Dillon Delaune

Gay Boy University

As we ascended the stairs, a man wearing a New York Yankees hat nodded to us. We arrived at the fourth floor and were ushered into the reception area. We were given  a coat hanger on which to put all of our clothes. There was the option to wear a jockstrap inside, but we declined. 

We had arrived a bit early to the party, and most of the men there were still awkwardly standing around in different dark corners. I opted first to have a drink, which was a Red 40-dyed punch served out of an opaque plastic bucket. The bar area was in the front, the first stop past the coat check.  

Xavier talked all day about attending the party, and I really tried to convince him that it wasn’t a good idea. He was currently using a flip phone he bought from the AT&T store attempting maybe his third or fourth detox from technology. The message from the party host, which required a significant amount of scrolling to read, said “(GBU MIDTOWN) SAT 9/16, 10p-6am. 540 W. 39 St. 4th Fl. 250+ sexy young guys. Naked or Jock! Open Bar! DJ: Bare Naked! Bring HOT buds! $35 cash STOP to end.”

He called me four times that day about the text he received. I bought tickets for us to go clubbing with my friends that night which briefly convinced him not to go, but as soon as we arrived and started drinking, he started talking about going to the sex party in midtown. Eventually, I gave in and said go but I’m coming with you. I couldn’t bear the thought of him getting fucked in a dark room by dozens of random men and not being there. At least if it was going to happen I could ensure he wasn’t in danger. 

As more people arrived, the room began to warm from the heat of naked men. The space was divided into four sections. One section was a hallway that led back to the bar area lit with a yellow-hued incandescent light bulb. From that hallway, there were two openings. One led to a dimly lit room with a waterbed in the middle. The bed was bare except for a small twink, maybe five foot two inches, laid down with his ass up. A line of larger, muscular men was forming waiting for their turn to fuck the kid on the bed. From that room, there was another hallway, this one much darker than the first. There were two benches. On one sat a group of friends who were chatting. They seemed rather nervous, their hands covering their crotches. The last room was the darkest, lit only by a small strip of red LED lights pasted on the floor in the very back of the room.

On one wall was a cushioned bench, lined with a row of three men sitting on the bench each sucking the cock of a different man standing in front of them. On the wall that continued on from the dimly lit hallway was a large container stuck to the wall with two compartments. One compartment contained packets of lube and the other contained cheap condoms wrapped in blue with NYC printed on them. In the corner of the room next to the container was a currently unoccupied sex swing. There was an abyss in the back of the room with some people standing awkwardly and others making out. The last wall that connected to the more brightly lit hallway leading back to the bar had a small wooden bench. One smaller man was on the bench with his ass up while another man only a bit larger than him was starting the process of fisting, four fingers inside the asshole. 

Xavier and I stood near the swing, next to the container of condoms, silently looking around the room. I was hoping that maybe we would start making out, but he went to the dark abyss in the back of the room and grabbed another man’s shoulders. They started to make out. 

Immediately, I left the backroom through the dark hallway and into the room with the water bed. Another boy had laid down on the waterbed and two men were fucking him simultaneously while the original twink on the bed still laid ass up, his asshole so wide a golf ball could easily fit through. 

I went to the bar and asked the bartender for one of the red kool-aid drinks. I chugged and asked him to refill my cup. I chugged a second one, went into the bathroom, and vomited. To my surprise, there was toothpaste in the bathroom but not toothbrushes. I emptied a healthy amount of toothpaste onto my finger and scrubbed my mouth with my finger until my gums bled, and then I spit the mixture of blood and toothpaste into the toilet. I wiped my mouth clean with toilet paper and sat on the ground of the bathroom. 

The knob on the bathroom door started to turn, and I realized it wasn’t locked. A muscular man who must have weighed 75 or 80 pounds more than me walked in. He walked right up to me on the ground, grabbed my hair, and titled my head upward to open my jaw. He stuck his dick in my mouth. I gagged, but then I started sucking. As I moved my head in circular motion up and down the man’s hairy, thick cock, my mind raced with what was happening outside the bathroom. I realized that Xavier was still out there, so I pushed the man back by his thighs and left the bathroom. 

At the bar, I asked for another drink. I quickly drank that and then asked for a shot. It was Skol Vodka. Afterwards, I started chatting up the bartender and asking how he got into pouring drinks at a sex party, so he told me about his fetish, piss. He described how it was comforting to him. How he enjoyed the warm feeling in his throat and its acidic aftertaste. He said he also enjoyed feeling like a disposal for the man he was with. He enjoyed being used. 

I told him I have never tried anything involving piss, and he asked if I would like to. I thought this would probably be my only chance, so I obliged. He motioned for me to come behind the bar, and he bent down on his knees, cocked his head back, and opened his mouth. I was nervous at first. For about thirty seconds I just stood there awkwardly laughing, but then the mysterious bucket drink and shots of cheap vodka came, started streaming into his mouth. He was gulping.

In the middle of my stream, Xavier had walked into the room. He stood watching as I pissed into the bartender’s mouth, waiting for me to finish. I hadn’t noticed him as I was enthralled by giving a golden shower to a man who just five minutes before had been feeding me shots of vodka. 

When I was finished, I turned and saw him watching me. I left from behind the bar and went around to the other side. The first thing I noticed was his throbbing cock staring right at me. He started talking, but I didn’t hear him. My mind was fuzzy, staring at his cock and looking at the other person he was standing with. I wanted Xavier so badly. I wanted his cock staring at me, and I wanted him to want me. I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, so while he was talking to me, I turned around and went back through the hallway, past the waterbed room and into the dark room in the back.

I sat on the small, hard bench and put my ass in the air. A very muscular man came behind me and asked if he could fuck me. I said yes. He asked if he needed to use a condom. I said no. I felt him put his tongue on my asshole, spitting on it, preparing it for his cock to go inside. I could feel his tongue move in a figure eight, working its way into my hole and teasing me. I didn’t want to get fucked, but I wanted to take my mind off Xavier and the image of his cock staring directly into my eyes. As the man inserted his cock into my ass, I closed my eyes and imagined it was Xavier. 

After about ten minutes of fucking, I felt the man pull out his cock and explode warm cum onto my back. He licked it off, and I felt his tongue run up and down my spine, the rough palate contrasting from the smooth liquid it lapped up. He walked away, and I got up, searching for someone else to fill my unachievable desire. 

I walked into the room with the waterbed. The train running on the two twinks had dissipated, and now only one man getting his cock sucked sat on the bed while a much larger man on his knees took in its full length. I went into the darker hallway and sat on one of the two cushioned benches. My mind was still on Xavier. I wondered where he was, if he was still with that other boy with whom he had appeared out of the party. I wanted to leave with him, get out of this party, and lay in bed with him. 

A muscular, rather nerdy looking man walked up to me and started sucking my cock. He was rough, using his teeth too much, but I enjoyed his biting as it distracted me from the incessant thoughts of Xavier in my head. While he sucked, I looked around the party and noticed that it was starting to die down. I must have been there for four hours which would make the time around 5 AM. I pulled the nerdy man by his hair and tilted his face towards mine. I asked if he wanted to get a drink. He said yes. 

He walked into the bar area and Xavier was standing there with the small, though not much smaller than Xavier, twink he was with before. I was pleased to have someone with me this time, I thought that would make him more jealous than pissing in someone’s mouth. We all started discussing the party and what to do next. 

We decided that it was time to leave the party, as it seemed it had cleared. All four of us walked into the coat check room and gave the attendant the number assigned to our clothes. We finished dressing ourselves and descended the stairs onto 39th street. We stood in a group, and I pulled out a cigarette from my coat pocket and lit it. The temperature had dropped significantly since we arrived, and it was the beginning of a crisp December morning in New York. 

Xavier turned to me and said that the small twink he was with had rented a hotel room across the street, and they were going there. I was not invited. Apparently, they had hooked up in the past and were going to continue their fucking in the room which left me with the nerdy man. I was devastated. I had imagined that at least after the party, we would go home together and sleep in the same bed. We would be comforted by the warmth of familiarity. I would feel whole knowing that he was sleeping next to me. Instead, I began to argue with the nerdy man, who refused to come to my apartment, even though it was 45 minutes closer than his, just 20 blocks away in East Village. His apartment was deep in Brooklyn, past Prospect Park. 

Because I refused to allow Xavier to see me go home alone while he was with another man, I agreed to go to the nerdy man’s apartment in deep Brooklyn. We argued again when he wanted to take the train, but I called a taxi. As we rode to his apartment, I watched the sun rise, tears streaming down my face, illuminating the New York skyline with the promise of another day. 


Dillon Delaune is a writer who who submitted this piece with a VPN. He is currently at large for sodomy somewhere in Northern Africa.

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