Not the Best Idea

"Why were you down in that neighborhood at all, Aaron?" I didn't want to sound judgmental under the circumstances—my little brother, Aaron, had dragged himself to my downtown Philadelphia apartment in the middle of the night with a tale of woe of having been dosed with a date rape drug in a bar down by the naval shipyard on the rough south end of Philly and sexually assaulted. I didn't want to think of it as rape, as I'd clearly seen the signs that he wanted to go with men—and rough men at that. We should have had a discussion about this earlier—not that he shouldn't do it but that he should control the situations he got himself into. What I should have been doing now, though, was seeing first to his physical needs and then to his emotional state of mind. So, I walked that question back. "Are you damaged? Do we need to get you to a hospital?"

"No, it's sore, but it would be too embarrassing to go to the hospital. It's done now. It's my fault as much as anyone else's."

I'd have to say I agreed with that, but what he needed now was help, not a lecture. "You should be checked for HIV. Did he wear a condom?"

"They, not he . . . and I have no idea. I came to as they were finishing. Otherwise, except for the soreness, I probably never would have known."

"They? Shit. How do you know it was they?"

"They were all standing around with their dongs out. As I came to, one of them was pulling out of Sandy and another one was pushing into him. I knew they'd been doing the same with me."

"OK, did the last guy wear a rubber?"

"No, I don't think so."

"So, we have to assume none of them did. We'll have to get you checked. There's a clinic for gay guys who will do that questions unasked. Do you want to go to the police on this?"

"No! They'll just say I put myself into the situation—which is true, really; I did go there to hook up—and I'll just get the stigma without any redress. From then I'd have the cops on my back and watching what I am doing all the time. It was Navy guys—they were in naval uniforms—tops, at least—and it was near the shipyard. They probably can't be found anyway. I'll go to the free gay men's clinic you use for HIV testing, though. If . . . could you go with me, Andy?"

"Yes, of course I'll go. We'll go in the morning. You need a place to crash tonight? Those are some bruises you've got. They were rough with you."

"Yes, I'd like to stay here tonight, if I can. I don't want to go back out and make the trip to Johns Hopkins."

Aaron was the brainy one in the family, notwithstanding any bad decisions he'd made tonight. He was in his second year in political affairs at Johns Hopkins. Mom and Dad weren't nearby. They were in Cleveland. I had a good job as a paralegal in a Philadelphia law firm. I was the only family nearby for Aaron to lean on. Like me, he was too good looking, in an androgynous way, not to be targeted by men. Unlike me, he hadn't given into the impulse yet—at least not until tonight, as far as I knew. And not with multiple guys. I wasn't surprised though that he'd gone out tonight having decided to make the plunge.

I was actively gay. It's probably why Aaron thought to come straight to me. He wasn't active, but he'd talked about it. He was nineteen, so he was free to make his decisions on these things, and he'd quizzed me a lot about being gay—a submissive—and how that went, but, from what he was saying tonight, it obviously wasn't his idea to try it out tonight in the way it went down—drugged and with a bunch of sailors—gangbanged. Which brought me back to the beginning again.

"Where did this happen?"

"A place called Clyde's near the naval shipyard."

"What were you doing down there? That's a known gay bar—and a rough one. Are you experimenting with the lifestyle?"

"No. Sandy and I went to the Eagles game. The football stadium is near there. Some Navy guys were sitting by us and invited us to go drinking with them afterward. That's where they took us. I didn't know it was a gay bar—but I'll have to admit that I didn't leave when I knew it was and I was fantasizing about hooking up with the Navy guys. You know I've been thinking of doing it."

"Did the Navy guys who took you and Sandy to the bar say they wanted to fuck you?"

"Yes."

"Rough?"

"Yes."

"And you told them . . .?"

"Yes, if they paid for the drinks."

"The drinks you got slipped a Mickey in?"

"Maybe. I guess so."

"Shit, Aaron, you're right, there's no use going to the cops. You agreed to it. You invited it."

"Not the drugs or the gangbang part."

"I don't think the cops would see it that way. Was there more than one guy putting the make on you?"

"Yes."

"So, these are the same guys who slipped you a Mickey in the bar and fucked you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. They were all in Navy uniforms."

"Officer or enlisted?"

"I don't know. Is there a difference?"

"Shit, Aaron, you didn't do any check at all, did you? And what happened to Sandy?"

"He was beside me in a back room at the bar when they were doing it. They were doing it to him too. We got tossed out on the street together afterward. He left from there—said that it had never happened—that we shouldn't mention it again. I think he might have enjoyed it, might have known why the sailors were inviting us to party with them after the game—and even maybe that it was a gay bar we were going to."

"Did you tell Sandy you were gay?"

"Maybe."

"And actively gay?"

"I don't think so . . . but maybe. I'm not blaming Sandy. He seemed to have a good time. He probably thought I was too. And, who knows, maybe I did. That's what the cops would make me say if we went to them—that I put myself in position and that I wanted it. And they'd just laugh at me and kick me out of the police station. And maybe I did want the sex part. You know that I've been thinking about it."

"Did you pass out from a drink?"

"Yeah. It was just one. And I'd only had a couple of beers at the stadium. It wasn't because I was drunk."

"Were you aware of everything happening to you or did you pass out entirely?"

"I was out until it wore off and there was a guy on top of me—inside me. And one fucking Sandy. And others standing around, in their sailor tops but without pants and pulling on their dongs. The guy in me jerked and came—probably—and another one saddled up on me."

"So, you're saying there were just those two who did you?"

"I don't know. It was just two after I was coming around. There were maybe six there in all, though. Maybe seven or eight."

"Shit, Aaron."

"After that they were done and Sandy and I were thrown out of the back of the bar into an alley. Sandy just laughed it off. I didn't feel like laughing, though. It was all mixed up in me. I didn't know how to feel, what to think. I came right here."

"So, you say you've decided you don't want to be fucked."

"I didn't say that." He gave me a little grin. "I'm scared because of how it happened. Not because I wouldn't want to do it again when I was in more control."

"Shit, Aaron. OK, we'll get you to the clinic in the morning. From the sound of it they used GHB rather than Rohypol. With Rohypol, you would have been aware of what was going on but paralyzed to do anything about it."

"I'm sorry, Andy."

"Water under the bridge now, Little Bro."

"What am I going to do about it?"

"In the short term, you're going to do what Sandy said to do. There's nothing you can do about it. It's not like you weren't thinking about doing it. And legally, you agreed to it. We'll get the HIV test and take that from there. If it's positive, we'll have to consider going to the police anyway—so they can see about making sure it doesn't happen to other guys. The clinic will take DNA samples just in case they're needed. Don't shower tonight. Other than that, they'll be discreet. Just tell them the truth and they'll take whatever is needed by the police later if you choose to go to them. They'll understand why you might not want to. If no physical damage has been done, you'll let it go and mark it up to experience. And you'll be more careful the next time you go to an Eagles game."

"And in the long term?"

"Why are you asking about a long term, Aaron?"

"It's scared me. On some level, I enjoyed it. I wondered if I would, you know that. When I first came to and a sailor was on top of me and inside me, I was exhilarated. And that continued with the second one; I only got scared when the third guy climbed on top of me and I realized that I couldn't just leave if I wanted to. And earlier, it aroused me too."

"The third guy? Now you're saying you remember three?"

"It's starting to come back to me."

"Shit, Aaron, so, now you're saying you were aware of more of them doing it than you said before."

"Yeah, I guess so," Aaron said.

"And you were afraid to say so because . . .?"

"I guess because I mostly liked it while it was happening. When we were in the bar and I realized what kind of bar it was and how the Navy guys were flirting with Sandy and me—some of them were real hunks. I don't know, Andy. I don't know whether or not I should have gone with them willingly. I just know that I would have. You know . . . because of you . . . I've been thinking about it. When I knew it was happening, I don't think I was repulsed by it. I was hard, Andy. The guy fucking me was also jerking me off and I came. I don't—"

"That's for you to think about, Aaron. I'm not going to proselytize any of it—whether to go that way or not. Your decisions don't depend on any I made. And, for this time—just take Sandy's advice and let it go."

"How about you, Andy. You ever let guys gangbang you. You ever gone with a group of sailors?"

I wasn't going to lie to him. "Yes—to both. I didn't let myself be drugged and used in any way I didn't agree to, though."

"Sailors to it good then, Andy?" he asked. Giving me a sly smile then. I had the feeling that the more he thought about it, the more he thought he'd been done good.

"Yes, sailors to it good, Aaron."

"You going to let it go, Andy? You bein' a paralegal and all."

"I don't know, Aaron. It depends, I guess, on your HIV test. If that's positive, I . . . we . . . can't just let it go. Maybe if they used condoms. But there are other guys to think of. For now, you'll have to make do out here on the couch. You can't use the bedroom."

"Oh . . . oh, right. Sorry. You have someone here, don't you? Of course, it's the middle of the night. Sorry, I hope I didn't—"

"It's just a good thing you came here. It was the right thing to do. You'll have to use the guest bath in the hall, though—and remember not to shower until after we've been to the clinic."

"I understand."

I wasn't that sure that he went further than understanding that, though. The longer he got beyond it, the more it seemed like he wanted to let loose of it—not do anything about it.

When I went back into my bedroom, Roy was there, with the nightstand light on, propped up against the headboard, smoking a cigarette, and fisting his cock. He was a black Navy lieutenant, with a magnificent body. He was from the naval recruiting station in Philadelphia, which was embroiled in a couple of lawsuits of false promises in recruitment, and I was the paralegal on the station's—and thus his—defense. The sex had happened from natural mutual attraction. The sex continued to happen. I'd found I like black cock, not to mention that sailors, indeed, did it good.

"You want me to try to help track these guys down?" he asked, as I stripped out of my robe and slipped off my sleeping shorts.

"You heard?"

"The walls are thin here; I couldn't avoid hearing. So, you want me to put out the word?"

"Not unless Aaron's tests come back positive. We can't avoid trying to do something then. Other guys are in danger.

"Sailors do this everywhere in the world they go, Andy," he said. "Stopping this instance here isn't going to do much good, here or anywhere else."

"I suppose We'll wait and see. You've got enough legal worries of your own."

"You'll wait and see too?"

"No, probably not. I'll do something on my own."

"And you want me to—?"

"Nothing for now, thanks. But thanks for asking." I sat down on the side of the bed, turned to him and took his thick, long, hard cock in my hand.

"This brother of yours, he's as sexy as you, You can't blame sailors for going after him."

"You'd fuck him if you had the chance, wouldn't you?"

"You know me. Any nice hole I can fill. You knew that about me when we started. So, where were we when you brother arrived?"

"You said something about showing me the Figurehead Fuck position."

"I don't know about doing that one now. It's athletic. You'll make noise. Your brother will hear it all."

"He knows someone is here with me. I'm not going to protect him from anything. He has to make his own decisions on this. I don't think the problem is going to be having sex with a guy. I think he's beyond that and he'll start doing more of that now himself. It's being gangbanged—and drugged so that he has no say in it. But if I know him, he'll do edgy stuff—probably increasingly more of it."

"You know I could do him in a way that would show him how it could be done right with just one guy. We've met, you know. He's as cute as you are. You know I'd happily do him if it was OK with you."

"Yeah, I know you could do that," I said. "If it was what he wanted."

"And you . . .?"

"I'd be fine, as long as Aaron wasn't hurt. We have no strings on us."

"So maybe in the morning?"

"Maybe when we get back from the clinic. It's all up to Aaron and what he wants."

I was, in fact, noisy in the execution of the Figurehead Fuck, which had me facing down on the bed, with Roy kneeling between my thighs, his dick inside me, and his fists gripping my wrists and arching my torso back toward his chest, my chest arched out, as he pumped me. He fucked me at great length—he was masterful in taking himself to the brink and then backing off to take another run at an ejaculation until the urge got too much for him. I wasn't shy about letting him know he was mining my channel deep—and doing a great job of it.

In the morning it became obvious that Aaron had heard us and had made his decision. I showered before Roy was going to and when I came out of the shower, Roy and Aaron were on the bed, with Roy giving Aaron a missionary fuck. Aaron's face was turned toward mine. His tongue was hanging out, he was panting like a puppy, and his eyes were flashing his pain-pleasure. Roy was being gentle with him, in recognition that Aaron was a novice at it, and I could see was giving him only a few inches, but he was thick enough that I knew Aaron was feeling it. I also knew that Aaron had come into the bedroom for it.

I could see that Roy wasn't using a condom. So much for having the clinic check for any DNA. Aaron might as well shower before we go to the clinic now.

As I watched and Aaron realized I wasn't going to put up a fuss, he clutched Roy's buttocks with his hands, and pulled the black bull deeper inside him. They went to town in the fuck. Roy was thrusting hard and deep. Aaron no longer was a fresh novice.

I wasn't surprised. They'd already done it earlier in the night. I had wakened in the dark to find Roy's side of the bed unoccupied. Then I'd heard them in the living room, on the coach. From the sounds Aaron was making, he obviously was fine with it.

I padded out to the kitchen to get the coffee going and left them to it. Aaron's decisions were for him to make, and I wasn't feeling possessive about Roy's cock. He was an active stud; I knew if I got possessive, he'd be gone. And I have to admit I was relieved we wouldn't be taking DNA samples and maybe going through all of that attempts to track the sailors down business. Aaron admitted later that he'd slipped a condom off Roy the previous night before Roy had penetrated him—that Aaron had decided he didn't want to go to the police regardless.

* * * *

One thing I could always count on was being identified as a desirable bottom. It was no different the evening I went to Clyde's off I-95 near the naval shipyard in south Philly and south of the professional sports complex. When I entered the gay bar, all eyes were riveted to me, although some guys were already paired off and, after gauging what they'd do to me given the chance, their attention went back to the current nearly completed conquest.

I walked up to the bar and almost immediately had two Navy sailors on either side of me, quickly establishing their position in the pecking order by their own potential as power tops. They had been talking about the Eagles game my brother had gone to when I came to the bar and they quickly made room for me to wedge in between them. So, they could have been in the group that did Aaron. One of them did the "Haven't I seen you before?" routine, and, since Aaron and I looked like the brothers we were, that was more evidence that these two could be among those who gangbanged him. I of course said it was the first time I'd been in the bar—which wasn't a lie and avoided admitting they might have seen—and roughly done—my brother.

Both were hunks. One was strikingly handsome; the other was decidedly ugly, but he was showing as dominant of the two, so my guess was that he was the better built and better hung—maybe even the better cocksman—of the two. Handsome told me his name was Chuck; Ugly told me he went by the name "Boss," which sort of figured.

Both of them put the make on me, showing interest in where I was from, how I'd come to be in Clyde's bar, and, not too subtly, whether I was here to take cock. Both checked me—and my reactions—out with their hands and brushes with their other body parts, and, in this, as well, it was evident that Boss was the boss.

They were happy to stand me a drink before we got to the "Would I take cock now? Tonight? Here at the bar?" questions. They assured me there were "very nice" rooms in the back where guys could get intimate in private. Of course, being sailors, their words for what was back there and could be done back there were all courser than that. They obviously were checking out whether I could be grossed out by their suggestions, but I was hanging in there, registering as a player—and a submissive bottom.

"How many?" Boss suddenly asked me.

"How many what?" I responded.

"How many men are you comfortable with having in the room?"

"Try me," I answered.

They eventually did.

When they weren't looking and before I took a sip, I did what I'd come in to do. I dipped a lacquered fingernail in the drink, with the lacquer and fingernail check being the recently established test whether the drink was a Mickey Finn. It came up negative.

I was here to see if they'd try to do to me what had been done to my brother, Aaron. If I caught them at it and called them out at it, Aaron wouldn't have to be brought into this at all and I could get it shut down at Clyde's. I reasoned that no bar wanted to be known for date rape going on there, so if I detected it and threatened to blow the whistle, the bar would, I was sure, see that the perpetrators were taken down.

Coming up negative on the first drink didn't deter me. I had also come to the bar to get laid, so I wouldn't leave unsatisfied even if I didn't catch on to a date rape act tonight. It was Handsome, Chuck, who had bought me the drink, so he was the one I gave the "Would I take cock now?" answer to—the first one, at least.

"Yes. I thought you'd never ask."

He fucked me in the dimly lit hallway leading off the back of the barroom, through a doorway covered with a beaded curtain. We didn't get as far as seeing what rooms were back there. Handsome was an impatient little devil. He had my back pressed up against the wall in the hallway. He was adhering close to me, kissing me. He unbuckled and unzipped me and I did the same for him. Our trousers and briefs hit the floor and were kicked aside at the same time. He went down on his knees and sucked me and then I returned the favor for him. After that, we went to town, my knees hooked on his hips and him sliding me up and down the rough cinderblock wall with the strength of his thrusting cock.