The Impersonator (A "Masquerade" Story)

...Ben downed his drink and offered his hand to Trey, who took it and pulled him toward the dance floor. Ben recognized the popular dance tune blaring from the direction of the club’s DJ.

It wasn’t long before they joined the other dancers in fairly sexually explicit gyrations to the music. Trey had turned him around so that his ass was lined up with Trey’s crotch and, with his hands gripping Ben’s hips, the man humped against him. There was no mistaking the rigid cock rubbing along the crease of his ass. Ben’s own cock rose painfully hard, pressing against the zipper of his pants.

Trey looped his arms around Ben’s middle and leaned down to growl in Ben’s ear, “God, I want to fuck this ass.”

How could Ben fight that? He couldn’t. A ragged moan escaping his lips, Ben leaned back. “Bathroom. Now.”

Ben almost tripped over the bodies littering the dance floor as well as his own two feet in his haste to head across the club to the men’s room. He’d had trysts there before. In fact, he’d actually met his ex at the Pink Oasis.

Trey’s hand was on his ass, steering him through the crowd. He hoped the man had thought to bring a condom and lube since Ben hadn’t set out to come here tonight. It seemed to take forever to finally reach the door to the men’s room. Chances were pretty good there’d be other action going on inside, but as long as one empty stall remained vacant for him and Trey, that was all he cared about.

Ben pushed open the door and quickly noted they’d lucked out. The room was empty. Trey pushed him toward the first available stall.

“Somebody’s horny,” Ben joked.

“Damn straight. Get your ass in there.”

Ben happily complied and was already unfastening his pants as Trey turned to twist the lock on the cramped stall. The man grabbed the back of Ben’s neck and crushed his mouth over his, Trey’s tongue tasting of Scotch and cigarettes. It was a brutal, hot, fuck-me-now kind of kiss.

Trey broke it off, turned Ben around and shoved him against the wall behind the toilet, forcing Ben to brace himself with his hands so he didn’t fall. His jeans and boxer briefs were yanked down to his knees.

“Eyes front and don’t move,” Trey ordered when Ben went to turn his head to look.

Ben’s cock throbbed and he desperately wanted to stroke it, but the cold command froze him in place, causing him to quiver with need and red-hot burning lust. “Fuck me,” he pleaded.

Trey’s large hand came down hard and stinging on Ben’s right ass cheek. “I didn’t say you could speak. And, oh, yeah, I’m going to fuck you, boy.”

Ben bit his lip and closed his eyes, willing himself not to come just from the swat and Trey’s words. He wanted to hold off, to come only when the man’s prick was pounding him senseless.

He heard Trey undoing his jeans and the sound of a condom package being torn open. Anticipation made him shake. Rough, blunt fingers probed at his entrance, slipping in slicked with lube.

“Ah, God.”

Trey chuckled. “I still didn’t tell you that you could speak.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nah, fuck you.”

The fingers withdrew only to be replaced by the tip of Trey’s cock. It pressed in, past the ring of muscle and straight home. Fingers dug into his hips. It should have been painful, and Ben figured he’d have bruises to show for it, but all he could concentrate on was Trey’s cock ramming his ass, angled to nail his prostate.

Ben held back his screams, reminding himself there was no reason to let the whole club know how well he was being fucked. He pushed back against Trey, riding the man’s cock hard, knowing he’d pay for it later with a sore ass. His own aching, pulsing cock bobbed between his legs, untouched, but still nearly ready to explode...