Middle Men

Number One arrived for me when the cable television show I had devoted the past six years of my life to got axed from next season’s lineup. Guess the network execs were as tired of stories about vampires, werewolves and witches as the fans were. I was really going to miss that writing gig, and the actors and crew, as well. The passing of my beloved bulldog, Roxie, a week later was Number Two. She had lived to eleven and had been loyal and affectionate to the very end. The same could not, however, be said of Number Three: my boyfriend of nearly a decade. At thirty-seven, he said he was feeling old and complacent in our relationship and had decided it was time for a change. The change’s name was Armani, a twenty-two-year-old stripper from Vegas.

The irony was not lost on me when I landed a new writing job shortly after the breakup. It was a reality show centered on five young Las Vegas strippers—three females and two males— all living in the same luxury condo off the Strip. I was due to start in three weeks.

With suitcase in tow, a wedding band tossed into a dresser drawer (screw the ex!), and trying not to cry every time I thought about poor Roxie, I left sunny, warm Los Angeles for even sunnier, warmer Sin City. Consider it a combo research and relaxation getaway.

My cell phone rang through the convertible’s audio speakers twenty miles outside of town. Above the rush of hot wind, the voice of an overly synthesized pop singer announced herself in a breathy voice, called me a bitch, and then mocked me with girlish laughter.

Suzanne Donahue, a good friend since college and head of PR for one of the shiny new hotels at City Center, was fun, sassy and always ready to party. She was the first person I had contacted about my trip to Vegas.

The Nine Inch Nails’s song Closer resumed where it had left off just as I got my first glimpse of the city in the distance. The hotels lining the Strip sparkled under the desert sun in a shimmering ripple of heat waves, as the raspy singer proclaimed his absence of faith and that he wanted to fuck me like an animal. With any luck, his primal sentiment would become my personal anthem over the next few days, because I desperately needed to let loose and have some guilt-free fun.

I had told Suzie about the split with Steve and poor Roxie over the phone last week. As for looking good, the convertible ride had deepened my tan to a dark honey color, which made my pale green eyes extra vibrant. I was a fitness freak and managed to get in some form of physical exercise at least five times a week. The good genes and hard work had paid off. I looked a lot younger than the birth date printed on my driver’s license—so said the cute twentysomething’s at the gym. “Guess you never noticed before,” I said coyly.

I smiled and took in the hip restaurant around us. The lush Asian decor played host to a waterfall and carp-filled pond that served as the base to a spectacular floating Buddha. Techno beats filtered throughout, as beautiful men and women mingled at the massive bar and in shadow-laced alcoves. Damn was I horny!

Suzanne rested her chin atop linked fingers, nails painted a deep fire-engine red. Her shoulder-length, Cleopatra-bobbed hair shimmered blue-black in the restaurant’s dim lighting, the charcoal eyeliner emphasizing the blue of her irises and making them seem to glow brighter. Suzanne Donahue was all vamp all the time, and Vegas loved her for it.

“You’re a lady, sort of.” The friendly crack earned me a sneer and red fingernails raised in mock retaliation. “You’re also very well-known here. As your escort for the evening, how hard could it be?”

My entire body had become a walking erection, thanks to the United Nations of beef sticks sporting all manner of revealing costumes while jockeying to make the women scream, cream and turn over their hard-earned cash.

No sooner did our asses hit a pair of club chairs than Suzie fell prey to the charms and gyrations of a sexy cowboy wearing a black Stetson and ass-revealing leather chaps. Wrangler Man quickly began giving her one of the hottest lap dances known to God and man. How, I wondered, did a straight male ever learn to move his body like that?

The stripper, I noticed, sported a shaved head under his hat. The familiar silver and onyx ring on his right, middle finger glinted back at me in the dim light. Shit. This wasn’t happening to me. It was Armani, my ex’s new boy toy. He glanced over at me then and winked, his expression assuring me that he knew exactly who I was, too.

“Hey, how you doin’?” I turned to see an athletic blond straight off the pages of one of those glossy catalogues that pushed the sexual youth exploitation envelope over the edge. Crouched down next to me, he threw out a sympathetic smile. “It’s tough to watch the Mrs. get her freak on, ain’t it?”

Bare-chested and donning silver breakaway basketball pants that flowed teasingly over muscular thighs and other, more tantalizing, parts, the stripper leaned in, grazing my ear with his lips, and spoke something I couldn’t hear. The contact sent an electric thrill through me, but the thunderous music and shrieking woman had swallowed his words.

He meant Suzanne. He knew we were not husband and wife, but still assumed we were an item and that I might get off watching him do my woman in front of me. Was he in for a surprise.

He waited for an answer, his well-muscled arms braced on the armrest of my club chair. He smelled clean and fresh and I was so damned hard. It’s funny how resentment and desire can make a person bust-at-the-seams horny.

I pulled back and peered into what had to be very blue eyes in normal light, wrapped a hand around the back of his smooth, tanned neck, and gently pulled him forward against my own lips. His skin was so warm under my fingers. “For a hundred bucks, you’d better do me as well.”

He jerked back and puffed out his chest. “Whoa!” He yelled over the roar of the music, hands raised in a back off gesture as he stood up. “Not my scene, buddy.”

He studied the card for a moment, looked as though he was about to hand it back, and then slipped it into the top of his gym pants and walked away. He was back five minutes later crouching down next to me again. “Sorry man, I’m just not into guys.”

“That’s too bad.” Playtime was over. This guy wasn’t just a stripper. His comment about doing Suzie for cash also made him a prostitute. “’Cause I give amazing head.”

He regarded me for a long moment, inner struggle patent on his face. “Some head might be cool,” he ultimately leaned in to say. “But I won’t fuck you. I’m also three-fifty an hour, and it’s a cash-only deal. You down?”

“When the lady here was part of the deal and we were back in the private show area.” He gestured to the dark, elevated section behind us. “Take it or leave it.”

I watched him peacock strut across the room to a party of twenty screaming, sexually charged women. Ordinarily, I would have wondered how on earth a gay man was supposed to compete with all that eager pussy. Not tonight, though. I had a hunch about my sexy, blond stripper. He’d come through in the end.

“Yes, sir.” The desk clerk sounded irritated. I could hear a muffled male voice in the background saying something to her. “He says you told him to come over after work.”

I’d gotten in from my night on the town an hour ago and fallen face-first into bed. I’d put away enough tequila to be considered legally dead. Curiously, the booze hadn’t taken any of the horny out of me. A few minutes later, a series of quick raps on the door broke the silence. Opening it, I found not one but two hot men standing there—my apollonian stripper and an Italian-looking stud with a beefier bod.

“This is Vinnie,” the blond said, gesturing behind him. “We gotta be some place after this. You don’t mind if he hangs here while we...ya know?”

Hooking up with two men wasn’t virgin territory for me. Paying for sex was, however. As was having to confront the idea that this might be a shakedown—a couple of straight guys out to teach a fag a lesson. However, instinct told me this wasn’t the case.

Vinnie whistled loudly and pushed past his friend before I had a chance to welcome them inside. “Never been in the Aria before. Check out that view!”

Suzie had booked me a suite with the requisite view of the Vegas Strip, still sparkling and flashing at this late hour. It looked as though I was about to break the place in good and proper.

Vinnie was standing in front of the living room’s angled wall of glass as I bid my blond stripper to come in, and then shut the door. Vinnie turned around then, snatched a magazine off the coffee table, flopped onto the sofa, arranging himself into a comfortable position, and kicked off his shoes. “Sweet!”

When I refocused my attention on Kevin, he was shirtless and slowly pushing the waistband of his silver basketball pants down to reveal the manicured crown of his pubic hair.

He tossed me a look that didn’t so much ask if I liked what I saw, inasmuch as he knew without question how easy on the eyes he was. “Wanna get started?”

The athletic pants glided the rest of the way over slender hips and down tight, muscular thighs, to puddle around his bare ankles. He stepped out of them now and offered me another seductive glance.

I moved toward Kevin, feeling an overwhelming desire to possess him. Steve had been the dominant top in our relationship, and now it was my turn. I would take the sex this young man offered and stroke it, lick up and down the length of it, and then devour it completely. I wanted to feel his warm, eager skin pressed against my own, run my tongue over it and savor its salty goodness, and then I would make him beg me to fuck him.

Kevin had climbed onto the bed and rested back against the pillows propped against the colossal headboard, legs splayed, his fleshy penis and ball sac daring me to draw closer. He actually elevated his hips slightly to call greater attention to them.

His challenge further ignited my drive to possess him. “Never said good,” I corrected him. “Amazing is more like it.” Again, his hips rose and fell to underscore his point, and I let my thick cotton bathrobe fall to the floor, “By the end of this, you’re gonna want to pay me.”

I climbed onto the mattress and bent to nuzzle his crotch. It held muskiness, a side effect of the nylon basketball pants still lying in a crumpled pile in the center of the doorway. The scent was intoxicating, and my tongue and I wasted little time licking at the fullness of his balls, at the hard ridge just behind it.

My apollonian stripper let loose a deep groan. That he enjoyed the feeling of my mouth on him was obvious; his erection stood full and proud. So, I wrapped my hand around the thickness of it, continuing to run my tongue over the area near his anus while gently stroking his shaft to greater stiffness.

My tongue ran the length of him, savoring the salty sweetness, and then tarried at the tip, exploring the tiny slit there before taking all of him into my mouth. He arched his back, forcing the tip of my nose all the way down to his pubic hair, and then began pumping his hips in a slow, rhythmic motion. The thickness of him brought me up for air every now and again. The man had a cock to match the rest of his body—beautiful and strong.

Over his pleasure, I heard the pages of Vinnie’s magazine turning faster and faster in the other room. It looked as though Kevin and I were not the only ones getting hot and bothered.

Kevin rolled onto his hands and knees, knocked all the pillows away, and then reached down to pull me up through his legs to his former position with tanned, muscular arms. He rocked his crotch up to my mouth, bracing his hands against the pristine white headboard. In a low growl, he said, “Suck it!”

We went at it for some time, switching positions; me moving from giving head to licking his tight, hot little asshole. Kevin rewarded me with a mixture of whimpers and growls each time I breached the warm opening with my tongue. He was going to be one helluva ride.

My own ass up in the air, Kevin’s calves and heels resting atop my shoulders and back, my tongue imbedded in his greedy hole, I felt the mattress shift from added weight.

“You just keep that ass right where it is.” Vinnie’s voice held a dark, ragged edge, his breathing heavy. “Vinnie’s gonna take real good care of it.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see him kneeling behind me. Fully naked, his body was a shrine to physical perfection, his chest covered in a light dusting of black, curly hair. His longish mane tumbled into brown eyes as he worked a condom over a very robust dick.

Kevin was getting off on this, a game played within the comfort and safety of a hotel room. These guys weren’t here to do anything I didn’t want them to, and I wanted them to do it all!

I threw my head back and laughed; a deep, sensual sound that caused Vinnie to bury his tongue in my ass. “By plans,” I said with a squirming grunt, “I hope you mean fucking me senseless.”

My cock twitched between my legs and I ground my ass against Vinnie’s amazingly talented tongue. Nevertheless, Kevin was too eager and pulled me on top of him, my balls dragging over his erection until it rested against the valley of my ass cheeks. Our faces were inches apart, our bellies slick with perspiration. Up to this point, he had turned away whenever my lips got too close to his mouth. Now he just stared at me, a mixture of aggression and pure desire dancing in his vibrant blue eyes.

With his hand directing the head of Kevin’s cock, he pressed it against my puckering hole, and then pushed down on my lower back with the other. I bit down on the pressure, relaxing my muscles around his considerable girth. Then Kevin’s hand shot up and wrapped around the back of my head, jerking me forward and locking his lips over mine, his warm tongue exploring my mouth with total abandon.

“Better save some of that for me.” Vinnie pressed the weight of his chest against my back. His upper body hair tickled the slick skin there, and I moved to create more friction, reveling in the sensation, while Kevin continued to kiss and pound me furiously. “Slow it down,” he instructed in a throaty voice, as his meaty dick joined the party.

One of Vinnie’s beefy arms slid over my back and around my neck, his hand holding me steady around the chest as he shoved something acrid under my nose with his free hand.

I hollered as he forced himself up my already stuffed hole. But then sexual energy ignited inside me. It didn’t care that my asshole wasn’t built to accommodate one cock, let alone two. Nor did it care that I had broken out in a heavy sweat, panting from the sheer exertion of being power-fucked. The energy needed more. It demanded more.

I took a deeper hit off the small blue bottle Vinnie shoved under my nose again and the worst part of the pain started to melt away. All I could feel was the glorious, intense sensation of two big cocks gliding against each other inside me, the heady effect of the poppers flooding my body in a warm, tingling rush. I smiled inwardly, thinking how these two muscular bodies sandwiching me wanted a bitch to break. Well, maybe I would break them in the process.

Kevin groaned into my mouth and Vinnie’s arm tightened about my chest, his breath hot in my ear, a faint trace of whiskey on it, as he licked and nibbled the lobe. The heat issuing from our bodies from the feverish pumping and thrusting had our skin drenched with sweat, as Vinnie’s furry chest and stomach slid across my back, the coarse hairs a riot of pleasure against my spine. Kevin’s belly made loud sucking and popping noises against my own, as I repeatedly received each man’s urgent advances with greedy abandon.

As if on cue, Vinnie snarled above me, biting and licking at the area between my neck and shoulder blades, his hands reaching around to paw and pump at my pecs, pinching my hard nipples almost cruelly.

Desert sun poured through the large bedroom windows. The neutral walls, bright white headboard and gleaming modern furnishings were too vital in this light.

Rolling onto my back, I brought a protective hand up to shield my eyes from the intensity of it and noticed the damp bedding. The air smelled like a mixture of chlorine and body odor. My two strippers were sound asleep on either side of me in the king size bed.

Then my cell phone rang. I crawled forward to the bench at the foot of the bed and retrieved it. The number displayed quickly wiped the smile from my face.

“Babe?” The familiar voice asked. It was Steve, my ex. “I was an asshole, and I’m sorry. The whole Armani thing was a colossal fuck-up. The prick actually dumped me for some bitch named Suzie.”

Ready to throw the phone across the room, I felt the contact of a warm, naked body glide across my own. Kevin was lying on top of me and gently extracted the cell phone from my hand and brought it up to his lips. “Rich can’t talk right now,” he told Steve. “I’m about to give his ass a good pounding...again.”

Without signing off, Kevin replaced the phone on the bench and slipped inside me. We both cried out and, before I completely lost myself to his beautiful cock inside me once more, I heard Steve shout in frustration, “Fuck!”