Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Noah walked into the tavern, which obviously was a gay bar based on observation of the clientele. All eyes went to him when he entered. It wasn't every day that an angel walked into the Lion's Den. He recognized the guy who had sent him the proposition and the photo immediately. He was leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender. They stopped talking and watched, somewhat incredulously, Noah's approach to the bar.

"You came," the man, whose name had been given as John, said. He wasn't quite as good looking as his photo promised, but close enough for Noah. He mostly was just a hiking companion. The fuck buddy part of it would be OK as long as he was paying for all the provisions—and, Noah assumed, for the accommodations for the night.

"Yes, are you John?"

"I didn't think you'd come. You looked too good to be doing more than teasing. And the photo really was you, wasn't it? Not some movie star."

"Yes, it was me," Noah said, with a little laugh. "Hope you aren't disappointed."

"Now that depends. Let's get it straight right off the bat. You gonna take cock during this hike?"

"Yes, if you're going to provide all the provisions and will put me up tonight."

"You know I won't go all the way up to the trail without making sure you're what I want, don't you?"

"Yes, I can understand that."

"There are cabins out back here. I've rented one. Let's go."

"Don't we have time for a drink first?"

"Sure. Good idea. Maybe more than one. Wouldn't want you to get skittish."

It was far more than one drink, with more being pressed on Noah than John was having. John spent some of the time off on a cell phone.

At the door to the bar, Noah somewhat sluggishly pointed to his heavy backpack. "My stuff for the hike is here. Can you, like . . .?"

"Sure I'll carry it back to the cabin for you. Steady on there, sport." He was cupping and squeezing Noah's buttocks. Noah didn't resist.

"Where's your stuff?" Noah asked.

"In the truck." John vaguely gestured toward a line of trucks parked haphazardly in front of the cabins in back. A few of the trucks had guys sitting in the driver's seat and smoking, watching John guiding a weaving Noah toward the cabins, with slitted eyes and knowing smiles.

At the cabin door, John dropped the backpack, pulled Noah to him, and went into a tonsil-swabbing kiss. Noah didn't resist at the beginning and was fully invested in it at the conclusion. John laughed, lifted Noah's body with one arm under his pits and the other under his knees, said, "Might as well do this right," kicked open the cabin door, and propelled the two of them into a small room dominated by a double bed.

Another guy, Tom, kicked the door back shut from inside the room. A third guy, James, walked in from the bathroom. Both were hulking construction workers wearing just briefs and construction boots.

Noah was quickly stripped and John was fucking him missionary style at the end of the bed. Tom was on one side holding Noah's right leg up and out. James was on the other side holding up the left. Both had lost their briefs. Both had made Noah grasp and stroke their cocks to erection while John pounded his ass. Noah lay, inert, on the bed, his back arched, his head buzzing from the liquor, and not really minding the cock working inside him. John wasn't sheathed, which was a new sensation for Noah. Tom wasn't sheathed when he took his turn next. Nor James. Nor were Keith and Scott, the two guys who had been waiting outside in their trucks, when they entered the room. Keith and Scott had turned Noah and were taking him doggie style.

This wasn't lovemaking. This was pure animal-need fucking, throbbing cock sliding in channel, coaxing the walls to stretch for it, pistoning every faster, deeper, seeking release and, finding it, being replaced by yet another cock. This wasn't personal. Noah was just providing a sheath. He could endure this. Even as buzzed as he was, he was able to analyze it, to consider each cock separately, each man's technique even in a straightforward pumping like this. In the months since he'd become sexually active, he'd studied the cocking of each man who had taken him—the chamber choir bass, Mr. Connor, Mason. Not a long list. But each one different. If he concentrated on the differences of these cocks, he could get some enjoyment and instruction out of this gang bang. He'd wondered about the life of a male prostitute. He'd even wondered if it might be a life for him. There were so many gay men at the conservatory—and there was talk of only being able to make it in one of the music capitals of the world if you took tricks to augment your income. Could he? This would help him decide.

He wasn't fighting them. He was going with it. That probably was why they weren't manhandling him, beating him. It may help him to come out of this alive.

They came to the top of the order again, with John on his back on the bed and Noah on his back on top of John, with John fucking him from below. James appeared at Noah's head straddling his chest and offering his cock, which Noah dutifully took in his mouth. James also had a bottle of poppers, which he waved under Noah's nose, making Noah more mellow and relaxing his channel more.

"You'll want this," was all James said before Tom saddled up between Noah's and John's legs and began to work his cock into Noah's hole on top of John's.

Noah groaned and moaned, but he took them. None of them other than John were especially hung. None of them were as presentable as John either, which was why, Noah supposed, only John's photo was sent. Just a bunch of country hick bad boys, Noah thought. He was managing. This was all new experience for him.

Keith and Scott doubled him standing up with Noah wedged between them.

They let him shower and then took him back to the Lion's Den for a steak dinner. They all sat close around him, watching for signs that he'd break for the door or yell for help. But he could see that the Lion's Den wasn't the sort of place that would offer him any help. There was more beer. They were keeping him buzzed. He was sore, yes, but it was an experience. All of these men wanting him.

After dinner they all had him again in the cabin. Men drifted in and out. They weren't always the same group he'd started with. They were all men, though, and they all here holding erections as they approached either his ass or his mouth.

He slept between John and Tom, with James on top of him, and then between Tom and James with John on top of him, and so forth, until he zoned out and went to sleep with a cock still churning in him.

When he woke, he was in the cabin alone. All of the men were gone, although there was the smell of stale smoke and musky cum in the air, and his channel was gaping open and running with the cum of countless men. His backpack was there, seemingly untouched, and there was $124 in assorted bills sitting on the dresser. At least they'd paid him.

So, this was what it was like to be a rent-boy. He could do this if he had to. He struggled to the bathroom and the thin stream of water that came out of a groaning shower head, but the pain and soreness retreated the longer he stood under the lukewarm water. He could do this.

When he came out of the shower, the bartender from the Lion's Den was standing in the open door, two twenties in his hand. He fucked Noah in a side split on the bed, giving him attention with his lips—on his cock and nipples as well as his mouth. His was closer to lovemaking than any that had gone on the night before, and his dick was thicker too—and more interesting to take. He had an off-rhythm thrust that made Noah hold his breath for the end to the longer intervals, and his bulb paid extra attention to Noah's prostrate, giving the younger man a prodigious wad when he came. The bartender was sheathed, but he gave Noah a facial when he was finishing.

"Nice lay. The guys were right. There's breakfast on the house over at the Lion's Den, if you want it," the man said as he pulled up his trousers and headed for the door.

Noah the male prostitute, Noah thought, as he rolled off the bed and walked off to the shower again.

There were no trucks in front of the cabin, although there were a few in front of the Lion's Den. Time for him to see if the Lion's Den served a breakfast that made up for all the energy he'd been drained of and then, he guessed, to put in a call to Mason to come get him. It was obvious that John hadn't really been advertising for a hiking buddy.