something he wanted to try with me, especially the depravity of it. I paused and gently rubbed the head of his cock with a wet finger. “Cole, if you just took me there you know I would do it.” I licked him slowly, up the length of his shaft. “You know, I’d do anything for you.”

“I know that,” he whispered, touching my face. His expression hardened. “But you’re going to tell me when you’re ready.”

I sunk down on his cock with enthusiasm and by doing so let him know that I was ready to swallow his second load of the evening.

I was reluctant about this place he called the Power Lounge. I was still convinced I was at least bisexual and hanging out in a gay sex club seemed more than a bit extreme to me even if I was more than a little curious and at times extremely turned on by ‘performing’ for other men. And even though I hadn’t admitted it, I thrived on fantasies involving the kind of sex I’d had with Cole and Matt, myself in the middle of two large cocks. It had become my standard fare for jerking off in the shower. I knew that I wanted to experience it again—soon.

I looked up the club on the Internet and decided to scope it out on my own. It was a Thursday night and as I paid the cover and entered the club I got a thrill, feeling like I was revealing a part of my sexuality I usually kept secreted.

As I walked in and passed a notice that listed the rules I saw that many of the men were already checking me out; new kid on the block I figured.

I went over to the bar and decided to order a drink. I needed to calm down. “What would you like?” a bartender in a leather harness asked me.

“Corona,” I said.

“Lime?”

“Yes.”

He returned a moment later with my beer and as I offered to pay he said, “It’s covered.” He gestured toward the end of the bar and a good looking, obviously gay BSDM type was peering over a pair of dark sunglasses at me.

I nodded and turned around to look over the room. There were men making out and a few stroking each other through their pants, but there was nothing over the top going on. I noticed the man that had bought my drink coming my way.

“You’re new?” he said.

“Yes.” I paused and looked at him. “Hey, thanks for the beer,” I added.

“No problem. I’m an owner.”

I realized then that he wasn’t trying to pick me up and I appreciated that. “Hey, my. . .” I hesitated. “My man wants to bring me to this place, so I’m, uh . . .”

“Come on, let me show you around. I’m Gary.”

I introduced myself, we shook hands and he led me toward the back. “This is the more private area. Where the real things go on. No alcohol is permitted beyond this point. And just remember—you’re safe here. You can go as far as you want and at any time you want it to stop, just say ‘Stop.’ If, for some reason,” he turned and smiled, “you can’t speak hold your open hand up and all parties are required to obey your wishes. One time.” He held up one finger. “Someone fails to obey one time and they’re 86’ed.