Cocky Batter

by Drake Rockford

  Adrian couldn’t look away. Instead, he felt his cock stiffen as the sight aroused blood flow to his penis.

  Adrian had never seen male-on-male sex before, not even close to it during the snatches of boys-on-girl threesomes in the porn he watched daily. The guys in those clips stayed at arm’s length from each other, one plugging the woman's mouth while the other banged her from behind. Hell, they rarely made eye contact with each other, and if they did it was only to share lecherous grins. And whenever a chick would suck off two guys at the same time they’d stand apart with her between them, not side by side with the woman on her knees before them.

  Despite himself, Adrian’s libido sparked to life. Excitement boiled in his loins as his dick struggled against his tight jeans. Try as he might, he couldn’t force his cock to simmer down, or deny that the sight greeting him turned him on. He’d gone the entire day without jerking off. Now, even the sight of two guys suck each other off was no match for the load of testosterone flowing through his penis. He should have felt utter disgust. Instead, he was turned on and felt a thrill like none he’d experienced before.

  Never in his wildest imagination had it crossed his mind that he would witness gay sex live and up close. Never had he even realized it was something he wanted to see, even if he could begrudgingly admit to wondering how Dale managed to have sex with another guy without feeling shame. Never would he admit to enjoying what he saw.

  The twink tilted his head and sighed when the mystery boy dug deep into his pants and freed his hefty balls. He squeezed and pulled lightly on the twink’s nuts. The boy muffled a moan and bucked his hips when his partner teased the tip of his cock with his tongue.

  Mesmerized, Adrian trailed his hand over his cock and mimicked the guy’s—was it Dale?—motions. He lightly caressed his own balls and then stroked his stiff cock in concert with maybe-Dale’s fingers playing up and down the twink’s long, veiny shaft while maybe-Dale nuzzled that low hanging sack and then gave it a furtive lick, as if savoring the salty remnants of sweat before he sucked first one nut and then the other into his mouth. Moments later Abercrombie took the twink (Fitch, thought Adrian) into his mouth and slurped with ravenous hunger.

  Adrian swallowed hard as he watched the mysterious head impale itself on the twink’s dick, which disappeared inch by inch into the eager mouth. Fitch himself had his eyes shut tight as he gripped the head and guided it down, down, back up and back down, farther and faster, until the guy was sputtering and swallowing and gasping all at once.

  Adrian shuddered and dropped his hand as if he’d touched live wire. He had almost come. He couldn’t do that here, now, while watching his friend blow some stranger in the bathroom stall.

  Adrian backed away quietly. Abercrombie guy had gotten up off his knees, pulled his jeans down and was turning to position himself for penetration while Fitch struggled to wrap his massive twink cock in a condom. Part of Adrian—the thick part throbbing in his pants—wanted to continue watching. Another part urged him to leave, leave now before Abercrombie turned his head and showed his face.

  Adrian didn't want to know if it was Dale on his knees. He didn't want yet one more thing to be jealous about.

  Adrian was still backing away with his eyes fixed on the stall door when someone touched him at the waist as if to prevent a collision. He jumped and spun around, his hand instinctively reaching to push whoever was behind him back a few paces. He stopped when Dale reached out and held him by the biceps as if to steady him.

  “You okay, Addy?”

  Adrian stood there, his hands now resting on Dale’s arms to form a bridge between them, his heart pumping too fast for no good reason. He glanced back at the stall, which was now quiet, save for the faint shuffle of feet and buckling of belts.

  “I thought,” began Adrian, then stopped. How could he explain he had just watched someone he thought was Dale give head and semi-jerked off to it? Or the relief spreading through his chest to realize it wasn’t him?

  “I was looking for you,” he said. “I thought you’d left.”

  Dale smiled and dropped his arms. “Nah. I wouldn’t abandon you, Addy. I stepped outside for some fresh air. The dance floor is starting to ripen.”

  Adrian forced a laugh. “That’s why I don’t dance.”

  “You will tonight,” said Dale with a wink. He grabbed Adrian’s hand and pulled. “There’s a chick who wants to meet you. She’s on the dance floor.”

  Adrian allowed himself to be pulled a few yards and then yanked his hand out of Dale’s. They were almost at the entrance. “Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

  “Nah. I saw you come in but figured you might need rescuing since you were taking so long. Come on!” he exclaimed. “She’s waiting for us.”

  Dale grabbed Adrian by the hand again. He didn’t snatch his hand away this time. Must be the liquor, he reasoned.

  Still, when the bathroom door opened and two drunk guys staggered in, Adrian gently extricated his hand from Dale’s grasp and dangled it innocently at his side.

  Chapter 8: Grab Him By The Balls

  The floor was still packed, as well as the aisles between the cramped tables. The music sounded the same to Adrian, but he could tell from the slower movements that the style had changed. There wasn’t any spinning and no wild, gyrating hips. Just couples cha-chaing back and forth for the most part, and the occasional dip. It looked like the cha-cha, anyway. Well, what Adrian imagined a cha-cha looked like.

  Dale squeezed them through the throng of dancers until they had reached their table. Pete and Rudy were there, in the seats they’d vacated. Also there sat the beautiful, mocha-skinned girl with black hair that flowed down her back. She was sipping a bright red drink, its fruity aroma wafting across the table to greet them before her sensual smile.

  “Hi boys,” she welcomed with a sultry voice.

  Dale leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Hey, beautiful. Sorry to keep you waiting. This is Adrian. Adrian, meet Stefania.” Then, turning to Adrian, he excused himself to go to the bar to bring back cocktails. He also encouraged him to keep an eye on their wayward friends.

  “Rudy. Pete,” greeted Adrian with a hint of exasperation. He offered the girl his hand. “Hi.”

  Stefania laughed. “Come here. Kiss me.” She raised her cheek to meet his lips. “It’s customary to greet with a peck on the cheek. At least where I’m from.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Colombia,” piped up Pete, with a knowing wink at Adrian. He said to Stefania, “My boy here was sizing you up a while ago. I told him you’re—”

  Adrian reached behind Pete to grab his neck. He squeezed it roughly and shook his head forcefully. “Be a gentleman, Pete.” After a grunt of concession from Pete, he let go and glanced at Rudy. “Ain’t it time for him to go home?”

  Rudy spread his hands in feigned contrition. “Believe it or not, Adrian, I’m not his keeper. He does what he wants. You know that.”

  Stefania patted Pete on the knee. “Don’t worry about this one. I’ve eaten men less cultured than him for breakfast. Sit.”

  Adrian pulled one of the extra chairs beside her and sat down. “He’s not a bad guy; just drunk.”

  “I gathered as much when he asked me if I have a dick or a pussy.” Adrian groaned inwardly. So Pete had been telling the truth. “Are you curious, too?”

  “No,” Adrian answered hastily. “He was only kidding around. Weren’t you, Pete?”

  Pete was busy craning his neck to spy on a girl a few tables over. “Huh? Oh yeah,” he agreed without even glancing at Adrian. “Catch you guys later. I see some tail with my name on it.”

  Pete stood and Rudy rose with him. “I better come along. Maybe she’ll have a friend for me.”

  Adrian nodded, his eyes conveying their gratitude to Rudy. “Good idea, Rudy. Good luck.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “We don’t need luck, Chambers. No chick can resist the combined magnetism of me and the Rudester. Even if she don’t have a friend,
she’ll happily entertain the both of us. Mark my words.”

  Adrian breathed a sigh of relief when the two parted from them. “He’s a good guy, I swear,” he said when Stefania gave him a questioning look.

  Her returning laugh was carefree. “I believe you. He’s actually quite cute. Rudy, too. But not as cute as you.”

  Adrian gulped back the nerves that rose from his belly. He couldn’t think of what to say to the complement, so he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I saw you at the bar earlier.”

  “I know. I saw you looking, so I followed your friend and asked him to invite me to your table.”

  “Damned Pete,” said Adrian in an admiring tone. “Always looking out for me. I didn’t even know he knew where I was sitting.”

  “You underestimate him because he’s loud. But don’t sell your friend short. He was a perfect gentleman with me until you showed up.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess we just naturally revert to adolescent antics when we get around each other.”

  “Boys will be boys. Right?”

  Adrian nodded, his face burning with embarrassment. “Are you here with girlfriends?”

  “Sort of. Two of my friends were with me,” explained Stefania. “But they met a couple of guys a while ago. I don’t think they’re coming back.”

  “Lucky bastards,” muttered Adrian. Then apologized. “I mean, to meet some nice girls.”

  Stefania laughed. “They’re gonna fuck all night and forget about each other in the morning.”

  If his face had been alight with embarrassment before, it was positively ablaze from her candid attitude and less than dainty speech.

  Adrian reached to pour himself a mug of beer, but the bong was empty. He wondered where Dale was with the cocktails. Maybe he was bringing a full bottle of rum to finish the night off. Adrian welcomed a few shots to dull his mind, to relax his body so he could go with the flow. If he played his cards right, he might get lucky tonight.

  Stefania grabbed Adrian’s outstretched hand and pulled him to the floor. She stood and moved closer to him and ran her hands up his biceps. He followed her gaze as it sized him up, flickering from his dark hair to his green eyes. She lingered on his abs before finally resting on the bulge of his crotch. Then a devilish smile widened her brown eyes and crept across her face. She leaned forward; she was tall enough or he so short that she didn’t need to tiptoe when she whispered in his ear, “Let’s dance.”

  Adrian shook his head. “I don’t know how to tango.”

  “It’s not tango.”

  “Or salsa,” clarified Adrian hopefully.

  “It’s merengue,” Stefania said. “And it’s easy. Come on.”

  Stefania's smile squashed Adrian's objections. For the second time that night, he allowed someone to lead him by the hand out of his comfort zone. He stood as rigid as if he were on the diamond while this beautiful girl maneuvered his body with the expert hand of a puppet master manipulating his strings.

  She stood in front of him and held his hands. “Relax your hips,” she cooed. “Move your feet forward a tiny bit, one after the other. Like a tiny bounce. Here, like this. Count with me: one, two, three—eight times—four . . .”

  “. . . five, six, seven, eight,” Adrian finished with her.

  “See!” She giggled triumphantly. “Facil!”

  “What?”

  “Facil. It’s easy.” She inched forward and backward in rhythmic half-steps, somehow both controlling the pace and allowing him to lead. “You’re a natural!”

  Adrian beamed. “Really?”

  “No!” She giggled again. “But you’re really sexy.”

  “Ahh. Okay.”

  Stefania frowned. “What about me?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” Adrian was staring down at his feet, counting the paces as they moved to and fro. One, two, three, four. Cha-cha, cha-cha. “I’m trying to get this right.”

  “You know what? Let’s go someplace I can teach you in private,” she said with that naughty smile dancing in her eyes again.

  “Where?” Adrian asked.

  “Your place.”

  Adrian chuckled. “Don’t think we’ll get much dancing done there.”

  “We will if we’re dancing between the sheets.” She nodded toward the dance floor, where Dale, apparently having shirked his self-assigned duty, was dancing like a true natural. “Your roommate can join us.”

  “He’s not my room—” Adrian began, but realized that was the least of the problem. He concluded, “He’s gay.”

  Stefania grabbed his crotch and tugged on his semi-turgid dick. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? I have someone for your friend.”

  “You have a gay friend?” Adrian asked dubiously, as if only he were allowed such a distinction.

  “Not exactly. He’s whatever I want him to be. Tonight, he’s gay.”

  “That’s some friend,” chortled Adrian.

  “He’s my boyfriend.”

  He searched her face for a crack of a smile, but it was impassive. She was serious.

  “I don’t have an apartment,” he explained. “It’s a studio. One big open room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. No privacy. We’d all be on top of each other.”

  “That’s the idea,” she murmured. She tugged again on his penis, roughly. With her free hand, she reached up and pulled his face to hers, then kissed him hard, as if branding him so all others knew he was taken, off-limits. “Fuck me. While my boyfriend watches.”

  Despite himself, Adrian felt the girth of his cock swell and harden in her hand. She smiled and patted it as if to say, Good boy.

  “Sounds good,” he managed to croak out.

  “Bueno. Entonces, listo?”

  “What? I don’t know French.”

  “Spanish,” corrected Stefania. “I said, ‘Good. Are you ready?’” She nodded at two approaching figures that were partially obscured by the dancing couples. “Here comes my boyfriend and your friend.”

  Adrian’s jaw dropped. Pushing through the crowd was Dale. And right behind him trailed the twink from the bathroom stall: Fitch.

  “Hey, Addy,” said Dale when he reached them. “You up for a private party?” He glanced from Adrian to Stefania and cocked his head to indicate Fitch next to him. “That little adventure I mentioned earlier?”

  “Dale—”

  “Addy—”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  Adrian inhaled deeply. He had to be calm, take control of the situation. He realized Dale had planned on this, or something similar, by bringing him to this den of sexual depravity. He’d expect Adrian to balk, and he’d needle him about his reticence the same way he needled him on the field, making snide comments dripping with innuendo and half-truths. It was another game to Dale, one he thought he’d easily win.

  Adrian decided to wipe that smug look off Dale’s overconfident mug.

  “I’m down for a little four play. On one condition.” He turned to Stefania and asked, “You sure you and Fitch want to do this?”

  “Who?”

  “Boy toy, here,” he replied without bothering to hide the sneer. “You guys think you can handle both of us?”

  Stefania snorted. “Of course.”

  Adrian poked Dale in the chest. “Make this even more interesting and I’m in.”

  Dale grinned. “Another wager?”

  “You bet. A test of stamina. Whoever busts first, loses.”

  Dale laughed. “You realize gays invented edging, right?”

  “Then put your money where his cock is gonna be. Five hundred.”

  Stefania whistled and nudged Fitch. “Baby, I think we hit the jackpot. Yummy!”

  “Okay,” agreed Dale. “But not money; that’s cliché.”

  Adrian opened his mouth to balk. He knew Dale was purposely minimizing Adrian’s risks, should he lose. It annoyed him, being coddled in front of this hot chick. But then Dale finished with an even more interesting wage
r.

  “Remember that little chat about glory holes? Let’s test the theory. We wear blindfolds and get sucked off by both Stefania and—” Dale glanced to the guy.

  He answered dutifully, “Fitch.”

  “Fitch,” echoed Dale. “Then we guess which one sucked us off first. No touching, no cheating for clues. Whoever loses has to get sucked off by the opposite gender.”

  “Deal!”

  Adrian and Dale thrust their hands forward, but Stefania intervened by stepping between. “Did you boys forget about us? What’s in it for us besides a mouth full of cock?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” began Dale, but again, Stefania interrupted.

  “No. I’ll tell you!” She grabbed Fitch’s hand and pulled him close. “Who do you like, baby?”

  “This one,” said Fitch, pointing at Dale. “But whoever you decide is good for me.”

  Stefania nodded and pushed Fitch back into imaginary shadows. “Then this is how it goes, boys. If Dale loses your bet he has to fuck—what did he call you?”

  “Fitch,” he answered dutifully and without a trace of annoyance.

  “Fitch,” repeated Stefania. “And if you lose, Adrian, you have to fuck me.”

  Adrian thrust his hand forward. “Dea—”

  “Not so fast. “ Fitch stepped up. “Whichever one of you loses gets fucked by me, too. While my mistress watches. Agreed?”

  Stefania cooed and rubbed her hands giddily. “Oooh, baby, I love you. So diabolical!”

  Dale raised his hand to shake on it. Adrian slapped it down. “Wait. Who’s getting fucked now?”

  Dale attempted to explain. “If I lose—”

  “Again.”

  “—yeah, again. If I lose, I fuck Fitch, Fitch fucks me, and you fuck Stefania.”

  “And if you win?” asked Fitch.

  “Adrian here fucks you and you fuck him. No Stefania.”

  “Fuck no,” blurted Adrian. He jabbed his finger at Fitch. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with this skinny twink that seemed more girl than boy. “I’m not getting fucked by this dude.”