Stag Party

By Jamie Anderson (Of Blessed Memory)

Published on Jun 16, 1999

Gay

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The boring disclaimer, the sex mad may skip this bit.

If you do not like sex scenes between males you should not read any further, unless you of course suffer from bulimia nervosa, if you do this should really get you going.

If you live in an area where reading this is illegal, then move out before you read on.

If you are to young to read this legally in your neighbourhood, do try not to get caught. Be careful we adults are not as stupid as we often appear.

The entire contents of this tale are fiction that includes; names, places, companies and restaurants. So please don't Email me asking how to get there or meet the people.

That said, those of you who are left, may read on.

I like Fridays. To be more precise, I like Fridays after 5pm. Best of all, I like Fridays, after 5pm, when it is my weekend off. So there was I, a happy camper, at 6pm on the Friday evening that started my first free weekend in ages. I was getting dressed to go out on the town to see what I could pick up and bed for the night. I was stark naked in front of the mirror admiring myself, as well I might. I put a lot of work into keeping myself in shape. It is the reason that I'm sometimes taken for a professional sportsman, not a soldering iron jockey. I'm just under six feet, well muscled, without the bloated appearance of a weightlifter. Black hair, on my chest the hair runs right down passed my navel and into my bush. I'm well enough hung to never have had complaints, either of being too big or too small and, I have buns of steel, (not my description, by the way.) I was pleased with the sight, then the phone rang! There is an answering machine, it cost me a packet, it is there to take those sort of calls, as was not on standby. But, like a fool, I picked up the handset. This was a big mistake. "Ah, Jack! Thank God I caught you at home. I tried your pager, but it seems to be switched off," a voice said in my ear. It was the voice of Chas, my boss. You bet my pager was switched off, I hate the bloody thing with a passion and it is only on when I'm on duty. "It's my weekend off Chas!" I said, getting my oar in before he could start. "I know, but we are flat on our ass here and I need you back in," he said, and he did sound desperate. "Tell me the details." I said, locking the handset against my ear with my shoulder as I got into my underpants. He began telling me everything he knew about the problem. Oh God, it was the site at Eddingtons. They have a double CPU system there, but the operating system was not originally written as multiple re-entrant code, it was adapted. A recipe for disaster if ever I saw one. When we first got the sodding machine it had more bugs in it than the insect house at the London Zoo. We finally got it working, but the slightest thing and it keels over. That system was like a male erection; if you've got it up, and you want to keep it up, then don't fuck with it. I would bet a penny to a pound some bastard had been fucking with it. "They haven't coupled the input to the UPS into its own outlet again, have they?" I asked, hopefully. "You are never going to let them live that one down, are you?" replied Chas. "OK Chas, I'm on my way back in," I said in a resigned tone. In the hope of a quick fix I dressed up for going out on the town. I was now in a bad temper so I dressed like rough trade. This tends to scare off all but the suicidal, but I was beyond caring. Then I went out, hailed a taxi and headed into town. When I got there I found that there really was a problem. The site engineer had checked the hardware, so I called all the customer's people together and asked what changes they had made since the last reboot. Amazingly enough no changes had been made! The system had been running perfectly for a week or so, the engineer had taken it down for maintenance, no problems had been found, but he could not reboot the operating system. Some asshole was lying to me! The stink of "finger trouble" hung over the whole affair. I strongly suspected the chief of operations. He is related to one of the managers, and this is his sole qualification for the job. About 9pm I discoved the root of the problem. Yup old shit head had updated a command file in the magnetic tape subsystem. Good now I have him by the balls! But Chas would not let me at him and I'm getting madder by the minute. But he's right, you mustn't kill your customers, think of the paperwork it will cause. "Go out on the town. Have a meal, put it on your expenses," he said. I sizzled. "Take your girl - er sorry - a friend too if you like," said he, correcting himself just a little too late. I stomped out and left him to clear up the mess. So it was a bit before 10pm when I left the site, my temper was murderous, I had not eaten since lunch and my evening was on the verge of ruin. First thing that I needed was food. I can't drink much on an empty stomach. So off I went to Busbie's. One of those chic little restaurants that is; off the beaten path, gay and very expensive. The last bit was pure revenge since Chas was footing the bill. Tony met me as I entered. Tony is the head waiter, cute body, he is also a screaming queen. He's a nice guy, he makes no effort to hid the fact he fancies me, but he is on a loser there. When I want to go to bed with a girl, I do just that. I will not go to bed with some ghastly parody of a girl. Anyway I much prefer to go to bed with a boy, one that looks and acts like a male. I asked for a table for one, but got a table for two. I removed his hand from my butt, ordered a drink and accepted the menu. I decided on my meal, pate to start with. Mainly because it is quick to serve as I'll be eating the fancy little cork coasters if I don't get some food soon. I order a T-bone steak to follow and a half bottle of wine that costs more than the rest of the meal. Chas will think twice about calling me out on my free weekend in future. Then, for the first time since entering, looked round. The usual sort of crowd was there. Mostly gay, a few straight couples rubbernecking, and one table with about eight young men around it. They were obviously enjoying themselves as they were making a bit of noise. They were not gay, and not rubbernecking. When Tony returned with the pate and my drink I inquired what they were up to. "Oh, it's a stag party, love. The fatter of the two blond ones is getting married in the morning. Why they chose HERE to kick off his stag night I do not know. But that's straights for you," he said, and swished away. Now to tell the truth I was more interested in filling my stomach than I was in watching a table of young drunks. So it was a bit of a surprise when I realised one was standing in front of me. He was swaying slightly and looked as if he had had quite enough to drink. "Hi!" he said, by way of introduction. "Hi," I replied, keeping my voice neutral. "I say, can you do us a favour?" he said, sounding like an upper class twit who was slumming it. "That all depends on what the favour is," I said. This is my automatic response when asked for favours. "Our friend, Ozzy," he said nodding in the general direction of his table, "is getting married tomorrow." "Really?" I said, feigning surprise. "Yes, this is his stag night. But he says that he wants to have his last chance to er, um, do it with a boy..." he sort of dribbled off at the end. "So?" I asked, my bad mood was coming back. "Well, you're gay, aren't you?" he asked. For a brief moment his life was on the line. However I looked over at his table, just to make sure he really was pissing me about, before I let him have it, and I made direct eye contact with Ozzy. There was such a look of pleading in his eyes, that it stayed my hand. "OK, bring him over here and the rest of you can fuck off," I said, and proceeded to eat my meal ignoring the bugger. Now weird things happen to lads on their stag nights. Some end up naked and miles from home. Others end up handcuffed to lampposts. This one looked like he was going to wake up in my bed. What the Hell, stranger things have happened at sea and I've had worse looking lads for a one night stand. About 15 minutes later a rather sorry looking figure came over to my table and just stood there. "Hi Ozzy," I said, cheerfully, well there was no point on taking my temper out on him. "Take a seat," I added. He sat heavily on the spare seat and began to fidget. "Look, I think that I'd better just leave. If I go now I could catch them up," he said, nervously. As Tony had not bothered to clear the second place setting I filled the wine glass and pushed it in his direction. "Have a drink. My name is Jack," I said, still stuffing steak into my mouth. Well, it was over 10 hours since I had had lunch. He sat nursing his drink looking very sorry for himself. "Wanna talk about it?" He sort of shuddered, by way of a reply. "I've tried girls, out of curiosity, so I can't see why you shouldn't try another guy," I said, in an effort to break the ice. He looked up at me with the eyes of a dog that is expecting to be kicked. About here I took the time to I really look him over. He was blond, not really fat, more, well covered. I don't really like the skinny ones. About five foot eight. Not really a trim waist. I suspect that his face would be nice, if he wasn't looking so miserable. Yup, he'd do for the night. To say the rest of the conversation at table was awkward would be a gross understatement. I could have killed Tony for his smart remarks as we left, he almost reduced Ozzy to tears. Hell I was beginning to feel sorry for the poor bugger. Once outside I hailed a cab and took him home. He held my hand all the way back to my place. I reckon he was shit scared. As I let us into my flat I glanced at him, he looked terrible. "Are you feeling all right?" I asked. I got my answer when he grabbed me and hugged me tight. Shit! He was crying on my shoulder. Damn! I wanted someone to fuck, not to wet nurse. But I found myself comforting him, I'm not really the heartless bastard that I pretend to be, and slowly he got control of himself. When he was ready I led him over to the settee and sat him down. He had had enough to drink so I made a pot of coffee. We sat in silence drinking. "Do you want me to take you home?" He shook his head. "Wanna to go to bed with me?" There was a long pause while he studied the pattern on my carpet, then very slowly and deliberately, he nodded. "OK," I said, "but we'll play it gently, and at your pace. If you are not happy about anything, you only have to say so and we stop." This time he nodded directly. "First, I need a shower. Care to join me?" I asked, as I stood up. Mechanically he put down his cup, stood and I led the way to the bathroom. I watched him as I stripped. Most gay guys, and a lot of straight ones, get a kick out of watching other guys undress, Ozzy never gave me as much as a glance, he just stripped. Weird! Naked he was much better than I had expected. He had a really nice body on him. Not muscular, more cuddly. Unlike me, not much in the way of body hair, but a neat blond bush above a cock, that in itself was nothing to be ashamed of. As he turned to place his clothes on the chair I got my first look at his buns. Yup that was his best side. Two plump, but firm looking buns. The type that make butt fucking a positive pleasure. Tonight might be fun after all. Now I like starting out with a shower. Apart from anything else, it ensures that you are both clean. It is also a nice place to get used the other guy's body. Ozzy had a nice soft body, I discovered as I washed him down. He made no comment when I washed between his buns, or when I washed his tackle. However he was very slow at getting an erection. Then I noticed he was shivering, it must have been fear as the water was warm enough. "Now it is your turn," I said, handing him the soap. He was very hesitant about touching me at first, but once he started he was OK. By the time he got round to washing my naughty bits, he was getting a stiffy. I released my control on my cock and let it get hard. OK, I know this is difficult to do, but if you are a gay guy you are often in a situation where your cock wants to get stiff, but it might be fatal if it did. As I do a lot of sports, with a lot of locker rooms, and a lot of potential disasters if I get hard, I learned long ago how to control it. When he had finished washing me I pulled him into my arms and held him tight. He stopped shivering so I assumed that I had made a good move. Just to see if I was on a roll, I kissed him. I was half expecting the evening to end about one second after I put my lips on his. But the opposite happened. Not only did he accept the kiss, his lips parted and I slid my tongue between them. As I explored the inside of his mouth he was wriggling about in my arms pushing himself against me. I took this as a sign of encouragement and sucked all the air out of his lungs. I then breathed out through my nose, breathed back in again, and refilled his lungs. He just about sucked the tongue out of my mouth. I managed to pry myself lose from him, long enough to get us both out of the shower and dried. Then he started necking with me again. Fortunately I'm bigger than him and quite strong, so I was able to lift him off his feet and carry him, still snogging, to the bedroom. Once there, we more or less fell onto the bed, naturally I was on top, well, I didn't want him getting any ideas about fucking me. Oh, I do turn over, but with a butt like he had, no way was I going to miss fucking it! He broke the kiss long enough to say, "Do it again!" Obligingly I repeated the sucking the air out of his lungs and refilling them. Under me he groaned. After a short interval I did it again and got the same response. While all this was happening my hands were investigating his body. He was definitely much better than he had looked in the restaurant. I broke the kiss and using my tongue and lips I began my slow journey down his body. His neck was quite responsive. He went a bit wild when I got to his tits. I know it is bizarre for a gay guy to be into tits, but I am. What is also kinda odd, is the number of guys who are turned on by having their nipples played with, and Ozzy was one. Now I had him on cloud 9. Since he was responding so well, I gave them extra attention. Then it was onwards and downwards, next stop his navel. Not a hairy one, but still attractive. However it was no great turn-on so I made my way down towards his groin. Here, I was just passing through, so I only licked his cock and balls, but didn't take him into my mouth. The inside of his thighs proved to be an interesting place. I discovered that running my tongue, from just above the knee up the inside to where his balls hung, drove him up to about cruising altitude for a Jumbo Jet. By the time I got to his feet he was out of this world. Great, because I didn't want him to be thinking too clearly when it came to the crunch. Sucking his toes kept him off planet and licking the soles of his feet just about put him into geo-stationary orbit. Now to see if I could get him to leave the solar system! I got him to roll over while I was still doing the soles of his feet. Then my tongue was running up the back of his leg to behind the knee. Always a touchy spot. Onwards up the back of the thigh and on to the base of his buns. There is a nice little pair of hot spots just at the point where the thighs change over to being bum. I exploited them ruthlessly. He was whimpering so I took the time to gently but firmly suck his on left bun, slightly off centre towards the middle. I can leave a hickey and my victim never notices. I repeated the process on his other bun. Yup the hickey fairy had struck again! But he was in danger of coming down so it was back to work. Gently I spread his buns and, before he could gather his wits my face was between them. Now Ozzy was not the first straight guy that I have bedded. Maybe it is because I look straight myself that I get landed with all the ones that; "want to find out what it is like." Every one of them up until now has flipped out when I rimmed them. OK, so I held them down until they gave in, but Ozzy didn't fight at all. He revelled in it pushing his butt backward into my face. Great, he liked it, so I slid my tongue through his ring. "Oh God!" he exclaimed. Then I wriggled my tongue. There is a certain point in a sexual encounter and once you pass it, you have won. He was mine! "AHHHHHHH!" When my tongue was tired, his ring was lubed enough for me to get a finger in. He offered no protest and, as I could reach the bedside cabinet, I grabbed the KY to assist, and soon there were two fingers in him. I like fingering guys. Sitting there, between their legs with your fingers inside them. With the slightest movement you can turn them on, and while you are doing it you know that you're getting them ready to take your cock. I kept it at two for a while and then went for three. From previous experience if I can get three fingers through a guy's ring, my cock can follow. OK, it was make or break time. I slid my fingers out, a ploy that left him feeling empty back there. This made him groan sort of desperately. "You like having me in there?" I asked. He nodded. "How about me sliding my cock in there and fucking you properly?" "Will it hurt?" "Not if we play our cards right," I said as I surreptitiously used the KY to grease myself up. "OK," he whispered. "If it hurts you must tell me and I'll stop. This is supposed to be fun for both of us," I said, positioning myself between his legs. He gasped slightly as the head slid into him, so I paused. Then to my surprise he pushed back! I had never had this happen with a virgin before. So I just provided him with a firm base and let him impale himself at his leisure. He spent about two minutes working his buns back until my bush was pressed firmly up against them. For me it was a very happy two minutes, as I felt my dick slide slowly into the warm softness that was Ozzy. "How does it feel?" I asked. "Great!" "And when I do this?" I asked, slowly pulling right back then moving in again. "Oh God!" So it was with slow long strokes that the fuck began. Gradually, as his ass got used to the intrusion, I began to speed up. Oh, it felt great to have a tight ring running up and down the length of my weapon. Without realising it I started to use more powerful strokes. Actually I only became aware of my actions when he started chanting "YES!" in time with the strokes. Now when that happens I usually reckon that they are enjoying it so, off came the brakes and I really laid into him. After that all I can remember is gripping him tightly, as I shot my load as far inside him as I could get it. It had been about a week since I last had sex, so he got a good load. When I got back to ground zero, I was still on top of him, and the sweat was pouring off me. I slowly withdrew, despite his protests, rolled off him and onto my back. From somewhere I got the strength to pull him on top of me and we began kissing again. When we came up for air I said, "Did you like it?" He nodded and went back to kissing me. By now he had dared to put his tongue through my lips so we were doing proper 'spit swappers'. After about half an hour my strength returned and I pulled him up until he was straddling my chest. His raging hard-on was waving in front of my face, so I ate it. With his dick firmly in my mouth I put my middle finger through his ring and located his prostate. Bingo! His hips started thrusting and I knew he was on his way to paradise. He tried to stop himself coming in my mouth, but I wouldn't let him. He was so close to the edge anyway, I doubt if he could have got it out in time. I sucked him dry as I enjoyed his taste. Then let him collapse on top of me again. As he lay there I gradually realised that he was softly sobbing. Eventually the sobbing became uncontrollable. I hugged him and tried to work out what I had done to cause it. (This is a quite a natural reaction, if you have been brought up a Catholic.) Now until this point, he had hardly strung a couple of words together, so I foolishly thought it safe to ask him what was wrong. "I'm getting married tomorrow." "So? I won't tell, if you don't." "But I don't want to get married." "Ah, then don't." "But I HAVE to get married." "You've knocked her up?" He nodded then buried his head in my neck. "Was it better than tonight?" Oops, wrong question. The crying started all over again. "I can't remember," he finally sobbed. "Wanna tell me all about it?" "I got drunk - stopped over at her place - woke up next morning in bed with her - both naked - she said that I had been quite good, considering - then after a week she told me she was late and we would have to get married!" This last bit came out in a rush just before the sobbing overtook him again. "What sort of life would you have with her?" "Not too bad. She is very organised. She's arranged the wedding. She's even has found a nice little one bedroom flat for us." "Let me see if I have got this straight; you were drunk, so drunk that you can't remember your first fuck?" He nodded. "Now that you have had your second fuck, do you think that you will remember it tomorrow?" "God, yes!" "One week later, she missed her period?" He nodded. "Did she go on and on about feeling sick in the morning?" "No." "Is she looking for a husband?" "Well, she is a bit older than me..." "So we have a woman; who is looking for a husband, you can't remember fucking her, you only have her word on that, she says you knocked her up. By the way, did she show you the results of a pregnancy test?" "No. I don't think she had one." "Females are normally fertile mid-cycle, yet she missed her period, one week later?" He nodded. "Doesn't that strike you as odd that she is getting a one bedroom flat. She is very well organised, but has made no provision for her coming baby?" "Honestly, I never thought about it." "But don't you think it is just a little strange?" "What do you mean?" "I'll bet you ten quid that she has a mysterious 'miscarriage' just after the wedding." "You don't think she is pregnant at all, do you?" "You got it in one!" "She's tricking me into marriage?" "You wouldn't be the first, and you won't be the last." This brought another rush of tears. I never was good at being tactful. "You can always refuse to marry her. There is no way that anyone can force you to go through with it." "I can't stop it now." "You can stop it right up until the moment that you sign the register." "My mother would kill me." "Look, it is your life. You can still say no." There was a very long silence at this point. "No, I have got to do it." We disentangled and I got up. I poured two very stiff whiskies and returned to bed. We drank them, each of us lost in his own thoughts. I don't know what he was thinking, but I was feeling sorry for him. He really didn't have much in the way of a spine, and now he was being railroaded into marriage. Still it was his life, his choices, I could only give advice. What the fuck, he's a one night stand, why should I worry? After the drinks we went back to snogging until Morpheus slipped us into his arms, and carried us off. About 6am I woke and found his head next to mine on the pillow. Slowly I pieced together the night before. In the cold, sober light of dawn, I doubted the wisdom of my actions, but what is done cannot be undone. So I rolled over and cuddled him and eventually he woke. Now if you have taken a straight guy to bed this is the point where he plays the scene entitled, "Ohmygawd I was so drunk last night that I don't remember a thing!" This is usually followed by me repeating the fuck, just to reinforce his memory. But no, he started off exactly where we had left off, snogging. Well, one thing leads to another, and I am a red blooded male. So in a very short time we were having a rematch. The two hickeys I had left on him made his buns look cross-eyed. I wondered how he would explain them to his bride. God, I do some damn stupid things when I have a drink in me. So I had him face down on the bed again. I slid a finger in and found he was still slack from the night before, so getting in would be easy. By way of a change I pulled him up onto his hands and knees and mounted him doggy style. As before I began slowly and gently. "No! Do it properly, like you did last night." he said. "You mean like this?" I asked, firmly grabbing him by the hips and running everything up a couple of notches. "Yes, but harder." "OK kid it's your ass," I said, going straight into the fury of the fuck. I let go of his hips, slid my palms up his chest and played with his tits. While this did have the desired effect, in that it turned him on, it also made him jump about a bit and, difficult to fuck. So I ran my palms right up his chest and over his shoulders. Hooking my hands back over his shoulders gave me the perfect grip on him. "Got ya! Now I'm gonna fuck ya till I cum!" I growled in his ear. He was sort of whimpering. But, as he was making no effort to escape, I kept up my pace. That nice round bum of his felt wonderful as I slammed into it. What a waste he was getting married. Still, live for today. All too soon my rogering cock was dumping another load inside his body. It felt especially good. This may have been because I had reason to believe that I would be the first and last guy to fuck him. He flopped down flat on the bed with me still inside him. I left it in as I had knackered myself fucking him and needed the rest. Besides it felt nice and I wanted to enjoy what little time I had left with him. When I was ready I put him on his back, spread his legs wide, knelt between them and gave him the longest, slowest and best blow job that I have ever done. I started with the head and began to lick it like a lollypop. He lay back, put his hands behind his head and gave in to the hedonistic pleasures of having his cock sucked by an expert. Next I ran the head of it through my lips, over and over again. This continuously repeated movement is guaranteed to drive any guy, no matter how jaded, mad. As Ozzy was anything but jaded, and it made him moan an awful lot. However I kept my pace slow and gentle. "I think that I'm gonna..." he gasped, after a few minutes. "Not a chance," I thought, changing tactics. Now for a bit of deep throating. There is a trick to getting a cock over your throat. It is well worth the effort of learning, as it makes you very popular. "Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Ozzy, as my nose pushed its way into his cute little blond bush. I gulped, his cock twitched, he sighed. Ever so slowly I fucked my face on his manhood, breathing only on the up strokes. After a while I looked up at him. His hands had come out from behind his head and they had a death grip on the rails at the head of the bed. His face was contorted with pleasure. I kept the pressure up. "If I don't come soon, I'll go mad!" he pleaded. I checked. Yup his nuts were tight against the base of his pole. I caressed them with my left hand while the middle finger of my right one entered him and headed for that hottest of spots on a male, which is so well hidden. Once I got on target we were into the end game. I rubbed his prostate, his hips moved and he fucked my face. His prostate hardened, and the cock in my throat began pumping his seed into my belly. I kept his cock buried in my throat until I had to breathe. Fortunately for both of us I enjoy snorkelling and I can hold my breath for over a minute, so he got his money's worth. All in all, it was a fitting end to his short experience of with sex other males. After breakfast I got the car out and drove him home. Except for him giving me directions, we rode in silence. "You had better let me out here, this is the street that I live on and I'll walk the rest of the way," he said. I pulled over to the curb and we sat looking at each other. God I felt really sorry for the poor bugger. His life was a total mess and he didn't have the balls to do anything about it. I saw the tears begin to form in his eyes. So I did a quick look round and made sure there was no one near enough the car to see us, before I kissed him. God he held that kiss longer than I had held his cock in my throat. Finally we broke. "I'll never forget you!" were his last words as he got out of the car and fled down the street. Something must have got into my eyes as they began to water a bit. But what the Hell, life must go on. Hopefully whoever replaced him in my bed tonight would not have so many hang-ups. I went home and back to bed. About 2pm I rose and went off to do my weekend shopping. I got back by 4pm and I was in the middle of putting everything away when the doorbell rang. On the doorstep was Ozzy. Dressed in a grey morning suit, no top hat, the tears, as ever, running down his face. "What happened?" I asked, as I stepped aside to let him in. He was in my arms before I could even close the door. "When it was my turn to say, 'I do' I didn't. Instead I turned and ran. Can I stop with you for a while? I can't go home." I nodded. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now all that happened 18 years ago. This morning when I woke his head was still next to mine on the pillow. So I suppose that I'd better let him stay. The End. Comments and criticism may be emailed to; jamieanderson@compuserve.com Flames may be emailed to any AOL address that takes your fancy. My thanks, as usual, to RH for making me look literate.

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