes, I had to admit. I could see that. But this particular one was more glorious for Clifton and his fetish than it could be for me and my fetishes for any length of time – being well fucked – rough – and manhandled, but only periodically, not constantly.
Clifton didn’t prevent me from – almost reluctantly – sucking myself out of his tempting world to return to what commonly was thought as civilization.
But it didn’t prevent him, either, from having Luis have me for desert that evening, while he sat there attentively watching, and stroking his cock.
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