A Wet Night Out

Mark’s stomach clenched as he edged through the club’s doorway. A wall of bass hit him first—deep, thumping vibrations that rattled his ribcage. Strobing red and violet beams cut through haze, illuminating sweat-slick bodies draped in leather and latex. He hunched his shoulders, eyes flicking from one gyrating figure to the next, throat dry as the scent of musk and cologne pressed in on him.

Drawn by a plain wooden door at the back—its peeling sign reading “Changing Room”—he exhaled and pushed inside. A middle-aged man sat behind a chipped desk, tapping the surface with stained fingernails.

“Name?” the clerk’s voice growled.

“Uh… Mark,” he managed, gaze fixed on a row of mismatched hangers dangling from a rack.

“Hang your clothes there. Key’s on the hook. Door locks both ways.” The clerk pointed to a tarnished brass hook.

Mark’s heart stuttered as he peeled off his shirt, each motion slow—his chest soft beneath pale skin, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to the curve of his paunch. He undid his belt, feeling the warmth of embarrassment creep up his neck. His jeans pooled around thick, pale thighs flecked with dark hairs, and he folded each garment carefully, as if touching them might shatter some fragile illusion of preparation.

Gripping the little metal key, he slid the bolt into place. The click echoed in the cramped room, and he pressed his forehead against the cool wood, chest heaving. A fraction of relief bloomed in his chest.

He tiptoed to the curtained window and parted the thin fabric. Below, bodies pressed and swayed, hands stroking leather harnesses, lips brushing necks. A woman in thigh-high boots beckoned a man forward; he followed, shadows swallowing them.

Mark straightened and stepped back into the club. Air conditioned and crisp against his bare skin, it felt almost arctic. The bass throbbed in his temples, voices and laughter weaving into a single, pulsing stream. Every exposed inch of him tingled—vulnerable, electric. He swallowed again, heart pounding, and moved deeper into the night’s murmur, wondering if anyone here feared the music as much as he did.

Mark's eyes darted between bodies, lingering on the men who carried their weight like he did—soft bellies over leather belts, crow's feet beside watchful eyes. A balding man with salt-and-pepper chest hair caught his gaze, then looked through him toward a lithe twenty-something in a mesh tank top. Mark's shoulders hunched forward. He tucked his stomach in, the muscles there already aching from the effort. His cock, which had stirred to life when he first entered the club, now lay flaccid and retreating against his thigh.

He shuffled toward the bathroom, seeking refuge. The door swung open and a sharp, acrid smell hit him—unmistakably urine. His nose wrinkled. Yet as he stood there, something shifted. His heartbeat quickened. The scent grew complex—forbidden, animal. He stepped inside, past a wall where someone had carved "FUCK ME RAW" beside a crude drawing of spread legs.

Through the gap in a stall door, he glimpsed a man—stocky, maybe fifty, with a gleaming bald spot under the fluorescent light. The man's work boots were planted wide apart on the tile floor, his thick fingers working his zipper. When their eyes met in the mirror, the man didn't look away. Instead, his lips curled into a half-smile.

"First time?" the man asked, his voice like gravel.

Mark's mouth went dry. "How did you—"

"You got that look." The man turned fully toward him, revealing a barrel chest covered in dark hair. "Like you want something but don't know how to ask for it yet."

Mark swallowed hard, his cock stirring as the man's deep voice washed over him like honey. The man took a step closer, his musky scent filling the confined space. "Come on," he said gruffly but with an undertone of gentleness, "let's get you out of here." He placed a meaty hand on Mark's shoulder, guiding him out of the stall and into one of the backrooms.

The room was dimly lit with a single red bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting an eerie glow over its scarred walls. A large kiddie pool took up most of the space, filled to the brim with a warm liquid that sloshed invitingly as they entered. The pungent odor of stale piss hit Mark full-force, making his already hard cock throb with need.

"In you go," the man commanded, giving Mark a gentle push towards the pool.

Mark hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The thought of submerging himself in a pool of bodily fluids, even though it aroused him, still brought a fair share of apprehension. The man behind him must have sensed his unease, as he placed a reassuring hand on Mark's shoulder. "I promise, you won't regret it."

With a deep breath and an even deeper sense of surrender, Mark stepped into the pool, his bare feet sinking into cold liquid. It was like nothing he had ever felt before – both revolting and strangely arousing at the same time as he kneeled down in the pool in front of his suitor.

The man stepped forward and stood above Mark, his engorged cock pointing directly at him. "Open your mouth," he growled. Though part of Mark's mind screamed in protest, another part of him yearned for this taboo act. Hesitantly, he parted his lips, revealing his tongue and waiting for what was about to come.

The hot stream of emiction cascaded onto Mark's awaiting tongue, the salty tang mingling with the musky odor of the club. His eyes watered both from the sting and the intensity of the situation as he swallowed the warm liquid greedily. He couldn't believe he was doing this – drinking another man's piss as if it were nectar from the gods themselves. But instead of revulsion, he felt a twisted pleasure. The man lifts him up and proceeds to kiss Mark, swishing the liquid inside both their mouths.

As the man's rough, thick lips pressed against his, Mark felt a jolt of electricity course through his body. The salty taste of urine mixed with the strange, musky flavor of this stranger's mouth sent a shiver down his spine, and he moaned into the kiss out of both revulsion and arousal. The man must have taken it as an invitation, for he deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue aggressively into Mark's mouth, exploring every crevice and sharing the warm, golden liquid between them.

Meanwhile, the smell of urine permeated the air, growing stronger with each passing second. Mark's cock hardened even more, if that were possible, as he surrendered to this taboo act. He wrapped his arms around the man's stocky frame, pulling him closer as if they were made for each other. The man responded in kind, squeezing Mark's wet, naked body against his own, grinding their hips together in time with the rhythm of their passionate kissing.

The man finally pulled away from the kiss and grabbed Mark's cock roughly while using his other hand to finger his ass. Another man joined them silently and began urinating onto Mark's back. The sensations were overwhelming and the dominance exuded by these two men made him close – so very close – to reaching a breaking point.

The man withdrew his fingers, smirking down at the trembling form before him. "Ready to take it all?" he growled, two fingers covered in both their fluids pressed against Mark's puckered hole. Mark whimpered in response, nodding his head frantically, desperate for the invasion he knew was coming.

With one swift thrust, the man sheathed himself inside Mark, eliciting a gasp of pain and pleasure from the depths of his being. The sensation was unlike anything Mark had ever experienced – the burning stretch of his virgin hole mixed with the heady scent of their combined fluids.

The man began to move, picking up speed with each thrust, driving himself deeper and deeper within Mark's quivering body. Mark's cock bounced against his stomach, leaking pre-cum that mingled with the other elements splatter against him.

Laying on his belly in the pool, Mark feels the cold piss of previous occupants on his skin. Suddenly, he feels slippery hands glide across his backside and a shiver runs down his spine. The man behind him begins to share Mark's hole with others in the pool, their bodies pressing against each other as they move in harmony. Before long, he is being fucked by total strangers, their thrusts becoming more urgent and primal with each passing moment.

Mark's cries of pleasure mingle with the sound of water splashing as he is penetrated by unfamiliar cocks. The cool liquid provides easy access for them to take turns pleasuring him, their thrusts becoming more wild and uninhibited as they feed off his moans. He is passed around the group like a prized possession, his body used solely for their pleasure.

As more and more men join in, Mark loses track of who and how many enter him. All he can focus on is the endless waves of ecstasy crashing over him, his prostate continuously stimulated by the relentless pounding. Despite his arousal, Mark's cock remains untouched - aching for release but denied it by these strangers.

His body trembles with anticipation as they continue to fuck him relentlessly, his hole stretched and slick with cum from multiple partners. He has become nothing but a toy for them - an object to be used and discarded at their will. And in this moment, that is all he desires - to be completely taken and used by these men.

Finally, when they've had their fill, the last man pulls out and stands over Mark, jacking off onto his spent body. His hot cum rains down on Mark’s belly, mixing with the sweat and fluids already covering his skin. With one final loud whimper, Mark reaches his own shattering climax - his ejaculation quirts all over his pubic hairs. He breathes heavily face down in the pool, completely used, violated and satisfied in a way he's never known before.

After marinating in the pool for a few moments, Mark finally decides to get out and clean up. Making his way to the locker room, he steps into the decrepit shower, feeling the lukewarm water cascade over his skin. As he finishes washing off the piss and semen, he exits the shower to see the man responsible for his night of ecstasy standing outside. Gerald introduces himself, his voice deep and smooth, and reveals that he lives in the town where Mark is mayor. Before leaving, he slips a damp business card into Mark's hand and tells him to call anytime. Mark giggles as he goes to retrieve his clothes.