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Now absolutely naked and exposed, T and I followed the butler as he took us through the immense house and down into the basement where Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags were waiting for us. In one of my hands I held an eighteen-inch, black doubled-ended rubber dildo, which flopped about in my hand while I walked, with a bottle of body oil in my other hand.
T had been in this part of the house before and knew where we were headed. When we reached the entrance to what was a theatre and private entertainment area they had constructed in part of their cavernous basement area, before entering and making our appearance, T stopped me in the doorway. 'We should probably be hard for them when we go in,’ he explained as he grabbed my penis and began stroking me.
I did likewise for him and for around half a minute until we were both stiff, we felt up each other’s manhood, sometimes T would slip his fingers around my ball and dart a finger into my ass, as he knew that my asshole was sensitive to arousal when touched.
‘Okay, let’s go’. I picked up the dildo and oil and followed him into the room.
Immediately I was blinded by spotlights, shining down on to the small 20-foot wide stage we now found ourselves on. I looked out towards the shapes of seating underneath the lighting, and I could make out the silhouettes of two figures sitting next to each other. While I could not make out their identity, I knew who they were – and I could feel their attentive gaze on both of us.
Everything I could see past the spotlights in this room and stage area, was painted or coloured black – except positioned in the center-front of the stage, there was a white, long, opened sided couch. This was placed here to assist with the carnal aspects of what was to come.
It was strange because neither of us had discussed what exactly we were going to do for them, but T immediately took control of our predicament and I followed his actions. I always forget that before he got into the restaurant industry, T had done some training and experience as a dancer, so he seemed to have a routine in his mind which I then tried my best to mimic. It also soon became apparent to me, judging from his confidence, that T had probably performed something similar to what was happening now, before, if not for them, then for someone else.
I let him guide and lead me along through what became a silent dance between us. There was no music to keep us in time, but I had enough musical training from my school days and home life that we established a rhythm between us as we moved about the stage floor. I found the naked and flowing freedom from our movement enthralling, arousing, and almost like a mental drug, despite the coldness of the basement we were in. I am not one for being seen completely naked, but at this moment I absolutely enjoyed the feel of the room air rushing around my cock and the vulnerability of now being exposed, to someone unseen.
At some point as we moved closer and wrapped and slithered our arms around each other, we started to slowly apply the body oil to ourselves and to each other.
When I wasn’t focused on what T was doing, or taking in the arousal of the moment, I would periodically look out into the blinding white spotlights and try to look through them and seek out the two pairs of eyes that we both knew were fixed on us. And while inside, I actually felt calm and quite happy, I decided to play up the hard-to-get goth-fag from the cocktail party where I had met them, and tried to maintain a solemn, sad, and frowned expression on my face as I also let my face dance to our mutual gyrations and groping, as he began to tug on my cock, and I returned his tugs with my own, before shifting into a more feminine reaction when T began to assume more of the lead role in our strange dance routine that we were somehow executing.
At one point, with T behind me and his arms now sliding around and across my torso as if he was some sort of octopus or one of those multi-armed Indian dancers, I leaned my head back and up towards his head, and kissed him on his lips – at which I could hear Mrs. Moneybags let out a loud sigh of approval, perhaps her own arousal too, followed by ‘oh, that is so beautiful…’
Now both of us drenched from neck to toe in body oil, T then led me over to the white couch in the middle of the stage, which up to this point we had ignored and simply worked our movement around.
I was not sure what to do, so I crawled on to it and its hard pleather or vinyl material, and then laid on my back. T climbed on top of me, reversed himself around, and we began to 69 each other – this being the first, and only time, that T had ever put my penis into his mouth. I could tell that sucking cock was not his thing, but he did so for appearance sake tonight. For once in the evening, he followed my lead, as I worked and danced my tongue around his cock, he imitated the same moves on mine.
After some time spent locked in our 69, we then stopped and repositioned ourselves on the floor, as both of us were now so horny we wanted to move our show to the next level.
I got down on my hands and knees, and then splayed my arms out so my face was on the ground, looking to my right and out from the stage at the unseen couple. My ass was now up and exposed for T to insert himself into me. Feeling his firm penis inside of me, it felt like old times between us once again, and I enjoyed him fucking me for as long as I could keep him engaged and attached to me as possible. As he fucked me, I played up the faces of sexual pleasure, closing my eyes and puckering my lips or forcing an open mouth to express my enjoyment, imitating the many women I had seen in porn movies I had watched.
He fucked me for how long, I do not know. I did not want it to end – but at some point it would have to, and T pulled out of me and as my asshole closed back up and I could feel the cold draft of air on my backside, I knew I probably would never have his cock inside me again.
But we still had one last act we had to play out in our sex show.
We returned to the white couch, which was just long enough for both of us to kneel out on. Before positioning ourselves, with our ass-cheeks facing each other, we both fingered our assholes with oil – although mine was still lubed up well from my recent fucking. I tried to reach and help finger T’s asshole with my oily fingers, but his hand pushed mine away from his.
We then got on the couch, wiggled ourselves back with enough space between us to move our asses back and forth but still manage to keep the dildo wedged between us. T had stuck it in him first, and when I could feel the rubber baton flopping up against my backside, I grabbed it and slid it inside of me.
After a few seconds to gauge how well it was positioned between us, we both started to slowly move our asses in a back-and-forth pumping motion. Occasionally I could hear T quietly grunt in pain, as I knew his body was just not used to be violated in that opening.
Much like our silent dance before, and our 69 embrace, I lost track of the passage of time while we mutually fucked the dildo between us – but at some point I looked out to my right, into the direction of the bright lights, only to notice that Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags had gotten up out of their chairs and were now standing right at the edge of the stage to observe us closer.
They were holding wine glasses, and every so often they would slip from their red wine as nonchalantly and casual as if they were watching a movie or a television program.
By now, both T and I were showing signs of both nearing our final peak of arousal – we had tried our best to hold back our loads inside us, which was getting harder and harder to delay the inevitable – as well as nearing a point of exhaustion from what we later guessed was maybe as much as two hours of non-stop action from our show.
I decided that I had had enough, and would just work to get my orgasm over and be done, with the hopes that I could at least give off a decent cum shower to close out my role in this two-fag show. I started to act up my arousal audibly, so that T could hear that I was now nearing my finishing point. I was hoping he would take the hint and we could at least try to time ourselves at the same time for maximum visual effect.
I looked around and now saw that Mrs. Moneybags had sensed, too, what was soon coming, and she was now standing as close up to me as possible, a couple feet away at the stage edge right in front of my line of sight forward. I could smell her perfume and hear her breathe. I looked at her, into her eyes and began to display in my face the approach of the imminent orgasm. I have always been someone loud when I came, so I played it up for her as I gave off my sissy moans.
And then, my penis could hold back no longer and exploded – its white cream streaming out all over the couch and on my legs. A few seconds later, T blew his load and our rhythmic motions with the dildo slowed down and ceased, with the now slick and gooey dildo springing its escape from our asses and down on the floor in a thud.
While all this was happening, I maintained my gaze on Mrs. Moneybags and she remained transfixed on my eyes. It was like we were hypnotized by each other, or trying to hypnotize each other, in some sort of mutual, but distant sexual trance that we shared. As my heart rate slowed down to its normal level, I continued to look at her – it was like neither of us wanted to break the connection between us.
She then made the first move afterwards, as both T and I found our bodies were too stiff now to move from our still maintained ass to ass position, as the basement cold began to hit our naked, sweaty bodies.
Mrs. Moneybags leaned over to me, with her wine glass in hand, and slid it under my cum-dripping penis. Her shoulder and her hair brushed gently on my face, and she collected up what ooze that was still clinging to me, before then immersing my limp penis into her glass, coating it in wine. When she removed it a few seconds later, I could feel one of her fingers sliding along my penis, to wipe off its remaining jizz into her glass. It was a tingling, electric sensation – as she was now subtly initiating our first physical, sexual contact.
She then stood back upright, swirled her wine glass around with the random splatters of my cum floating about in it, before she then downed its contents in one long continuous gulp. When her glass was emptied, she made a point of tipping it at me, showing its emptiness, winked, and gave me a subtle, wide thin smile of acknowledgement and appreciation for what had just happened on stage tonight.
She then said to me, quietly in my ear so only I could hear, ‘Little Faggot Boy, make your way to my room tonight please’.
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Posted on : Apr 2, 2022
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