Only the One

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Note: this is an entry in an "exactly 750-words" writing exercise.

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That I would go out to the gay roadhouse on the edge of town with blizzard warnings posted was a signal of my great need for a hookup. The snow hadn't started when I got to the bar in the dark but it was coming. I'd never had trouble hooking up at this roadhouse, and I didn't this time either. Guys were staying away, not wanting to be caught in a blizzard.

I'd barely bellied up to the bar when I had two guys on either side, both offering to buy me a drink. My thought was "only the one," although I didn't say so, as I didn't know yet what I was looking for tonight. On my left was Jack, good-looking, good build, nice smile, not intimidating, maybe four years older than I was. On my left, the older, more intimidating, biker-type Cal, bald, bearded, muscular, big hands.

I let them both buy, and two drinks into the conversation, I was being touched, fondled, kissed, propositioned by both. Neither seemed upset the other was trying to make me.

Only the one, I was thinking and pulled away, saying I needed to go the head, so that I could reason out which one.

When I came out of the head, Jack was leaning against the wall, further down the dark hall, rubbing his crotch.

"On your knees and blow me," he growled, suddenly assertive. I went on my knees, unzipped and freed him, and took him in my throat. Cal stood inside the beaded curtain into the barroom, watching and rubbing his crotch. I beat my meat while sucking Jack off and shot my load.

After going back into the john to clean off my face, I returned to the bar, where Jack stood me another drink. Cal was gone.

"I'm without wheels," Jack said. "Can you drive me home?"

We both knew what that meant. It was snowing when we left.

It was an old, remote farmhouse. A blue van was parked next to it. Jack led me upstairs and down a hall of closed doors. He fucked me on the bed, my back down at the foot, my knees hooked on his hips, him holding my head to the bed in a chokehold. I stroked myself off with one hand and clutched his bicep with the other. He was hung, virile, and vigorous. He fucked me good.

Cal stood in the doorway, in tight black-leather shorts, a black-leather harness above, the front flap of the shorts lowered, a gigantic erection in his hand, stroking himself, watching. His other hand held a hand whip, which he was flicking against his leg.

Afterward, Jack went into the bathroom after saying, "Your turn," to Cal.

"In the other room," Cal answered and was gone.

Only the one, I was exclaiming in my mind.

I quickly dressed and fled down the hall, down the stairs, and out into a blizzard. One of the doors upstairs was open and I saw, in passing, a sexual torture chamber: a sling, an X-frame, some sort of stocks, sex toys on the walls.

Driving in the blizzard was almost impossible, and I was trembling. Still in the long drive before reaching the county road, I slid into a snowbank and the car tipped into a ditch. I managed to crawl out of the car and stood in the deepening snow, looking toward the county road.

I felt the effect of the headlights behind me before turning and seeing a vehicle approaching me from the farmhouse. A blue van. It stopped and Jack materialized from the driver's side.

"Had an accident?" he called out. "Need a tow? Come back to the house. We'll call for a tow."

Not waiting for an answer, he came forward and took me by the arm, guiding me back to the blue van. Trembling, scared and feeling weak in the knees, I let him move me—not to the door of the cab, but back along the side of the van to the back. There, the back doors were open, and Cal was standing there, in harness, leather shorts, combat boots, despite the blizzard conditions.

Lights were on in the back of the van. Padded walls and floor; restraints dangling from the ceiling. A sling dangling from there as well. Sex toys hanging on the walls. Bump and grind music going. Strobing lights.

"Get in," Cal growled. Jack held and pushed at me from behind.

"Only the one," I whimpered.

"Get in!"