Lavish Didi Stories - Bachelor party on a yacht - Chapter 3

Bachelor Party

Author’s note: All characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

Chapter 3

Marcus came back with five guys.

I heard them before I saw them. The salon door. Shoes or barefoot or flip flops on the thin carpet. JP’s laugh, low, the one he used when he was already winning. Then Marcus, bald head ducking the bulkhead, voice like a locker room.

“Told you boys. He’s still there.”

They filled the hall. Derek was the loudest and the least dressed for it. Late twenties, red from the jacuzzi, a Dolphins hat turned backwards over hair that was already thinning at the temples. Gold chain. Shoulders that had played something once in college and then stopped. He stood with his weight on one hip and his thumb hooked in his waistband like the hall was a tailgate. He laughed with his mouth open and he didn’t look away from my face.

Andrew was the opposite. Early thirties. Button-down still buttoned, sleeves rolled once, the watch of a man who billed hours. Neat hair. No beard. He held his beer like a prop and stood half a step behind Derek, shoulders up, the posture of somebody who had already decided this was a mistake and was staying anyway. He looked at my chin and then at the ceiling and then at my chin again.

Tyler was younger. Chase’s college roommate. Blond in a lazy athletic way, not Colton’s expensive blond. Tank top. The kind of body that lived in a gym three days a week and called it enough. He was already half-hard and he stood with his hands in his pockets until he remembered that made it worse, then he took them out and didn’t know where to put them. He nodded at JP like he’d heard a play call.

Keith filled the corridor. Marcus’s old teammate. Thick neck, thicker through the chest, a beard that wasn’t as full as JP’s and didn’t try to be. Sunscreen and jacuzzi on him. He stood with his arms loose and his chin up, the grin of a man who had done worse in parking lots and was pleased the yacht had rules he could break. He looked at my face and didn’t pretend he was shocked.

The fifth came last and didn’t give a name. Older by a few years. Gray at the temples. A polo that cost more than Andrew’s shirt. He stood stiller than the rest, one hand in his pocket, the other holding nothing. He looked at the three loads already on me the way a man looks at a job he has decided to finish. Quiet. Not kind. Not leaving.

JP stayed where he was, cigar going, sunglasses on, beer in the other hand. I was on my knees. Three loads already on me. JP’s tacky at the bottom. Marcus’s over it. Colton’s messy one still wet on my forehead. I hadn’t wiped. My work shirt was done, a cummy mess. My mouth tasted like all of them.

The new ones stopped when they saw my face. Derek was the loudest. He laughed once, short, and didn’t look away.

“Jesus, Marcus. You said he was down. You didn’t say he was a canvas.”

“He’s a target,” JP said. “You jerk it. You don’t put it in him. You don’t let him put his mouth on it. You paint the face. That’s the rule. You don’t like the rule, you go back to Chase and talk about vows and catering.”

Derek looked at my open mouth. At the mess. At JP.

“I’m in.”

“This is fucked,” the firm guy with the shirt said.

“Then leave, Andrew,” Marcus said.

Andrew didn’t leave.

“Rules again,” asked the groom’s old roommate.

“No touching,” JP said. “No mouth. You stroke. You aim. You go back out and you don’t tell Chase. Chase is getting married. The rest of you aren’t.”

Tyler nodded like he’d heard a play call. The big guy looked at my face and grinned with no kindness in it.

“He just sits there?”

“He opens his mouth,” JP said. “That’s the job. Zack. These are the ones who can keep their mouth shut. Derek. Andrew. Tyler. Peter. And that’s Keith. You want them or you want the towel to clean yourself?.”

My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

“I want them.”

“Say it.”

“I want their loads.”

Keith laughed. Derek clapped once. Andrew looked at the ceiling and stayed.

The grey guy asked: “How many loads already?”

“Three,” JP said. “You’re five. Make it nine if you count me twice later. Or don’t. I don’t care. Line up or get out.”

Nobody got out. JP tapped ash into the cup on the ledge.

“Derek. You’re loud. You go first so the quiet ones can watch and decide they’re not pussies.”

Derek stepped in. He didn’t kneel. He shoved his shorts down and he was already there, thick, cut, the head wet from standing in the doorway looking at my face. He wrapped his fist around it and started, slow, looking at the mess.

“Open,” he said.

I opened. Tongue out. The way JP wanted it.

“Fuck,” Derek muttered. “He’s just— he’s just waiting. JP, this if fucked up, bro.”

“He’s born to take loads,” JP said. “Hungry. Don’t talk to him. Just cover him.”

Derek stroked faster. His chain jumped. He aimed at my mouth and the first shot hit my lower lip over the old ones. Hot. He kept going. A second across my cheek. A third that caught my tongue. He wasn’t patient. He finished in five pulses and shook the last of it onto my chin, breathing hard, hat still backwards.

“Woah, I covered him good,” he said, and laughed.

“Good aim,” JP said. “Tuck it. Next.”

Tyler didn’t wait to be called. He was already out, athletic, a little curved, leaking. He didn’t spit. He used the pre-cum that was already on his hand from adjusting himself and stroked fast, angry at how fast, eyes on my forehead where Colton had been.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. To me. “Look at my cock.”

I looked. He came quicker than Derek. Three long shots that striped my eyebrow and the bridge of my nose. He swore, high, and painted my closed eyelid on purpose because he could see I was trying to keep it open. When he was done he stepped back shaking and pulled his tank top down like it could undo it.

“Don’t tell Chase,” he said.

“Wasn’t gonna,” JP said. The cigar glowed. “You came like Colton. Two pumps. That’s the thing I’m gonna remember.”

Andrew was next and he hated that he was next. The guy was nervous. He stood there with his button-down still buttoned and his cock out, thinner than the others but still respectful, long, the head flushed. He stroked like he was trying not to make noise. His free hand stayed on the wall. He looked at my mouth and then at JP and then at my mouth again.

“This is so fucked, I never done anything with a guy,” he said again.

“Then stop,” Marcus said. “And you’re not doing anything with a guy, you’re just jerking off at a bachelor party. The guy just happens to be in the line of fire.”

He didn’t stop. He got closer than the others. Still not touching me. The head a foot from my tongue. He jerked and his stomach tightened under the shirt and he made a small sound he tried to kill. The first pulse hit my lip. The second my chin. He kept going, pulse after pulse of cum, quieter than Derek, and finished on my cheek with his eyes shut like he couldn’t watch himself do it. When he opened them he looked sick and hard at the same time.

“I need a minute,” he said.

“You need to tuck it in,” JP said. “Keith. You’re up. Don’t be polite.”

By this point, I could barely see anything. My face was covered in layer after layer of straight guys’ cum, and it was hard to keep my eyes fully open. 

Keith wasn’t polite. He was big in a straight, heavy way. Cut. Thick. Already wet. He spat twice onto his big hand. He wrapped his fist and stroked like he was punishing it. He looked at my face — four new loads over the three old ones — and laughed once.

“Kid can’t even see.”

“He can see,” JP said. “Open your eyes, Zack.”

I tried. The left one stuck. Tyler’s shot had glued the lashes. I got the right one open. Keith aimed at it.

“Don’t,” I pleaded.

“Too late, buddy.” And the big guy started grunting.

He came hard. A lot. It hit my open eye and my cheek and my mouth at the same time. Hot. Thick. I flinched and he laughed through the next one and painted the other eye on purpose. I couldn’t open either of them after that. The world went to heat and voices and the wet sound of him finishing. He shook the last of it onto my forehead. I felt it run into my hair.

“There,” he said. “Now he can’t see. That’s cleaner.”

“Fucking animal,” Derek said, delighted.

“Next,” JP said.

The older one stepped in. I couldn’t see him. I heard the polo shift. His steps. I heard him spit. I heard the slower stroke, the one that said he had done this before or had thought about it. He didn’t talk much. When he did it was low.

“Stay still.”

I stayed. He took his time. I felt the heat of him closer than the others. Not touching. The first shot hit my mouth. I swallowed because it was already there. He saw it or heard it and his breath changed. He painted my chin, my nose, the mess of my eyelids. He finished with a grunt that sounded like a man who didn’t grunt at work but needed that. Then he was done. He didn’t shake it. He just stepped back.

“That’s five,” Marcus said.

“Six if you count me again,” JP said. “I’m not counting me again yet. Marcus. You already went. You want seconds.”

“I’m good,” Marcus said. He wasn’t. I could hear it. “I want to watch the kid try to open his eyes.”

“Zack,” JP said. “Open.”

I tried. Nothing. The lashes were stuck. Cum in both eyes. Cum in my eyebrows. Cum on my lips, my forehead, my chin, my nose, running into my collar. I couldn’t see the hall. I couldn’t see JP. I could smell all of them. Beer. Sunscreen. Sweat. The cigar. The sharp salt of it on my skin.

“I can’t,” I said.

“Good,” JP said. “Stay like that. Don’t wipe. Marcus, get him a towel he is not allowed to use yet. I want Chase to walk in and see the bartender looking like a crime scene and then I want Chase to not understand what he’s looking at.”

Somebody laughed. Derek. Or Tyler. I couldn’t tell.

Then the salon door opened.

Footsteps. Lighter than Keith. The preppy ones.

“JP? Man? Where are you?” Chase’s voice. Confused. Not angry yet. “What the fuck is everybody doing in the hall. We’re out of ice. Andrew said he was getting ice twenty minutes ago.”

The hall went quiet in the way halls go quiet when the a guy sees a young adult boy covered with buckets of cum. I stayed on my knees. Eyes stuck shut. Face covered. Shirt ruined. Hands on my thighs because nobody had told me I could move and I loved obeying JP. 

JP’s cigar glowed. I heard it.

“Had to piss,” JP said. Easy. Casual. Straight. “Took care of something. What did you miss.”

Chase didn’t answer right away. I heard him take one more step.

“Why is the bartender on the floor? What the fuck is happening here guys? Can somebody explain me?” he asked in a low voice.

Nobody moved. The jacuzzi roared on the other side of the wall.

I waited, blind, for somebody to answer him.