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The need for the ultimate depravity.

I allow myself to become the ultimate gay slut.

My experience with gay sex had only just begun. I was thirty-six when Diane arranged for my first experience with Jim, Allan and herself, recounted in a previous story. Prior to that occasion, I do not believe that the thought that I might enjoy sex with other men, had ever entered my mind.

I was not repulsed by the idea - it's just that the idea had never even been contemplated. The episode that Diane had arranged, had me as an accomplice, merely because I felt obliged to grant Diane's wish to fulfil her fantasy, since she had so magnificently fulfilled mine.

I had not known what to expect, and I was very pleasantly surprised at how beautiful it felt to fondle, and arouse, a penis other than my own. Perhaps it was the obvious and unrestrained feedback a penis gave to my attention, somewhat more direct and timely than I had received from years of pandering to female genitalia.

Then came the absolute pleasure of taking an eager, responsive and juicy cock into my mouth. This was similar in some ways, but also quite different to, the encouragement I had often felt, pleasuring a woman with my mouth. Not that it would replace heterosexual enjoyment, but yield another dimension to sexual pleasure.

With respect to fucking, even though my arse was technically no longer virginal, it had been penetrated while I had been engaged in heterosexual fucking, and so my mind had been unable to separately distinguish how I felt about having a penis inside me. With respect to my experience at the pool party with our black American friends, my enjoyment was not so much a result of homosexual proclivity, as it was the humiliation of seeing Diane abandoning herself to their sexual urges, and the degradation of wanting to experience similar treatment myself. This was the first time I was fully cognisant about how much reward I got from being publicly shamed, sexually.

Diane had seen better prospects getting married to the guy who had chased her from England, and so our relationship was over. I was not disheartened. I had entered into the relationship with the promise of greater sexual experience and had achieved such beyond expectation.

I was yet to become My Lady's "sweetie", and so life was temporarily back to normal, until a phone-call at the office from Jim, the avowed homosexual of the Jim/Allan partnership, allowed me to contemplate further expansion of my sexual inventory. Jim was about ten years younger than me, around Diane's age, and admittedly the type of gay man who revels in the potential promiscuity within that lifestyle, rather than the one-on-one loving variety.

We met for coffee. We discussed Diane's penchant for exhibitionism. and then my own. He was aware that Diane had set me up, as a birthday gift, for me to be naked with some of her girlfriends, and then in mixed company. I admitted that, as much as I got off being naked and vulnerable in female company, the pleasure compounded when I had a mixed audience, and my submissiveness even more obvious. 

"What about an all-male audience?" Jim posed the question mischievously, but fully expecting a reply.

Not for one moment did I consider rejecting the proposal out-of-hand. His parents were again travelling overseas, so their Northern Beaches home was available for partying. His idea was to have a pool party with some of his gay friends, at which party I would be the only one naked, at least for the first hour or two.

"Who knows where this would lead?"

I could be as vulnerable, and submissive, as the mood took me. 

Although I had, on that one occasion, fondled and sucked his cock, and allowed him entry to my "man pussy" (as he called it), he knew that this had been my first time. My relationship with Diane indicated that I was not gay. My reputation was also quite the opposite. 

"Are all your mates gay?" I innocently asked. 

"Not entirely", was his response. "Most are, but some enjoy both sexes, and a few just enjoy communal nakedness."

"How old?" I asked.

"About my age - mid-twenties. A couple younger, nineteen or twenty."

I knew I was hooked. So did he, but we kept up the pretence of serious consideration. Eventually, arrangements were made.

As the day approached, I was overcome with expectation - both positive and negative. Just being the only one naked was very alluring. But where could things lead? An entirely new experience, not knowing my own limits, let alone those of his mates. How vulnerable could I possibly be? And what of my reputation if things got out of hand?

The more this worried me, the more attractive the prospects became. Daydreaming alone in the office as the day approached, I found myself fully aroused, pre-cum seeping into my underpants, and beyond. The stain on my trousers was obvious so that I needed to stay seated for the rest of the day.

My preparation for the afternoon was meticulous. No body hair was spared. No trace of unwanted material remained in my anal passage. My nails were clipped, fingers and toes. My teeth were pearly white. I had bathed in sumptuous bubbles, and smelled like a garden.

I knew there would be no going back. I expected extremes and had no idea of what this would involve. But what I did know was that I wanted to be their sexual plaything. No holds barred.

The parking spot in the driveway had been reserved for my exclusive use. Jim opened the front door and showed me to a bedroom where I undressed. The party was outside, around the pool, and I could tell by the noise, that it was quite a crowd, and probably encouraged by alcohol, or maybe something heavier. Jim took me outside, introduced me as "tonight's entertainment".

Such an introduction did nothing to alleviate my apprehension. I saw twenty, maybe thirty, young athletic men. Some were in shorts and tee-shirts, others in swimming costumes, a couple in slacks and shirt.They all looked fresh, clean-cut, boisterous, tanned and healthy. A couple I recognised from the party at the same place when Diane was gang-banged. And in the time it had taken to move from the bedroom to the pool, I had already acquired my most prominent erection. My embarrassment was complete.

For the next hour or so, Jim monitored me around, group to group. I was treated with condescension on occasion, sometimes worse. No-one actually disparaged me, but I was under no illusion as to my status. I was there for one thing only - their pleasure. It was OK to grab my cock, cradle my balls, finger my anus, pinch my nipples, slap my bottom.

The nicer ones complimented some aspect of my body, or encouraged me with promises of getting to know me better. Several helped themselves to some of my pre-cum, either tasting it themselves or allowing me the pleasure.

At some stage, I was invited to bend over an outdoor chair, spread my cheeks and be examined by a few. They spoke to each other about what they saw, rarely to me. I was merely being humiliated, and my obedience, or submissiveness, being tested. 

Then came the spanking. Firstly with hands, then belts. Most slaps were accompanied with commentary - words aimed at belittling me. I encouraged them with cries that I deserved spanking because I was a whore, that I wanted it harder, that it was good, and I wanted it more. I was not pretending. At some stage, I realised Jim had a movie camera. It was not focused on my face, but where the pain was being administered. I hoped he would get my face at some time to capture its enjoyment.

I was led into the pool. For a few moments, it stung my arse. After a while, others entered the pool, while others sat on the edges. Jim manoeuvred me between a pair of legs, whose owner ordered me to take out his cock. I reached up, pulled his costume down enough to allow me to release his slack penis, which I wantonly devoured, coaxing it to erection.

He was holding my head into his cock, pushing it strongly into my mouth, as I choked on it. I could sense that he was about to erupt, so I backed off a little and took his semen, some into my mouth, the rest over my face, so that those close by could see. I helped the residue from my face into my mouth with my fingers, sucking them eagerly, and swallowed the remnants with pleasure. 

My sluttish abandonment was appreciated by my audience with loud cheering, as I positioned myself in front of the next guy, and without invitation, took out his cock, and drained it. How many did I empty? Ten or so, I guess, but who's counting?

I loved the sensation of a cock erupting in my mouth. It was a just reward for a job well done. But even better was the appreciation of the audience. I had hoped that things would degenerate this way, but it was becoming apparent that my friends were also getting more than they had expected.

I wanted to suck every cock dry, but a new game was introduced. I was hauled from the pool, and taken to the outdoor shower, where I was told to sit and masturbate. I found myself surrounded by five or six guys, who each took out his cock, and pissed on me. I enjoyed the taste of the warm, salty piss, and revelled in the degradation that accompanied my enjoyment.

To sink even lower, I called out for replacements when the initial team had finished. I was a pathetic, worthless, shameless and wanton toilet! And I loved it! Now at the peak of depravity, I was recklessly attacking my cock, until the convulsions came, and I exploded with abandon, cheered on and encouraged by the crowd that seemed to have completely lost its sense of superiority, and had acquired some of my own immoderation

I showered away the piss, and my own semen, and rejoined the mob, many of whom were now undressed and engaged in their own private couplings. Jim was still around, but he was tendering to his own needs, while I chatted, now quite warmly, with some of his friends.

For the first time that night, people were interested in my feelings, desires, fantasies. After an hour or so, Jim reappeared at my side, and called his friends to attention.

"Who now wants to fuck this adorable slave?" he shouted. "Are you up for a thorough fucking?" he asked me, as many of his friends showed enthusiasm for taking up his offer.

A low, backless settee was wheeled into place, on which I was invited to kneel low, ankles strapped wide apart, to the legs of the settee, and I was handcuffed behind my back. Another strap was tied behind my knees to meet under the settee, and my neck was given limited movement by another restraint.

I could think of no more vulnerable position, and excitement was returning to my penis. This anus, barely used sexually during my thirty-six years, was now open for anyone who cared to participate. I impatiently allowed my hole to be anointed with some helpful lubrication, and the fucking got underway.

My mouth and anus were both at a convenient level for intrusion, and my knees were reasonably comfortable on the mattress of the settee. As stated earlier, my previous experiences of being fucked had suffered distractions, and so I had missed some of the intricacies. I was excited by the audience, and to an extent overcome by feelings of vulnerability and abject depravity, but I was still able to concentrate on the detail of what was happening. 

The first cock was the hardest. It hovered around my hole, feeling for an opening, lending it a little more lubrication. It pushed in a little way, meeting resistance, as I wondered if I could accept its full length. It rested there a while, as I felt the resistance subside a little, and allow a little more penetration.

Then I gratefully thought I had accepted the full head, and relaxed even more, thereby allowing a gentle thrust to find its way completely home. Was this the way a pussy feels? The channel inside now made the visitor welcome, sucking it in, worming around to feel its complete presence. My stomach felt as if it had just finished a full meal.

The visitor, feeling more at home, began to thrust gently, each time seeming to push further inwards. The thrusting picked up steam. Some message was being conveyed to the brain that the visitor was getting more and more urgent until there was a feeling of imminent explosion. The anticipation of eruption was delicious. Could I really feel the semen gushing inside me, or did I just know it was?

Either way, I felt fulfilment, in more ways than one. The semen dripped down my arse onto my feet as the first visitor departed. I had often wondered what it was like to be fucked. Now I could match experiences. There was a congruency. My mind was able to link the two.

I was still luxuriating in the aftermath of my first visitor, when the second knocked on my door. I knew what to expect, but this visitor was much easier to accommodate, given the added lubrication, and the passage the first visitor had left. This time I felt myself backing onto the cock thrusting inside me, and with each new cock, this contribution to the action became greater. Eventually, my arse was putting out the welcome mat, even before there was a knock on the door.

From time to time a cock would introduce itself to my mouth and was accepted enthusiastically. Occasionally, its smell would indicate to me that it had already used the back door. Perhaps even the taste! Normally the thought of accepting such a soiled guest would have been a turnoff.

But when it took place in this abandoned scenario, unable to put up any boundaries, I attacked it with even more vigour. The fact that I gave each cock a nibble, and if encouraged, a full-on bite, was soon relayed to the crowd such that some came back for a second helping. On occasion, a semi-slack cock visited my face and slapped it. All good!

How many cocks entered my arse? How many my mouth? I have no idea, I lost count. I did not want to stop. I have heard that one's anus gets very sore. Not mine. Not until the next day. My back started to ache, given my position and constant thrusting. Eventually, I called for a break, while promising to accept visitors in a less stressed position.

My offer accepted, I was able to lie on my back, and be more comfortable. The more eager guests would have me lie on the ground, shoulders to the settee, and lift my back against the settee, taking me downwards from above. Very lustful, but of no help to a tired and sore back.

I was not the one to call it a day! A veritable orgy had begun all around me, and I think I had exhausted those not participating in it. Anyway, Jim thought I deserved a rest, offered me a beer, and we sat at a table next to the pool, going back over the evening. I discovered that I had now been there for over six hours, most of the time connected to someone else's cock, one way or another.

We agreed that the occasion had exceeded all our expectations. It was an experience of the ages for me. This homosexual promiscuous lifestyle appealed to me enormously, and I might have surrendered to it completely, but for several factors.

I was married with two children, each of whom I loved dearly. I baulked at doing anything to jeopardise this.

I was a prominent businessman, which I wanted to continue, because of the monetary rewards, and the ego satisfaction.

I had a network of friends, most of whom knew I was somewhat of a philanderer, but none of whom suspected my total lack of sexual boundaries. I did not wish to lose them.

I still enjoyed heterosexual sex and the constant search for it.

Even so, I might still have succumbed, had it not been the fact that the AIDS epidemic was just around the corner, and such rampant depravity was not worth a painful, tedious and debilitating death.

My Lady later allowed me the occasional gay experience, especially at the farewell at her country home, where somehow I managed to entertain two cocks simultaneously in that now quite experienced hole of mine. But I do not think that the AIDS epidemic had arrived by that time.

And so the wonders of sex with guys has eluded me for decades. Much is the pity, but I console myself with the knowledge that I can still enjoy submissiveness, exhibitionism, and being humiliated.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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