It was a quiet night at the Booty Lounge. The crowd was less than a fifth of its normal size. It was Thanksgiving night, and most of our crew was away with their families, eating turkey with Mom, Dad, Aunt Embarrassing and Uncle Dickhead. Those of us who were here tonight either didn’t have families or through some twist of fate, didn’t have anywhere else to be other than a club known for bondage and debauchery.
You might think we would be having a blast, but the mood was somber, even depressed. Spankings were half-hearted, and when men came in the mouths of sluts, their groans were more sighs than expressions of joy. Flirtatious tarts didn’t smile, and submissive men found no comfort under a pointed heel.
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Yes, we are sick, perverted fucks who spend 364 days a year thinking of our next delight, but on this night, our hearts yearned for the comfort that comes from being with a family that loves you. The fact that most of never had a family that loved us didn’t matter. We mourned for the family we all felt we should have had.
Our captain, No-Pants Wally, did his best to boost spirits. Five glorious turkeys filled our tables, and each one was given the name of a famous pirate. I ate from Anne Bonney myself. No-Pants imported exotic beer from foreign lands and filled our mugs with one strange flavor after another. The captain moved around constantly, playing the part of the good host a bit more than usual. He took responsibility for our cheer, and if you have never had a 6-foot-6 bearded man who never wears pants trying to cheer you up, then you have never truly lived. The captain’s honest happiness was infectious, but when he left a laughing group to attend to one sad fellow, the group that had been laughing would soon quiet, each member thinking lonely thoughts.
“Tom, I don’t fucking understand this shit,” No-Pants Wally confessed to me. “They have beer, they have food, and Christ on a stick, they could have cock and pussy if they would quit mooning like homesick sailors at sea! If they wanted to be so damned depressed, they could have stayed at home and jacked off to the Macy’s parade!”
“Captain, no matter how great the paradise, people will always miss what they feel everyone else has,” I said. “The rest of the world has aunts, uncles and gossip about Grandma’s new friends. Other people have children that look like them and cousins who are not doing as well as they are. They have food shared with people they have known all their lives. Not even you can compete with that.”
“Mermaids’ balls!” No-Pants bellowed. “They also have jealous siblings and screaming brats who won’t shut up no matter how hard you kick them! Father-fucking bastards forget how good they have it here!”
The captain slammed his fist out and stormed into his quarters. A moment later, he came out brandishing an enormous cock. No, not the lengthy piece of manhood that always dangles between his legs. This was a polished piece of oak, 12 magnificent inches in length and as thick as sin. Captain No-Pants grabbed a stool and put the stool in the center of the room. He set the dildo pointing straight up on the stool.
“Busty Linda carved this for me, but since this is the holidays I’m going to give you sorry bunch of sad sacks of flesh a chance to win this. Which of you cock-hungry sluts want a chance to win what could be the biggest cock you ever put inside you?”
The crew came to life. Busty Linda made the finest dildos of all of us. Like any true artist, she doesn’t give her work away cheaply. She makes us pay in cash, tongue or ass for her glorious dildos. A chance to win one without having to submit to Linda’s sadistic requests was enough to shake even this group out of its malaise.
“I will!” Silent Bonnie said.
“I will, too,” James the Hairy said.
Six women and three men volunteered, and the rest of us gathered around to watch. No-Pants Wally looked at the contestants, and he looked at the cock. He came up with a game in less than a minute, which of course, is why he is the captain.
“We’re going to play Hands on the Hard Cock,” No-Pants yelled. “The rules are fucking simple. Keep your hand on the cock, and if you take your hand off, you lose. Be the last one with your hand on the cock ,and you get to keep it. Only other rule is no fighting! I’m looking at you, Robert! You got to stand there and keep a firm grip!”
Each of the players grabbed as much of the cock as they could. They had to crowd around the stool so they could all touch it. At first, I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to see when someone let go of the cock, but I saw that all the players were staring at the cock. When someone does let go, eight other people will be yelling for joy.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but personally I think the Duchess is going to win,” No-Pants said. “And I’ll bet the use of my bedroom for one night against anyone who thinks differently!”
“I’ll take that bet,” Michelle said. “And I’ll bet the use of my girlfriend for one night.”
“Anyone else want to pick a favorite?” No-Pants asked, and just like that, the rest of us were involved. Being the scribe of the crew, I wrote down everyone’s bet till the list was a pool of carnal favors and delights. For the record, I bet I would write the account of what the winner did with his loot. If there is something all perverts loves, it is having their exploits recorded for bragging about later.
As for my bet? I bet on James the Hairy. I’ve never seen him let go of a cock. When he doesn’t have one to grab, he holds his own. The man was born with a cock in his hand, which probably made his birth somewhat complicated.
The mood was much better as we watched the contest unfold. Bets made, the gamblers shifted to trash-talking the other players while praising their own. The players glowed under the attention. Rarely had they received so much encouragement for holding a cock.
Beer-Can Carl was the first to lose. He had to sneeze, and being a gentleman, he instinctively used his hand to cover his mouth. We all got a good laugh out of the shocked look on his face when he realized what he’d done. Silent Bonnie, who was standing in front of him, offered to blow him later in thanks for his not sneezing on her bare back. He was a happy loser.
The other losers followed in their own way. Natalie lost because she’d had too much beer to drink and wasn’t quite willing to piss herself to win. Two lost because their need to sit down overwhelmed their urge to win. Robert lost his grip when James cracked a joke so dirty that Robert doubled over laughing. As each person let go, he or she was welcomed into the crowd of spectators with consolation beer and sympathy hand jobs.
The game changed when James was eliminated. He was the last guy standing there, and the Duchess pinched his ass. James squealed like a college freshman and jumped 3 feet in the air. We all laughed, and James’s face blushed so deep you could see the red through his black beard.
“No fair!” James whined. “There was supposed to be no touching!”
We looked to the captain for a ruling. “No, I said no fighting. You can touch all you want if you think you can win.”
A sultry whimsy rippled through us all. There were only three girls left. Ten-Inch Vicky was a tall blonde whose ass was legendary for the depths cocks and dildos have reached. The Duchess was an older lady whose slender body and firm legs were the envy of women half her age. Last was Silent Bonnie, a short brunette who has never made a sound when she climaxed no matter how many mouths have tried. If they took advantage of the captain’s suggestion, things would get very interesting indeed.
The Duchess, the one who’d pinched James, took to the new rules immediately. She was in front of Silent Bonnie and slipped her hand under Bonnie’ T-shirt. The sheer material provided no cover as the Duchess squeezed and caressed Bonnie’s breast. We watched as she pulled and tugged on Bonnie’s nipples.
Behind Bonnie, Ten-Inch Vicky was going to work. Being taller than Bonnie, it was easy to bend down and bite the woman’s ear. With a tenderness we rarely see at the Booty Lounge, Ten-Inch nibbled Bonnie’s ear. Maybe she also whispered something to Bonnie that only they could hear. That would certainly explain why Bonnie closed her eyes and bit her lip.
Sensing weakness, the Duchess let go of Bonnie’s breast and reached between the woman’s thighs. Her hand slipped into Bonnie’s black bikini bottom and manipulated her cunt directly. Bonnie tried fighting back by reaching for the Duchess’s breast, but that was probably the wrong idea. When two women are double-teaming you, grabbing for one of their breasts is not the best way to calm yourself down.
Ten-Inch and the Duchess worked Bonnie over. Bonnie was trapped between two sets of mouths and hands. While the Duchess masturbated Bonnie, Vicky reached around to fondle Bonnie’s breasts. While Vicky nibbled on Bonnie’s neck, the Duchess would bite through Bonnie’s T-shirt to harass her nipples. While Bonnie writhed, her two tormentors writhed on either side of her.
Bonnie’s breathing changed and Ten-Inch’s hand joined the Duchess’s between her thighs. Two hands masturbated Bonnie while the woman’s own hand kept a white knuckled grip on the 12-inch cock. We watched the orgasm build within Bonnie as the her knees began to shake. It was coming, and we all knew it.
That was when Bonnie screamed. She yelled her bliss and the nearly-empty Booty Lounge echoed with her cry. We’d finally learned the secret to making Silent Bonnie not be silent. She let go of the cock and wrapped her arms around the other girls as her legs gave out. James and Beer-Can Carl rushed forward to help Bonnie to her feet. It wasn’t chivalry that inspired them; they just didn’t want her to drag the last two players from the game.
Ten-Inch Vicky and the Duchess looked at each other. Their free hands were sticky with Screaming Bonnie’s juices. Each was sizing the other up, looking for an advantage. The Duchess had the disadvantage as she was wearing a loose red dress that barely came down to her ass. Ten-Inch was wearing shorts, which protected her cunt, but the tightness of her shorts made one wonder if they really provided any coverage. Ten-Inch was topless, which displayed her lovely breasts but also made them easy targets. Both of them hesitated, waiting for some sort of clever strategy to come to them.
Of course, Captain No-Pants couldn’t let this stand. “Whichever wench loses has to walk the plank,” he said. “Which means the loser has to suck or lick everyone here tonight!”
“Hey!” Princess Stan protested.
“Well, of course not those who are light in the boots,” Captain No-Pants amended. “How about they clean your boots?”
“Deal!” Princess Stan said.
That was the incentive the last two needed. Still holding onto the cock, they lunged for each other. Ten-Inch went straight for the Duchess’s cunt, reaching under her dress and rubbing her clit. The Duchess groaned, but she decided to just go for the treasure chest in front of her and bit down on Ten-Inch’s bared nipple. Ten-Inch screamed, but she was made of sterner stuff. She gritted her teeth and frigged the Duchess with a fury that made some of us wince.
“I’ve had worse from frat boys,” the Duchess taunted. I had a sudden image of the elegant matron bent over for a frat-party gangbang, and I made a note to ask the Duchess more about her past.
“Bite the other one, too,” Ten-Inch said. “It itches.”
The watchers laughed, but we all saw the anger on the Duchess’s face. Her mouth snapped to the other breast, and she bit down like a great white. We cheered as the Duchess gobbled Ten-Inch’s tit. The grand old lady was merciless, several times pulling back with Ten-Inch’s tit trapped between her teeth, and we watched to see how far the nipple would stretch.
Ten-Inch was suffering. Her ass could take anything, but her breasts were not as durable. She let go of the Duchess’s pussy and changed tactics. She grabbed a handful of the Duchess’s silver hair and pulled the older woman off her tit. The Duchess looked as though she were going to protest, but Ten-Inch ended her protest with a kiss. The two locked lips, transferring all of their competitive fire into a battle of tongues.
Ever heard a kiss as loud as angry sex? It’s a very sensual sound. It was like listening to cunts rub together on a leather couch.
Just because they were kissing didn’t mean they had stopped playing the game. Oh, no. Ten-Inch slipped her hand back between the Duchess’s thighs, and the Duchess did the same. The shorts provided no protection as the Duchess rubbed Ten-Inch with a firm touch most of us knew well. Ten-Inch even helped, spreading her thighs and giving in to the attention. Before long, it was hard to see who was rubbing and who was humping her competitor’s hand.
Captain No-Pants could feel the end coming. He got up and walked over to the players. His usual bellow was now a low growl as he urged them on.
“Hold on tight to that cock, wenches,” he said. “Hold on tight because the loser will have a long night ahead of her. Cocks and cunts will use your fucking mouth till sunrise. You think your hand is sore? Just wait till your lips are tingling from half a dozen pussies fucking your mouth. And don’t think the winner gets off easy, either. Oh, no, no, no. You’ll be taking that cock right here for us all to see. We’re going to all watch your victory fuck, and we demand a good show.”
The two rubbed harder. They kissed with more passion. Both of them gripped the dildo tighter as they both moaned louder and louder. The two wenches fucked each other for the glory of winning and in wicked anticipation of losing. No matter what happened, they knew they would both be fucked for our enjoyment. Just knowing that they were the center of this holiday night pushed both of them to try harder.
The Duchess climaxed. Her body shook and trembled, but still she held on. We were perfectly quiet. Would an orgasm make her give up? The tension was amazing. It was like watching an egg roll along a table, not knowing if it was going to stop in time or fall off and crash. The Duchess tried to hold on, but Ten-Inch Vicky kept stroking her, and after one long trembling minute, the Duchess pushed away from Ten-Inch with both hands and flopped down onto the floor. It was only then I noticed how much both ladies were sweating. Holding a cock is hard work.
“We have a winner!” the Captain yelled. The truth was, we had all won. Gone were the moping and whining about the families we weren’t with. We had drowned our sorrow in sweat, gambling and competition. We had reminded ourselves that we are not like other people, and that was a damn good thing.
We all cheered Ten-Inch Vicky, but I think we were also cheering ourselves. Someone figured out who’d won the betting pool. It turns out it that David and Nancy won the bet so they had to figure how to share the winnings. The captain was already dragging Ten-Inch to the bar where James was waiting with Vaseline. Before the night was out, we started calling her Twelve-Inch Vicki.
I didn’t care about these details. My cock was hard, and I was standing where the Duchess had crawled. She first noticed me when I grabbed her hair and pulled her to my crotch.
“Tough break; you did good,” I said to her.
She said something, but I couldn’t understand her. My cock was already in her mouth. The Duchess groaned. She sucked as hard as she played, which made her one great cocksucker. I fucked her face not as a punishment but as my way of giving thanks for her role in saving us from ourselves. I’m not sure, but I think she was smiling when I came down her throat.
That was one down for the Duchess and the rest of the Booty Lounge to go.