Nightclubbing, Pt II (Super Bowl Party)

Read Pt I here 

“Anyone need another round?” Hassan asks our crew. They’re all our bros and we’re chilled out, watching the Super Bowl at Antony’s apartment. He’s got this sweet setup with a huge TV and two couches.

“You know it,” they say as Hassan gets up and heads toward the kitchen. He stops and looks at me.

“Bro, come help me grab these,” he says, and you would never know what he’s intending, but I do. That’s the thing. Our bros, they’re all straight. None of em know what Hassan and I get up to when we’re alone and that’s how we like it.

“None of their business, bro,” Hassan said to me once when I wondered if we were being too secretive. “It’s our thing, not theirs.” 

Antony watches as I get up and follow Hassan into the kitchen. “Yeah, Michael,” he says to me. “Grab us beer like a good little bitch.” 

“Fuck you,” I say and kick him in the leg as I pass. Antony smiles up at me. It’s our rapport - he’s my bro, he don’t mean anything by it. But sometimes I wonder how much he knows about Hassan and me. He and Hassan go way back. 

Antony’s place is all open, so the kitchen is only separated from the living room by a long counter, and I follow Hassan around that to the fridge. All our bros have their backs turned toward us, except for Antony who can see us if he looks to the side. Hassan puts his hand on the fridge and looks at me. I know that look, and I’m prepared. I always am, per his instructions. My hole is always shaved and clean. I never wear underwear, or if I do it has to be a jockstrap. Today I’ve just got my sweats on. Easy access.

Hassan opens the fridge and starts taking out bottles of beer. “One for Tony, one for Sa’id,” he says quietly, setting the bottles on the counter. With his other hand he grabs my ass through my sweatpants. Then he slides his hand under my shirt and down my back, underneath my sweatpants. “Four, five…is that it?” Hassan says, his eyes on the beer but his finger zeroing in on my hole. He finds it and pushes inside. I melt a little. It’s always something, when Hassan reminds me that my ass is his. 

“I own this hole,” he’ll say to me when we’re alone. “It’s mine to fuck, bro. Fuck and cum in. Any time I want. You understand?”

“Yeah bro, I do,” I’ll say.

“That’s my bro,” he’ll say. 

“So six?” Hassan says to the guys. All while pumping his finger in and out of my hole. I brace myself against the counter. If any of them turned around, if Antony turned his head, they would see my flushed face. Maybe they’d see Hassan’s hand, moving under my sweatpants, or see the half-hard-ons both of us are throwing in our sweats. But none of them do.

“Geez, fucker, just bring them all - you know we’re gonna drink em,” Antony says, face glued to the screen. 

Hassan takes out two more bottles. The game comes back on. He takes his finger out of me and shuts the fridge. Then he picks up one of the beers and twists off the top. He runs the top of the bare bottle down the small of my back. The cold glass makes me want to twist away but I try and stay steady as he slides the neck of the bottle down my smooth ass crack and pushes it against my hole.

“Alright, bro,” he says to me as he pushes the bottle inside of me. The cold is bracing. My hole resists the hard glass rim at first but then my ass accepts it and it pops inside. “Grab these, would ya?” Hassan says, and pushes the entire neck of the bottle inside my ass. 

“Y-yeah, bro,” I say, losing my composure as the bottle stretches me out. Hassan pumps it once, twice. 

“That’s my bro,” Hassan says, smiling at me as he slides the bottle out and pulls my sweatpants back up over my butt. He puts the bottle that’s just been in my ass to his lips and slides his tongue inside the mouth of it. He swirls his tongue around the rim before he tips back the bottle and takes a gulp. Winks at me. Smiles.

I’m walking back to the crew with a hard-on in my sweats but nobody notices cause we’re passing out beer. I settle back in the sofa between Sa’id and Chuck. Hassan winks at me again from his spot in the easy chair. I feel my dick leak precum. 

The game is good, we’re all getting amped. The commercials come on, everyone’s excited to watch them. The pizza shows up and we tear into it. Hassan gets up a little later and gives me the look as he heads down the hall to the bathroom. I get up, thinking I’ll grab another beer if anyone asks what I’m doing, but nobody does. I peek around the hall and Hassan is there, sweatpants around his thick, hairy thighs, stroking his fat hard-on. 

He grabs my ass through my sweats, digs his fingers between my cheeks. He yanks the sweatpants down and I brace myself against the wall. We’re quiet, listening for any movement from the living room but it’s just the sound of the commercials and our bros, laughing and commenting on them.

Hassan spits in his palm, gets his cock wet. I brace myself against the wall as he presses his cock against my hole and pushes it in with one stroke. Fuck! I have to bite my fist to keep from calling out. It hurts, but it’s good. 

“Bro, your hole was made to take my cock,” Hassan has said to me. It feels like that, now. He’s throbbing in me and we hear the game come back on.

“Hey faggots, where the fuck are you?” Antony calls out. "Game's back on." Hassan pulls out of me. 

“I was taking a piss, fuckin chill,” Hassan says as he rounds the corner, boner tucked in the elastic of his sweats. I stand there in the hall, my hole feeling empty, my rod boned.

The game ends and we leave. We get back to the loft and Hassan is tearing off my clothes. He’s on fire. We’re both a little drunk.

“I’m in love with your cock, bro,” I say, and I mean it.

“Fuckin perfect for each other, bro,” Hassan says, gazing deep in my eyes as he pounds me on my back, as he cums inside me. I cum a moment later. Hassan scoops it up and feeds it to me, then we pass out in each other’s arms. 

In the morning he gets a text. “Antony,” he says.

“Did you guys ever do anything?” I say, feeling vulnerable to ask. On some level I’m attracted to Antony, too. He’s gorgeous. I know he has a huge dick.

“Why, bro?” Hassan says, handsome face coming close to mine. He wraps his hand around my neck and pecks me on the cheek. “You want to do something with him?”

“No…” I say, but Hassan just smiles. He knows me better than I know myself. “I mean, I would. Maybe. If you were cool with it.” 

“I don’t know if I want to loan you out, bro,” Hassan says, hand going under the sheets. He feels for my pleasantly sore and cum-slicked hole. “But he is our bro. Let me test the waters. Would you like that, bro? More straight dick for your hungry pussy?”

I just whimper as Hassan slides two fingers into me. Sometimes I can’t find the words. But I think: How did you do this to me? Turn me into a total slut for cock?

“Gonna let me blast my morning nut into you bro?” Hassan says, nodding yes at me before I can even respond. I nod back. “Yeah you are. That’s my bro,” he says. And as he flips me over and pounds me into oblivion, the questions I had put to myself moments earlier evaporate. Somehow, someway, my best bro has turned me out. It’s cool, though. I wouldn’t change anything.