The Holiday

We had all gone away for a month, us six guys: Ray, Mike, John, Matthew, Paul and myself. It was supposed to be a bonding thing. We were in the heart of the countryside, staying in Paul's family's holiday home. It was miles from anywhere and it was going to be our last group outing together before Ray got married.

To begin with it was fun. Just the six of us together, nobody's girlfriend allowed (or in John's case, boyfriend). We drank beer and ate pizza and stayed up late playing poker and doing generally male things. The cooking was split between John and myself and we had a great time.

But it was getting boring. There was no TV and we had run out of ways to amuse ourselves.

Then one night, a week after we'd arrived, we were sitting around having our regular poker session and Matthew was complaining that there was no fun in it. Ray usually won anyway and none of us could afford to wager any serious money.

"There is one solution," said John casually.

"What's that?" said Matthew.

"Strip poker," said John, raising an eyebrow.

This idea was greeted around the table with a weird silence. We were all looking at each other, trying to see who'd be the first one to turn it down. Nobody wanted to bottle out. We were all grinning.

Eventually Mike said, "Well, I'm game."

"So am I," said Matthew.

"So am I," I said.

Only Ray and Paul were holding out, grinning at each other. Of all of us, Paul was the least likely to go for it, while Ray would do anything to show off. Paul held Ray's gaze and said "Sure."

"Fair enough," said Ray, and he collected up our cards and started to shuffle them.

"How about a side condition?" said Matthew with an evil grin. "Whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the evening."

I glanced at John. He was looking at me sidelong, a spark of mischief in his face. I grinned, a little nervously. This was shaping up to be potentially very embarrassing for whichever poor bastard lost the game. These guys were my best friends, which isn't to say that I trusted any of them for a moment.

"Sounds good," said John. The rest of us nodded assent, trying to look as confident as we didn't feel.

The game started, and I was having a run of luck. I'm not the best poker player in the world, but I was doing well and my bluffing was working. One by one, items of clothing came off; shoes, then socks, then shirts and then pants, and one by one whoever was down to his pants invariably folded before having to go all the way. John was loudly voicing his disappointment that none of us had had the nerve to push our luck.

He changed his tune half an hour later when he was down to his jockey shorts and facing Ray, who was in t-shirt and boxers, and me who still had my cargo pants on over my own boxers. He folded. We slagged him for that. John was camp and extravagant, but he wasn't that much of an exhibitionist.

So it was between Ray and myself, and while he was the better player, I had the better hand. Two pairs. There was no way Ray had anything to beat that.

"I'll see your boxers," I said, "and I'll raise you my boxers and my pants."

There was a low whistle. The tension was electric. Six slightly drunk young men in various stages of undress were sitting quietly in a circle, and there was something undeniably erotic about all the testosterone in the room. I had the beginning of a slight hard-on. I knew I wasn't really risking it, but I was hoping that if we played another hand I might lose, and have to pay the forfeit. In the meantime I was planning what to do with Ray when he lost those boxers.

"I'll call you," he said carefully.

I knew he was bluffing. Smiling, I laid down my two pairs. One of the guys gasped. I knew I'd beaten him.

He looked at them impassively for a moment. Then he looked up at me and said softly, "Not bad."

Then he laid down his own cards. A full house.

The guys burst out laughing and cheering. I went totally crimson. I couldn't believe he'd beaten me and that I was now going to have to strip naked in front of them.

Ray grinned. "Get out there in front of the fire," he said, and took a pull at his beer.

I got up from the table and walked the walk of shame, over to where the fire was burning. The guys were chanting "Strip! Strip!"

I decided to do it quickly. I unbuttoned my cargo pants and let them drop down my legs, then I stepped out of them and pulled my shorts down, stepping out of them too. I picked up my clothes and tossed them aside. I was finally naked. There were cheers.

"What about the rest of the conditions?" said Matthew, smoking a cigarette.

"Oh yeah," said Ray. "What do we make him do. Hmm."

I stood there, naked, resting my weight on one hip, my arms by my sides. My cock was definitely not dormant. It was hanging there, swaying a little, sticking out slightly in front of me. Nobody'd commented on it but I knew they had all noticed.

Ray glanced at John, who was sitting at the table staring at me, his lips slightly parted, looking flushed.

"John," he said, "what do you think?"

"He looks lovely," said John with a grin. Ray looked at me.

"Okay," he said to me. "Get down on your knees and suck John's cock."

"Oh, come on," I said, scared and excited. "We never said anything about that."

"You have to do whatever I want, right?" said Ray. "That's what I want."

John didn't need any encouragement. He'd always been a little flirty with me, and I'd appreciated it at the time, although I didn't really think I was bisexual. But it had been a while since I'd had a girlfriend, and it's always nice when anyone makes you feel you're desirable. I didn't fancy John, though, because although he was slim and handsome, he was a guy - and I didn't fancy guys.

But now he was getting up from the table in only his shorts, and walking towards me, and I was naked and getting down on my knees with the purpose of giving him a blowjob. And the other guys were watching. I was starting to get hard. This was intimate, and weird, and definitely off the map. I was partly determined to go through with it because I had said that I would, and partly genuinely curious to see what it would be like. And John was so feminine, too, that I felt it would be like sucking a woman's cock, if only women had cocks.

He looked down at me, his soft brown eyes smiling.

"You want me to take off my shorts?" he murmured.

"No," I said. I wanted to keep it pure, to make me the only one who was naked. He took his already stiff cock out of his shorts and the other guys were totally silent, watching us. I had never seen another man's penis up so close before, and I marvelled at how lovely it was, with the thick head and the blue vein running along it.

I took it in my hands and began to lick and suck on it, tasting John, and he gave a little shudder and a sigh. If this was to be my forfeit, I could do it, this I could handle. I closed my eyes and I felt them looking at us as I moved my tongue along the whole length of John's penis, stroking him, taking him between my lips and hauling on him. I reached up behind him and slid my hands inside his shorts, cupping his tight buttocks in my hands, and he grunted a little. His hands were all over my head, stroking my cropped hair and shoulders, and then he was taking my head and starting to fuck my mouth. It was a head-fuck in every sense, raw and crude and also disorienting and dizzying. Was I gay, then? Because I was enjoying the feeling of John's cock in my mouth? I tried not to think about it and tightened my lips around his shaft as it plunged in and out of my mouth.

I heard footsteps and then I suddenly felt a pair of hands on my naked arse. I opened my eyes and Matthew was behind me, fondling my hips and ass and stroking my own cock, and kissing me on the back of the neck. "MMMM!" I went in muffled protest, but John said softly, "Shut up, bitch!" and there was a chuckle from the table. I was getting scared, now; it looked like I wasn't just going to have take John in my mouth. Perhaps I was about to be ass-fucked into the bargain.

I took my mouth off John's cock and gasped, "What are you doing!"

"He can do anything I want, Alex," Ray murmured from the table.

John took his cock and pushed it back in my mouth and I tried not to think too much. I went back to sucking him off.

I moaned into John's crotch as he urged himself on, and then I heard one of the guys leave the room and then return. I went on sucking and kissing and hauling on John's erect cock in my mouth, trying to make him cum. Then I felt the cool lube being smeared between my buttocks and I was no longer in any doubt that Matthew was about to fuck my ass. I whimpered. He didn't seem to be interested in whether or not I wanted him to. His cool, stiff, lubed-up cock was stroking me between my naked buttocks and I gasped. John was fucking my face frantically and Matthew was leaning into me, the head of his shaft pressing into my naked bottom, and there was a nasty moment of pain before all of a sudden, Matthew's cock had penetrated my anus and I made the transition from being a semi-reluctant cocksucker to a helpless ass slut. I moaned loudly and John hissed as he grabbed my head and came into my mouth. I swallowed his cum, or as much of it as I could, and I slobbered and licked it off his cock while Matthew worked his own cock up into my rectum.

I moaned with the force of it. It felt incredibly nasty and forbidden, having a guy up there. But I eased myself back down onto him, really wanting him, trying to engulf his thick cock with my arsehole. Some of John's cum dribbled out of my mouth as he stepped back from me, and I went down on hands and knees, Matthew holding onto my naked hips as he fucked my arse. I could feel the fabric of Matthew's shorts against my bare buttocks. I closed my eyes and went "Ooohh, Jesus!" as Matthew fucked me. I knew the other guys were watching me take it up the arse and for some reason I found that incredibly arousing.

He was splitting me completely. I had never felt so utterly used and violated in my life, having a guy I had known and called a friend for years fucking me in my own arsehole, and yet it felt so sensual and dirty and nasty that I didn't want him to stop. I kept my eyes closed and I grimaced as he reached around me and grabbed my cock and began to pull on it.

"Yeah, jerk him off," said somebody quietly. I let out a breath through clenched teeth and went, "Oooh...nooo...no! No! God! Aah!" as I felt my cock swelling in Matthew's fist. But then, all too soon, he was bucking his hips into mine, fucking me roughly, and I gasped and went "AAAHH!" as he came in me, deep in my rectum, his hot cum flooding me.

He paused for a moment to get his breath back and then he pulled out of me quickly. I didn't want him to. I could feel his spunk trickling out of my anus as I crouched on my hands and knees, my head hanging, panting for breath.

The next one to take me was Mike. He came over and unexpectedly he lifted up my face and kissed me, taking my face in his hands and putting his tongue in my mouth, and I returned it, finding it strangely pleasurable, as good as any kiss I'd ever had from a girl. But then he didn't waste any time; he knelt behind me and grabbed my hips and in only seconds he was pushing his thick, blunt cock into my anus, and I was moaning and gasping with the strain of letting him enter me.

It was dawning on me that every one of them was going to fuck my arse, and that I wanted them to. I wanted them to use me like the most abject slut of their dreams. I wanted them to cum over my naked body, cover my face with it, make me suck them off, bum-fuck me, sit on my face - all the things they'd always wanted to try, and never been able to. I wanted them to live out their filthiest fantasies in a way that they'd only ever dreamed of doing with their girlfriends. I was their bitch, for tonight anyway. God, it felt good to give myself up to my friends like this, to let them use me like they'd only ever imagined using anyone. At last they were able to put their imaginations into action, because at last they had someone who was willing to let them do whatever they wanted to him, and that person was me.

John of course was gay, and I knew that there probably wasn't anything the guys would want to do to me that he hadn't at least tried already. But I was hoping that he, too, would have a fantasy, maybe of fucking a cute straight guy. And I wanted him to live whatever it was out on me.

Mike's penis wasn't very long but it was thick, and the friction of having him inside me, even with the lube and with Matthew's cum lubricating my arsehole, was almost overwhelming. I felt my knees getting shaky and sure enough they gave, so that I was down in a cobra position, reared up on my elbows and moaning harshly as Mike buggered me: "Oh, Jesus, oh fuck, oooh, ohh, ohhh, oh God, oh God..."

I opened my eyes, breathing fast and heavily, and I focused on the others still sitting at the table; Ray, staring fascinated at the spectacle of Mike fucking me on the rug before the fire; John, sitting once again, looking flushed and sated; Matthew, lighting one of his ever-present cigarettes; and Paul, who took a nervous gulp of wine and looked the most uneasy with what was happening.

Mike was mounted on my arse and pushing deep into the cleft of my buttocks, and my cock was squashed against the thick rug. He wasn't fucking me the slow, deep, sensual way Matthew had. He had just grabbed me and mounted me like an animal, and now he was thinking only of his own pleasure, ruthlessly buggering me in fast, rough strokes. I remember thinking that this was what it must be like to be raped. I wasn't going to cum like this, but I knew he was about to. "Oh yeah...yeah...yeah! Oh God!" he gasped as he pumped into me, and I hissed "Oooh Jesussss!" as I felt him cumming inside me, then I let go and I sank face down onto the rug, shoving my slim hips back and upwards into his groin, milking the last of his cum from his swollen cock.

I lay with my face buried in the rug, breathing heavily, overwhelmed at what I had allowed them to do - two of my best friends had just sodomised me and another had fucked my mouth, and there was more to come. Mike gingerly withdrew his softening penis from my arse, stroking me gently as if to apologise for how hard he'd fucked me, and I gave a little whimper.

I heard footsteps and I raised my sweating head. Ray was standing by my head, looking down at me where I lay prone, naked and fucked in the firelight.

"Pick him up," he said.

Matthew and Paul came over, grabbed me under my armpits and lifted me onto my knees. Ray inspected me, my slender body, my ribcage rising and falling, the thread of John's cum cooling on my lips. My cock still swaying, half-erect, between my thighs.

"Do you want more?" he asked me.

"Yes," I whispered.

"You want to get fucked again? You want to get fucked up your arse by every single one of us?"

"Yes," I said, staring at me, imploring him to use me. He considered me; normally straight, even a little inhibited, a friend he'd known for five years, now naked and stained with cum and begging to be used by him.

"We're gonna shave you," he said softly. "Your whole body. Every inch. I don't want a single hair left. By the time we leave it'll have grown back, don't worry. I want you as naked as possible before I fuck you."

I gazed at Ray. I was giving myself over to them, now. They really were doing whatever they wanted with me.

"Take him into the bathroom," said Ray, and he turned and walked out.

Matthew and Paul held me under the arms and John and Mike picked up my legs, and I was carried bodily into the bathroom, still naked. I didn't struggle. I was letting them do it.

Ray was already in there. He instructed the others to put me down on the tiled floor. Then he told me to get on all fours. I did so.

They were shaking up their cans of shaving foam.

"I want him totally covered," said Ray. "Every inch."

They sprayed handfuls of foam and started smearing it over my nude body, their hands moving the white foam all over me, first my back and shoulders and upper arms and then my arse and thighs, John smearing it deep into the cleft of my buttocks, then Mike was rubbing it into my cropped hair and Ray ordered me to kneel. I sat back on my heels, my arms by my sides, and Mike rubbed the foam all over my head, then over my face. I closed my eyes and he smeared it completely over my face, covering every inch, while one of the others covered my chest and stomach and then my cock and balls with shaving foam. Meanwhile the others were doing my calves and feet and forearms and hands.

In a couple of minutes I was completely covered in the stuff. I held my mouth open and breathed through it.

They all started shaving me at once. Two of them were doing my back and arse, another was shaving my chest and belly, another my arms and another my legs. They didn't touch my head, yet.

I felt my body hair coming off me, and the coolness of the air and the astringents in the foam made my bare skin tingle. I couldn't see what they were doing because of the foam in my face and eyes, but God, it felt erotic to have my friends doing this to me, humiliating me, shaving off all my body hair to make me into a purely sexual object.

They made me lean back on my hands to give John better access to my genitals, which he shaved expertly. I was tense about having a razor down there, but he was swift and precise. Then they made me go on all fours again, and I moaned as I felt them parting my buttocks, and then there was the careful scratching of the razor shaving the hairs out of my crack.

As they went on they mopped me with wet flannels, and I felt my chest and arms and legs becoming smooth and cool. Lastly they made me sit, and then I felt the razor scything the short hair from my head, over and over again, making me bald; then the careful scraping around my jaw and neck and under my nose and on my chin; then, finally, the delicate removal of the hair on my eyebrows.

I heard John say, "I think that's it," and I was helped to my feet. I heard the shower running.

Ray's voice said, "Okay, Alex, have a shower and get cleaned up and let's see what you look like."

I felt my way into the shower and gasped as the water hit me. It felt so intense, so wet, now that I had no body hair to trap it; I was as smooth as a girl, and totally hairless. I washed the foam out of my eyes and off my body, and when I was clean I stepped out of the shower.

The guys were looking at me. John looked a little amused. Matthew and Mike were intrigued. Paul looked hot and bothered. Ray looked definitely hungry.

They stepped back from the full-length mirror. I got a good look at myself.

I was me, all right, but how different; bald and smooth and alien-looking, my body pink from the shaving and the warm water, my chest hair gone, my head with none of the masculinity that it normally had. I was about skin, about flesh, for all that I was still slender; I looked less like a man, without actually looking like a woman. What I really looked like was a blank slate, a shop-window mannequin with genitals, a sexual template for anyone to inscribe fantasies on. My naked, hairless cock and balls were hanging pink and gleaming between my dripping thighs. My pale eyes looked very strange with no eyebrows whatever.

Ray grabbed me and kissed me, his hands groping me all over, and I moaned thickly inside his mouth as he gathered my naked body up against him. I closed my eyes. He was reaching down into the smooth crack of my arse and touching my anus and I shuddered. I felt someone smearing cool gel into the cleft and Ray's fingers moving it around, pushing gobs of it up into the already stretched tunnel of my anus, lubing me up once more.