Arrival of the Afterparty

He went out tonight. He went to a club playing loud music and bright flashing lights, a lot of shirtless guys dancing, or maybe he went a little more simple and stopped at a dive bar with a lot of bikers playing pool. He’s been gone for maybe an hour, maybe more, you aren’t quite sure. Time isn’t moving the same as usual.

Because you?

You are blindfolded. You can’t see the clock on the tableside, you can’t see anything except the darkness that encompasses your eyes when you try to blink.

You aren’t completely without your senses. No, in fact, your other senses are a little more heightened.

You can smell the faded detergent on the sheets, the hints of marijuana he smoked before going out.

You can hear his roommate playing video games across the hallway.

You can taste the used jockstrap, at least a week old with just a hint of dried piss, stuffed in your mouth.

You can feel the straps around your ankles, holding you firm to the bed no matter how hard you might tug at them. Your right wrist binds you tight. Only your left arm is loose enough to barely scratch your nose. Barely.

He won’t come home until he’s ready. He won’t come home until he’s recruited the right amount of guys, the guys lucky enough to get his invite home.

You’re okay until then. It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t. You don’t have a choice.

You can smell his pile of dirty clothes in the corner, overdue to be washed.

You hear his roommate open the door, look in on you, before pissing long and hard in the toilet. He doesn’t flush.

The jockstrap gets more flavorful with every passing hour soaking in your spit. It marinates your tongue.

You can feel the cock cage grow tighter with anticipation.

How many guys did he bring home last time? You remember a lot of voices, a lot of cocks, at one point you had one in your mouth and two in your ass. You think, maybe, you took at least eleven loads. Some of them may have been from the same guys. You will never know. You were never meant to know.

You don’t keep track; too easy to lose count. He will let you know when you are done. He will be the last to use you.

The blindfold will never come off. The cage will never come off.

But when he arrives and brings his new friends, and he will have new friends, you will get a different set of senses.

You will smell each of their unique musks mingling with their dissipating colognes.

You will hear them cheer each other on. You will hear them moan and grunt. You will hear them ask to turn you over and slap your ass.

You will taste the drinks on their tongues, their spit on your face. You will taste their precum.

You will feel the pressure of their bodies, the grind of their body hair against your skin. You will feel their hands gripping you, groping you, bellies pressing. You will feel their teeth on your neck, their breath against your ear. You will feel every single guy as they take their turn thrusting into you. You will feel them connect their hips to your cheeks. You will feel their balls tremble and quake as one at a time they unload into you. Blowing every sweet ounce of cum inside you because it is what they have waited for all night.

He's out recruiting guys.

You have to wait. Maybe… a couple more hours?