The bartender’s handsome face was turned to the side, taking the order of some other guy as I approached the bar. A red tie for Valentine’s Day dangled provocatively between his meaty, hairy pecs. Christ, he was gorgeous with his scruffy face and ice-blue eyes. I wanted him in the worst way, but I knew the odds were stacked against me.
“You’re coming with me to Club Spurt tonight,” my roommate Kyle insisted. “It’s their big Valentine’s Day bash where they auction off their hot, shirtless bartenders at the end of the night.”
“Isn’t that prostitution?” I quipped.
“Not when it’s for charity,” Kyle insisted with a devious smile. “Whoever bids the most on each bartender gets to play Seven Minutes In Heaven with him in one of the VIP rooms at closing—no questions asked—with all proceeds going towards the new downtown LGBTQ resource center.”
“I’m not going,” I refused. “First, I have no money to waste on a meathead bartender who won’t be into me and, second, I’m not yet ready for the gay bar scene.”
“You and Tanner broke up two months ago,” Kyle groaned. “You need to get your ass back out there and live a little. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Club Spurt was wall-to-wall guys when we arrived, their Valentine’s Day bash being one of their hottest nights of the year. Guys dressed in their most provocative attire raved on the dance floor to the sound of a booming bass, the club lights flashing and silhouetting their eager-to-score bodies. I wanted to turn around and go home for a night of Netflix in my pajamas, but Kyle wasn’t having it.
“Get your ass to the bar for a drink,” he insisted. “And let me know which bartender you want me to bid on for you. We’re getting you some action tonight—even if we have to pay for it.”
And that’s when I saw him—the hottest bartender there—taking orders with a red tie dangling between his meaty, hairy pecs. He mixed a vodka tonic for the guy next to me before fixing his eyes upon me.
“What can I get you?” the hot bartender asked, melting me with his dashing smile.
“I—uh—I’ll have a rum and coke,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You got it,” he winked, filling a tumbler with ice and then pouring my drink. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jake,” I smiled bashfully as I watched him work.
“You gonna bid on any of us bartenders tonight, Jake?” he asked, handing me my drink. “My name is Zach, if you want to bid on me.”
“I doubt you’d want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with me,” I admitted. “I mean, you’re way out of my league. Your biceps are thicker than my thighs.”
“Well,” he leaned across the bar, his breath hot at my ear, “maybe I like a pair of skinny legs wrapped around my muscled ass when I’m balls deep in a hot twink like you.”
Time stopped in that moment. My mind reeled. Had the hottest bartender at Club Spurt just made a pass at me? I felt lightheaded, on the brink of passing out, when Kyle was suddenly pulling me away from the bar.
“Of course you’d go for the hottest bartender here,” Kyle laughed. “Did you get his name so we can bid on him?”
“Yeah—Zach,” I replied, his name warm on my tongue.
Kyle quickly disappeared to find the bidding table near the DJ booth. He returned a few minutes later with a look of disappointment on his face.
“I hate to break this to you, but your heartthrob has the most bids so far,” Kyle reported. “Zach is clearly the favorite here tonight, with bids already above $250. I can’t go much higher than that for you.”
“It’s okay,” I assured Kyle. “Just getting to flirt with him at the bar was all the fun I needed tonight.”
But that was a lie. Knowing that some other guy would garner the winning bid for Zach that evening was soul crushing. And it didn’t help that Zach kept catching my eye all night, winking at me from his post at the bar as he watched guy after guy trying to grind up against me on the dance floor.
“Let’s go back home,” I begged Kyle at the end of the night, just before the DJ announced the winners of the Valentine charity auction. “I know there’s no way that I won Zach.”
“We’re not leaving,” Kyle refused. “I’ve got some money on that one,” he gestured to a hot, muscled bartender with a handlebar mustache and a sleeve tattoo.
One by one, the DJ announced the winning bids, with Kyle losing out on his bid for the inked hottie. The DJ finally got to Zach, saving the best for last. I wanted to climb into a hole, unwilling to witness some other guy winning the man of my dreams. And so it was a huge shock when the DJ called out my name with a winning bid of over $600 dollars.
“What the fuck?!” I turned to Kyle in total shock. “Did you—?”
“It wasn’t me,” he began to explain in shock just before Zach suddenly appeared at my side, pulling me towards a VIP room off the dance floor for our seven-minute grope fest as the crowd cheered us on.
“How—how did this happen?” I asked Zach as he closed the door to the room, locking us inside. But he ignored me, pulling me into him. His lips were suddenly at mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, his kiss melting me.
“I’ve wanted to be inside you all night,” he confessed, his hands undoing my pants. “We’re gonna have to make this quick—we’ve only got seven minutes before the crowd expects us to emerge.”
Zach wanted to fuck me? Was this really happening?
Within seconds, we were both naked, with the exception of Zach’s red tie, still dangling between his hairy pecs. His hands were all over me, his cock raging hard with anticipation. Jesus, he was hung, easily over eight inches. He swooped me off my feet effortlessly, his muscular body pressed up against me as he carried me to a black, leather couch.
Reclining me against the cushions, Zach promptly pushed my legs up to my knees and dove into my hole, eating me out like he was ravenous. His warm, wet tongue on my hole drove me wild, my toes curling as my sphincter began to open for him.
“Fuuuuck, that feels good,” I moaned, caressing the nape of his neck as he devoured my cunt. “Fuck me,” I begged, my hole ready for him. “Fuck me with that big cock.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Zach winked, coming up for air, his chin wet with saliva. Instantly, I could feel the rounded tip of his ample cock head pressing against the folds of my cunt, breaching my fuck canal.
“FUCK,” I gasped as Zach plunged into me, instantly balls deep in my bowels. Instinctively my legs wrapped around his meaty ass, pulling him deeper into me.
“Christ, you’re tight,” he marveled. “You’re not a virgin are you?”
“I’m hardly a virgin,” I laughed, bracing my hands against his hairy pecs, the red tie swinging in unison with each thrust that he delivered. “But I’ve never been fucked by a dick this big. You’re hung like fuck.”
“It gets the job done,” Zach smiled modestly, before picking up the pace, delivering a rapid succession of deep thrusts into my bowels. “We gotta make this quick,” he announced, the sound of the crowd just outside our room. “They’ll break down the door if we’re not out of here in a few minutes.”
Keeping his promise, Zach began to pummel me hard, fucking me in that rapid rhythm that a top will employ when he’s ready to dump his load. If given the choice, I would have allowed Zach to fuck me all night long, seeding my ass with load after load. But I had to be grateful that this hot hung top was inside me—even if it was all just because of a charity auction. Deep down inside, I knew our encounter was just a one-off, but I was okay with that. Zach was giving me a memory that I would never forget.
“I’m getting close,” he warned urgently, pulling me back to the moment. “You cool if I dump in you? Shoot my load up your ass?”
“Yes,” I begged loudly. “Breed my fucking hole.”
Instantly, Zach shoved deep inside me, my eyes rolling back into my head, as his cock began to throb in my depths. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, willing him to deposit his seed in my darkest recesses.
“FUCK—FUCK,” he grunted, collapsing into me, his load spewing in my bowels, a distinct warmth emanating from deep inside of me. “Yeah, take my fucking nut,” he moaned, as I wrapped my arms around his torso, his back sweaty with exertion.
“Shit, we better get back out there,” Zach declared, pulling out of me abruptly, his pearly load spilling out from my wrecked hole. The crowd outside our door had begun chanting, “TIME’S UP—TIME’S UP,” over and over again. Fuckers. Seven minutes was much too short. It was time for our walk of shame.
“Thanks for giving me the best Valentine’s Day ever,” I said bashfully as we quickly dressed, the crowd growing louder at the door. “Do you maybe want my number—I mean, assuming you might want to see me again some other time?”
“Some other time?” Zach laughed, pulling me into him with a kiss. “You’re coming home with me tonight, you silly boy. Who do you think placed the winning bid in your name?”
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
titsay
izzy806
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