We were going to be here for at least three more days before taking a cruise ship up the East side of Spain through the Mediterranean Sea to the island of Ibiza. From there, we’d take a boat over to the coast of Valencia where we planned to eventually catch a train into Madrid and then fly back home. But that was three weeks away.
When my friend invited me along for this trip, I was overjoyed at the thought of traveling with him and the other gorgeous team members, all of whom claimed to be heterosexual except for my friend and me. Who wouldn’t want to spend six days in Morocco laying on the beach all day watching surfers from all over the world? But apparently, friends and family of all the other teams had the same idea.
The beach was a parade of onlookers gathered under tents and umbrellas to cheer for their country’s team. Children of all races chased each other down the beach. Tangiers had become a melting pot of surfing fans from every continent. I kept my distance from the tent parties and charades, spending all day sunning and reading in a deck chair outside the beach house. Like I said, by day three, I was bored.
“You should walk up and down the beach and try to mingle a little. There are so many hot guys here,” my friend said to me, worried that I wasn’t having any fun.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Some of the other teams that are done competing have organized some buses to go to Casablanca tomorrow. You should go too.”
That sounded like a great idea, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by not staying here to watch him surf. I was hesitant, and tried not to look interested.
“Don’t you want me to stay here and cheer for you guys,” I asked.
“This trip isn’t just about me and the team. You should at least have some fun until time to get on the cruise ship,” he said.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me going?”
“I’ll sign you up myself. A lot of the Australian and New Zealand team members are going, and almost all of those guys are gay.”
“Are they hot,” I asked curiously.
“Are you joking? You might end up wanting to skip the cruise!”
“I doubt that,” I said.
“Trust me. These guys are hunks, and extremely nice. You are going to have lots of fun.”
“A gay caravan of me and hot Aussie surfers going to Casablanca, it definitely sounds appealing!”
There were two small buses outside the beach houses the next morning. I packed a small overnight bag and said good-bye to my friend.
“Promise me you’ll have some fun,” he said patting me on the back as the driver took my bag from me and put it in the undertow.
“I’ll definitely try. If not, at least the cruise is only two days away, right?” I chimed with excitement.
Just then four guys passed by us to board the bus. Each one was wearing tight shorts and even tighter tank tops tugging from the strain of their massive chests and muscular arms. It left little to the imagination, and both of us couldn’t help but stare. With their dark tans and sun bleached hair, each one of them looked like they had stepped right off the pages of an International Male catalog.
“G’day mate,” the last one said to me as he passed by, flashing his pearly white smile at me with a wink and a nod.
“Damn,” my friend said, “maybe we will skip the cruise!”
“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” I said with a laugh, jumping on the bus.
The buses were taking us to Casablanca for a night of clubbing. There was plenty to enjoy in Morocco, but we all agreed it was just too crowded with the tourists from the surfing expedition. Casablanca was close enough to be able to escape all of that for those of us who wanted a change in scenery. There were several of us on the buses who were also going on the cruise, including a few cruise ship employees.
Before we had even made it to Casablanca, I had met almost everyone on my bus, including the four hot Aussie guys who had invited me to sit with them. They were Sven, Larz, Pence, and Jherrit. Pence and Jherrit were boyfriends. I thought Sven and Larz might be a couple too but quickly found out they weren’t. Both of them were doing quite a bit of flirting with me during the whole bus trip.
I was particularly attracted to Sven, who was close to my age. He had a cute baby face with dimples, a cleft chin, and scorching blue eyes. With his blond hair and smooth skin, he reminded me of a Ken doll or a Greek statue. Larz was older with a buzzed head and goatee, but just as handsome. I had never had two hot buff guys coming onto me at the same time. I loved the attention, but I was still a little coy at their advances and tried to play hard to get. I had never met anyone from Australia before, and I couldn’t believe how direct they were with me.
“Do you like to suck cock,” Larz asked.
“Yeah. Don’t you?”
“Of course!”
“I bet you are really good at it,” Sven said to me, “aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I guess so,” I said turning red in the face.
“You know he is,” Larz said to Sven.
“I’d like to find out,” Sven replied as if I wasn’t even sitting there next to him.
I blushed as they both burst into a laugh. I knew now that they were intentionally teasing me, but I had a feeling they were also being serious. I decided to play along.
“So, Sven, are you a top or a bottom,” I asked with a straight face, overcoming my shy demeanor.
“That depends. What are you?”
“I asked you first.”
“Can’t you tell,” Larz cackled, “Sven’s a big bottom.”
“Oh yeah? Who fucked who the last time,” Sven asked Larz, raising his eyebrows.
“You weren’t there,” Larz laughed.
I laughed too. Sven got quiet.
“So, which is it, Sven? Top or bottom,” I asked again to break his silence.
“Want to find out?” He asked seriously.
“Sure.”
“Stay with us tonight at the hotel. We’ll share a room.”
“Sure, if that is okay with Larz?”
“You bet,” Larz replied.
Outside the hotel in Casablanca, I managed to get away from Larz and Sven long enough to call my friend on his cell to tell him what had happened on the bus.
“I’m so jealous. Those guys are so hot,” he said.
“I know. And so damn big too. If their cocks are as big as the rest of their muscles, I’m in trouble.”
“You can handle them.”
“You may have to carry me onto the cruise ship.”
“Just be careful,” he said.
“Oh, you know I will.”
“No, I mean I’ve heard some things about that Aussie team.”
“Oh really? Like what,” I asked.
“Nothing serious. They definitely know how to party. But they have a tendency to wash their hands of guys once they’ve had their way.”
“I just want to have some fun too. I’m not expecting to get their phone number,” I said.
“Just don’t be shocked if they don’t even speak to you once you get back to Morocco, or even so much as look at you on the cruise ship.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve heard,” my friend said.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said.
“Go for it, dude. Just have fun.”
Sven and Larz had already gone up to the room. I checked in and took the elevator up. I knocked on the door as I was opening it. Larz was in the shower. I could see his outline behind the shower curtain because he had left the bathroom door open. His muscular outline was all curves. I couldn’t help but stop in front of the open door and stare for a minute. I had not even noticed Sven lying naked on the bed.
“You like what you see,” Sven asked, catching my attention.
I turned to look at him on the bed.
“Definitely,” I replied, my eyes pouring over his naked body.
I dropped my bag and peeled off my shirt, rushing over to the bed to dr
op between Sven’s legs. He had already been rubbing his cock, so it was rock hard and at least seven or eight inches cut. I completely engulfed it to the point that his trimmed blond pubes tickled my face. Sven massaged my shoulders and back with his large hands then gripped the back of my head to force me down on his cock. I moaned softly, letting him feed it to me.
“No fair. You guys started without me,” I heard Larz say from behind me as he was stepping out of the shower and toweling off.
Sven leaned back with his face to the ceiling and his eyes closed, savoring my cock sucking skills. I continued to deep throat him as I felt Larz crawl across the bed and begin to undo my belt. I lifted each leg for him to free me from my pants. He massaged my calves with his warm wet hands, making his way up to my own throbbing cock. I looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of his tanned gorgeous body. He had a nice hairy chest that was neatly trimmed, defining his huge pecs and six-pack abs. He also had a fat uncut cock with a giant mushroom head that was just starting to get hard. I reached to stroke it, making it grow harder.
Larz continued to stroke my cock and fondle my balls with one hand while he played with my ass with the other. Spreading my ass apart, he massaged my hole with his fingers. I suddenly felt his hot breath on my backside as he gently bit me and then ran his tongue across my ass. His fingers were soon replaced with his tongue as he began to rim me, burying his tongue deep inside me. I sucked Sven even harder. He soon decided it was time to trade places with Larz. They rolled me over onto my back and turned me around. Larz straddled my face and dropped his large ball sack into my mouth. I lapped and sucked his balls willingly.
Sven had raised my legs over his shoulders and knelt between my legs to suck me. He furiously sucked my cock, balls, and my taint while inserting two fingers into my anus, which was still wet and lubed with Larz’s spit. He worked my tight hole with his fingers gently teasing the muscles to loosen and allow him deeper inside me. With no room to catch my breath between these two men, I was in heaven.
Larz turned around to face me and to straddle my chest with his massive legs. I felt like a pubescent high school boy on the wrestling team pinned beneath him. He swatted his cock across my chin, teasing me with it before forcing it down my throat. He fucked my face, grasping the back of my head to pull me up off the bed and to his groin. I felt Sven between my legs, only now he was raising them up into the air and over his shoulders to lift my hole up to his cock. Still loose from his fingers and wet with spit, Sven buried himself deep into my gut all the way to the root of his dick. I felt my insides fill up with his massive rod, both with a bit of pain and with ecstasy. With a mouthful of cock, I was unable to react.
Both Larz and Sven took turns pumping my mouth and my hole for at least the next hour before spraying my face and chest with their cum. All three of us cleaned up in the shower together. A heavy make out session pursued with me sandwiched between them. We then dressed and went out to cruise the streets and bars of Casablanca. Even at the clubs, I was given their complete attention. They were almost like bodyguards. On the dance floor they kept me between them and rubbed their bodies against me. Other boys were in awe of our threeway kissing. They couldn’t take their eyes off of us. I ate up the attention of the room and wished something like this would happen to me back home in the states. But it never would. American men were so stuck up.
Back in the hotel room in the early hours of the morning, all three of us were drunk and worked up from our night of erotic dancing. I guess I couldn’t handle my alcohol as well as they could because I was stumbling and trying to make my way to the bed. Larz held me up while Sven undressed me.
“You aren’t ready for bed, are you mate?” Sven asked, looking up at me as he knelt before me pulling my shoes off.
“No, not at all,” I slurred.
“Good! Because we aren’t either,” Larz said with a laugh.
Larz sat me down so that they could undress. I collapsed back onto the bed in an attempt to pass out, but they both lifted me back up and walked me to the shower with them. My buzz faded as the hot water sprayed across my face and chest. Larz stood behind me massaging my back and shoulders, while Sven sucked my nipples. My penis slowly grew to attention. I soon snapped out of my hazy stupor. Sven dropped between my legs to suck my hard rod. Larz stayed behind me as support, unsure if I could stand on my own. He teasingly bit and sucked at my neck and shoulders, and eventually slid his throbbing cock into my wet warm asshole to fuck me nice and slow.
In the morning, I awoke to find I had the room to myself. Larz and Sven had already packed and left. I got dressed and packed my own things. I found a plastic CD case on the nightstand with my name scratched across it in red ink. There was a note under it that read: THANKS FOR A WONDERFUL NIGHT IN CASABLANCA, SVEN AND LARZ. I was shocked to find that they were not on the bus going back to Morocco, but their friends, Pence and Jherrit, were. They told me that Sven and Larz had rented a convertible to drive themselves back along the coast. I was kind of disappointed that they had not asked me to ride with them. I guess my friend had been right about Aussie guys being done with you after all. I got out my CD walkman and decided to listen to the disc they had left for me.
“What’s that?” Pence asked.
“Did Sven and Larz give that to you?” Jherrit asked.
“Yeah, they left it in the room this morning with a note. Why?”
They looked at each other and I could tell they were trying not to laugh at me.
“No worries mate. Enjoy the music,” Pence said.
The music on the CD wasn’t too bad. It was a mix of familiar dance music that I had heard in some of the clubs back in America. I assumed they played this music in Australia too, or maybe it was a mix tape of Larz and Sven’s favorite dance tracks. However, Pence and Jherrit’s reaction concerned me and I decided to find Sven or Larz back in Morocco to ask them about it.
The bus arrived and my friend was standing there to greet me. The American surfing team had taken second place in the competition. He was anxious to hear about my day trip, so I told him all about it while we packed up the beach house to prepare to board the cruise the next morning. I sat on the bed telling him all about my hot sessions with the Australians while he folded and packed his clothes. I noticed dance music playing softly in the background; it sounded like my CD. I walked over to the stereo to check the empty case that was lying on top. It was a case just like the one Sven and Larz had given me, but instead of my name across the front, there was my friend’s name instead.
“Where did you get this?” I asked my friend, holding up the empty case for him to see.
“Some guy gave it to me. It’s a mix of American dance music. I like it.”
“Was he on the Australian team as well?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Maybe,” my friend giggled, “How do you know all this?”
I walked over to my bag and took out my CD and showed it to him. I told him how it had been left for me in the hotel room that morning. We laughed and dismissed it as an odd coincidence, that is, until we boarded the cruise ship. Four other members of the American surf team had the exact same CD. We were shocked because we didn’t even know some of them were gay. I tried to track down Sven or Larz to ask them about it, but the ship was too crowded with everyone boarding. I knew I’d eventually run into them on the ship before we reached Ibiza.
My friend and I danced the night away with his team members at the club inside the cruise ship. In the early morning, I excused myself to step out onto the deck to get some fresh air. A cruise ship employee was standing there smoking a cigarette while looking out over the water. I walked up to the rail a few feet away from him.
“Hey there, I know you,” he said to me.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I went on the daytrip to Casablanca. I remember seeing you with Sven that night at the club.”
“You know Sven and Larz?”
�
�I wish I didn’t! Those assholes,” he said stamping his foot and crossing his arms like a pouty queen.
I didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed. He puffed on his cigarette some more and then turned back to me.
“Did you get tagged too?” He asked me.
“Tagged? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The CD. Did Sven give you a CD?”
“Yeah, actually he did. I wasn’t sure what it meant.”
“Funny,” he said, “I wouldn’t picture you being that way.”
“What way? What do you mean? Does the CD mean something?”
“It means you were a lousy fuck,” he said bluntly.
“Lousy?”
“Yeah, it’s a game the Aussie surfers like to play. If they lose the tournament, they try to sleep with as many guys from the others teams as possible, not that they wouldn’t do that anyway. But instead, if they don’t like your performance, they give you that stupid CD.”
“But it’s actually a good CD,” I said.
“You must be American,” he said rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, I am. What’s wrong with that?”
“Only an American would like that crappy trance music they play in your clubs. Everyone over here hates that shit.”
“I get it. So, if you are bad in bed they tag you with a CD full of bad music so the others will know not to sleep with you?”
“Yep. They call it their Token of Morocco,” he said holding his fingers up to make quotation marks in the air.
Bennington's Place Page 8
