The Wanathon

LLOYD had been the life and soul of the club ever since he started working behind the bar. A bit of an exhibitionist, attention seeker even, you couldn't quite call him stunning: thin, buck-toothed and with protruding ears, yet he had that certain twinkish element about him which belied his 25 years.

Certainly the guys hovered around him like flies around a honey pot, and it wasn't long before I found out why. It seems he's a bit of a goer in the bedroom, and had taken more than a few of the customers back to the little apartment in another part of the building that goes with the job.

Tom, even, had been well and truly caught out being jacked off by him in the johns, his groans alerting those passing the door. Tom confided in me later it was the best hand job he'd enjoyed in a long while. And it hadn't cost him a cent.

Lloyd had shown little interest in me, however, and I'd have been rather reticent to get to grips with such a goer anyhow, in case I didn't come up to scratch. I'd always been the shy type of guy who kept himself to himself.

But his impish grin as he welcomed me most nights of the week did send a shiver down my spine, and a judder to my crotch.

So when Lloyd came up with the idea of a wankathon to raise money to send some guy from the club who had a terminal illness on a last dream vacation, I was all ears. Not to mention cock.

It seemed he was offering to try to jack off 30 guys in an hour, in the club, if they all contributed 50 euros each towards the vacation fund. At first I'd been wary of being tossed off in public, terrified even, but egged on by the others I soon reasoned it would be OK if there were 29 other guys being done as well.

And wasn't it all in a good cause? Anyhow, I'd long been intrigued by Tom's tale of his close encounter with Lloyd, and Tom had been among the first to pledge his 50 euros. So I dug deep and produced the cash, putting my name down on a list of wankees on the notice board that was soon three quarters full.

Lloyd was obviously a popular guy, and I was by now seriously looking forward to the event. As the big day approached, with the last few places now slow to fill, Lloyd made a further announcement.

He told us if he managed to jack us all off within the prescribed hour, he'd indulge in full sex with the ultimate one to spill his load. That soon did the trick, and within minutes Lloyd had his 30 names and their cash.

We all trooped into the dance hall on the day, those being wanked and an equal number of voyeurs just there for the thrill, all wondering how this would all work out.

Richie, the club secretary, had somehow managed to get half a dozen old sofas from somewhere, lined up in the middle of the dance floor covered in towels and sheets.

Suddenly Lloyd bounced into the room, and announced that a draw would take place to see in which order we'd be wanked. I desperately didn't want to be first, embarrassed by the thought of setting the standard in moaning and groaning as Lloyd worked the magic I'd heard so much about.

The names were called out, and I thought I'd missed hearing mine. But there it was, at number 30. I was aghast and thrilled.

I really didn't want to wait through all those guys being tossed off before my turn came. Imagine the shame if I got so excited I'd just cum of my own accord. And I'd be so embarrassed if all the attention focused on me and my cock if Lloyd was still on target to do us all in 60 minutes.

Then it struck home. Number 30? That meant if he managed us all in that hour, it'd be me who'd be floating off dreamily to that apartment.

I'd be the one enjoying a 69 with him, more wanking perhaps, or a chance to put my meat in his ass. Maybe he'd straddle me. Or I'd straddle him. I imagined him lunging at my ass doggie-fashion, pounding away at my love ring.

My mind was all in a tizz, and it took some grunting coming from the first sofa for me to realise that Lloyd was already at work. The first guy was still almost fully clothed, but with his T-shirt pulled up over his midriff and the buttons of his jeans fully undone.

It didn't seem long before he was ejaculating loudly, and grinned his thanks as the assembled voyeurs and others waiting to be jacked off offered him a round of applause. Oh God, I thought to myself, how embarrassing. Applause! But the guy didn't seem to mind.

The squidgy sound of flesh being pumped on the second sofa was already underway as Richie, looking self-important with his stop-watch although he'd chickened out of being wanked himself, announced that the first guy had lasted four minutes.

Four minutes! I was horrified. At that rate, Lloyd would surely never toss us all off in an hour. I had visions of the apartment door being slammed in my face.

But the second guy was evidently hornier, and only lasted 90 seconds before letting out a strange warbling noise as his cum spurted over Lloyd's hand. That's better, I thought.

The next hour or so passed in a dream of screams, groans and gurgles as Lloyd moved down the line at pace, each ejaculation met my loud whooping and clapping from the assembled audience.

The thought of being applauded for shooting my load made me come out in a cold sweat, but what the heck, it'd be worth it if it meant getting into that apartment. Just me and him, a pack of condoms and some lube.

Then at last, it was my turn. The guy next to me had set Lloyd a stiff challenge and lasted some three minutes, his eyes rolling in his head as he finally succumbed with explosive effect.

I'd had my shirt up and flies undone since some three guys earlier, and my dick stood unashamedly proud as Lloyd finally approached. In any other circumstances I'd rather have been dead than display my erection in front of a gang of cheering mates, but I did so much want to get into that apartment.

His hand felt strangely cool to the touch as he cupped my knob with his fingers, before clasping his palm onto my cock and weaving it up and down.

"57 minutes," Richie announced to cheers. We still had three minutes. Surely this master wanker could jack off me in three whole minutes. That's 180 seconds. He'll surely manage 500 strokes on my cock in that time. I surely just had to cum.

The apartment door swung open in a vivid day dream, Lloyd spread out invitingly on the floor, beckoning at me to enjoy his body.

Suddenly I heard the chairs being re-arranged all around us, and all the other guys crowding in, as Lloyd worked furiously at my cock. Those who'd already been tossed off sat there with fresh bulges in their pants.

Then it dawned on me. Oh no. A dagger of fear struck at my heart. I'd totally misunderstood. These guys were getting ready for the main act.

They were getting into prime position to WATCH Lloyd having full sex with me. We were to be a lurid exhibition of flesh and spunk. There'd be no visit to the apartment for me.

Lloyd was obviously relishing the thought, but I was petrified. Not in public. Not me. I just couldn't. I mean, a wank is one thing, but being fucked in full public view.... My cock was taking a pounding as my tormentor tried to apply the final touch.

"One minute left." I heard Richie's voice through the mist of fear that had descended over me.

One minute! Surely I could last just a mere minute. I tried to think other thoughts, to take my mind away from the very live drama I was a central character in. I saw clouds scuttling across the sky, I revisited my childhood. I saw mother baking in the kitchen, father sawing logs.

Then the dam burst. I heard loud cheers and I felt warm cum spurting over my midriff in huge spasmic surges. That demented groan I heard couldn't possibly have been me. Could it?

They soon tugged off my shirt and pants, my so-called friends, as Richie handed Lloyd some lube and condoms and shook his hand in congratulation. That damned hand that had brought this huge embarrassment upon me.

Dropping his shirt and pants on the floor, Lloyd turned to face me, a huge thick pole throbbing between his legs. The guys shuffled their chairs even closer as he stepped towards me, flashing his impish grin as he extracted a condom from its pack...