Tempting Things

“I’m gonna have a few guys over tonight,” my older brother Dylan informed me earlier that day.

“But Mom and Dad said no parties while they’re out of town,” I protested.

“It’s not a fuckin’ party,” Dylan snapped back. “It’s just a few of my buds hanging out here.”

But from past experience, I knew it would be a party. Unlike me, Dylan had always been popular with a large circle of buddies. There would be at least thirty hot guys, a couple of kegs, a stack of pizzas in the kitchen, beer pong in the garage, a poker game at the dining table, and pussy porn streaming in the den.

I had often fantasized about being on my knees in the den, sucking off a circle of drunk straight guys as some porn bitch got her pussy railed on the TV screen. Dylan’s party could finally be my chance.

“Can I hang with you guys?” I asked hopefully, desperate to be included for once, eager to make my naughty fantasy come true.

“Fuck no,” Dylan spat.

“But I’m eighteen now,” I pleaded.

“You’ll stay upstairs in your room, like always,” he ordered. “And if you breathe a fucking word of this to Mom and Dad, I’ll kick your ass.”

Rejected by my brother once again, my dreams dashed, I suddenly had an epiphany. Just because I couldn’t attend the party, didn’t mean I couldn’t bring the party to me.

When it came to sex, I wasn’t all that experienced. But there was one thing that I knew for sure—that a drunk straight guy will stick his dick in just about any warm hole that he can find. That night, my warm hole would be free for the taking.

Dylan’s buddies started arriving around 10 pm, cars and trucks lining up and down the street. By midnight, there had to be forty guys at the house, and from the noise emanating from downstairs, they were drunk off their asses. It was time to put my plan in motion.

The hall bathroom was directly opposite my bedroom. As the party raged on, with guys getting more and more drunk, I knew there would be a steady line of guys streaming in and out of that bathroom, eager to take a piss. And after draining their full bladders in the toilet, they could then cross the hall and drain their full balls in me.

I stripped down naked, greased up my hole with some lube, and positioned myself face down on the bed. My ass was presented towards the door, open and ready for any willing participant. I wouldn’t have to wait long.

The first guy came ambling up the stairs, completely wasted, gripping the rail with each step. I craned my neck to get a better look at him. Dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans that highlighted an ample bulge, I recognized him as one of Dylan’s former football teammates. Brad or maybe Chad? I couldn’t remember his name, but I knew that I wanted his cock.

Burying my face back into the pillow, I heard him unzipping his jeans as he lifted the toilet seat, and then the splash of his stream into the bowl. He pissed like a racehorse, proof that he had consumed several beers. After his bladder had been emptied, I heard him flush. My heart raced, wondering if he would spot me on the bed, praying he would use me.

“What the fuck?” he blurted, his eyes obviously upon me. I looked back and saw him in the doorway, his thick cock still hanging out of his pants, a golden drop of piss dangling at the tip.

“Fuck my ass,” I encouraged him, burying my face again. “Use my tight hole.”

He was silent, his wheels turning. Guys like him never think of fucking another dude. But guys like him are also helpless to resist an easy hole. Would he take the plunge—both literally and figuratively?

Suddenly, I felt his weight on the bed, his knees pushing my legs wider. His meaty hand was on my back, his rounded cock head finding my hole. And then—wham—he was inside me.

“FUCK,” I gasped, a flash of white-hot pain as he plunged my depths, his balls pressed against my hole.

With all his weight upon me, he worked quickly and rhythmically, pounding me over and over in a violent frenzy. It hurt so good, the flashes of pain mixing with euphoric waves of pleasure. I didn’t want it to end, but he was driving hard at his mission to dump his load in me as quickly as possible.

“Get ready for my nut,” he announced urgently, biting at my ear, his big cock swelling inside me. Instantly, a deep throbbing consumed my body as spurt after spurt of his load released inside me.

“You tell no one about this,” he commanded as he pulled out of me, his warm cum escaping from my used hole.

But he must have told someone, because not two minutes after he tumbled back downstairs, I was being mounted by another drunk dude . . . and then another . . . and another. I lost count of how many cocks I took that night, but I’d guess that at least twenty of Dylan’s buddies bred my hole as the party raged on into the wee hours of the morning.

Dylan was nursing a cup of coffee when I tumbled downstairs late the next morning, my wrecked hole throbbing with each step. The house was a mess, littered with red Solo cups.

“I know what you did last night,” Dylan sneered as I entered the kitchen. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Please, Dylan. I can explain—” I pleaded, but Dylan raised his hand to silence me.

“Look, I don’t care if you want to offer up your sloppy ass to all my drunk buddies,” he began, “but clue me in next time. We can charge those horny motherfuckers fifty bucks a pop and then split the cash. Understand?”

“Yes,” I agreed, eager to be a cum dump for my brother’s buddies again.

“Good,” Dylan smiled devilishly. “Now bend over this table for me. I’ve got a four-day load in these balls for you.”