Lesson Unlearned

"You really wanted it this morning, didn't you?" Leonard said. He laughed as he rose off Dan on the bed. "And, woowie, look at that hole." He grabbed a hand mirror off the dresser and held it between Dan's bent and spread legs, his buttocks elevated on a bolster, so the younger guy by a good twenty-five years could see the effects of how Leonard had worked him. Leonard was exuberant in having exhibited that he still was this virile.

Leonard was Dan's boss at The Rocket, a live music hall in what had been a movie theater on North 14th Street in downtown Allentown, Pennsylvania. The movie business had gone downhill in this somewhat seedy part of a steel town still reeling from the pullout of Bethlehem Steel, but Leonard had bought the place, torn out the seats, and brought a stream of "not quite there yet" rock bands in. He was bringing traffic back to 14th Street and making enough money to make a go of it.

Dan, fresh out of Temple University, had been hired to handle the sound and lights for the shows. Leonard had fucked him in the tech booth at the opposite end of the theater stage and above the box office and theater lobby with what was called a soda can cock—not appreciably long, but demandingly thick—which had nearly zoned the young man out the first couple of times. Then he'd taken Dan home to his fourth-floor one-bedroom apartment on Edison Street and trained Dan's hole to take him. Dan had stayed for the free room and board, but he dreamed of having more than a middle-aged, paunchy, bald guy between his legs and taking the breath out of him with his weight. Dan did enjoy, though, the idea that he could sheath soda can thickness, and he enjoyed seeing how dilated his hole was after a session with Leonard.

As Leonard put the mirror back on the dresser, rolled the spent condom off his cock and arced it into a nearby wastebasket, and padded off toward the bathroom, Dan reached over to the nightstand and picked up the playbill of the rock band coming in today for a one-night stand at the theater. He had the playbill for Panther Pant, a "never went far," six-men rock band, whose hallmarks were their gyrations on stage, their gay-lyrics songs, and the long, platinum-blond hair they each had. They'd had a year or two "almost" fifteen years earlier when they were all still in their early-to-mid-twenties, but they'd been playing backup and one-night stands in nowhere towns like Allentown for the last ten years. Their sound was good for what they offered, so there was no particular reason why they hadn't hit it big. They hadn't hit it big or even medium big, but they'd done well enough to still be at it.

Dan loved their sound and always had. He also loved their look. He realized they all dyed their hair to get it platinum, but they had all stayed in shape and they showed that they had when they performed on stage. They unabashedly were gay. Most of them were tall and slim and well-muscled, although now going toward the sinewy and gaunt. They wore tight silk trousers in concert that left little to the imagination, and little or nothing above that. Most of them had great chests. The lead singer, Zeke Strange, was particularly hung, as he made obvious in his gyrations and the flimsiness of the material stretched across his crotch. The drummer, Digger, and the second singer, Pete, who also was the band manager, were going a bit to the heavy, but were still presentable enough. The long platinum hair looked a bit false on the other guys, Pete and the electronic keyboarder, Chopper, but Zeke Strange wore it well. In fact, Dan liked everything there was to like about Zeke Strange.

It had been the thought of Zeke Strange and that he'd be here, in Allentown, at The Rocket, where Dan worked, that had Dan performing in overdrive with his boss, Leonard, that morning. While Leonard was pounding him with that soda can cock and he was moving his pelvis with the thrusts and moaning deeply, Dan was thinking of Zeke fucking him. And, if everything worked out as it was progressing, Zeke would be fucking him in a few more hours. Leonard hadn't taken notice of the poster of the band Dan had on the wall behind his nightstand for the last couple of weeks. A lot of bands went through this town. Dan was known to have favorites and to keep their posters around during their gigs at The Rocket.

What Leonard didn't know, though, was that Dan and Zeke had been texting each other on the Internet for several weeks. It started off with Dan finding the fan club site for the band, introducing himself, and noting that he worked at a theater the band was coming to. He included a photo of himself with the initial postings. As he had hoped, Zeke picked up on the conversation and the two homed in on each other privately. Dan had remarked on how fine Zeke looked in his shirtless costumes and his appreciation that Zeke and other band members were openly gay and his fans had accepted that. Zeke had wanted Dan to show him a picture of Dan shirtless too and had asked if Dan also was openly gay.

Not openly, Dan, had said when responding with a shirtless photo, but, yes, gay. Bottom or top? Zeke had asked. Bottom, Dan answered. This led to a volunteered nude photo from Zeke and a request for one from Dan, which Dan provided. "Are you really interested or just playing games here?" Zeke texted. "If interested, send a 'spread 'em' photo showing your hole. You've seen how I'm built." Dan had been trained to Leonard's soda can cock by now, and in this training, Leonard had used a Bam dildo to open him up—eleven inches long and two-point-nine thick. A soda can is only two-point-six inches thick. So, Zeke had a "hot damn" response to the "spread 'em" photo. Dan had texted about the Bam dildo and Zeke wanted a video of Dan using that. Dan complied.

Zeke's band was showing up for a rehearsal and a sound and light check in three hours. Dan and Zeke at last would meet in the flesh. Dan rolled out of the bed, as Leonard, in a robe, came out of the bathroom to go to the kitchen to start the coffee. Dan was hard again just thinking that Zeke's band would be here soon. But he didn't let Leonard see that he was hard. He wanted to save that for this afternoon.

At the breakfast bar, as Leonard, barely covered by an old robe, worked on his fried eggs and bacon and Dan picked at his breakfast cereal, Leonard said, "You've gone awful quiet these last couple of days, Dan. I know Panther Pant is one of your favorite bands. And I know a lot of what you like about them is that they are openly gay and dominant. I'm not your father or even your partner, really, so I can't tell you what to do. But they're only here for one day. Boy bands aren't known for making relationships outside of the band Be smart and be careful. What you do on your own time is your own time. Don't let them bamboozle you. They'll only be here one day."

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Dan answered, digging his spoon into the cereal.

"And if you do let one of them fuck you, make him wear a rubber. With the fan club these guys will have, I'll bet they fuck everything in sight without a thought of where these guys have been."

"Yeah, sure."

* * * *

Dan would have been in seventh heaven perched above and across the gently sloping floor of the theater from the stage where he was tinkering with the sound and lighting as Panther Pant rehearsed if he hadn't been trembling in anticipation. When the band had come in from the psychedelically decorated old Greyhound bus they'd converted for their transportation and that was parked out in front of the theater, helping to promote their gig, both Leonard and Dan had been at the door to greet them and show them what was where.

When Dan's turn came to shake the hand of the lead singer, Zeke Strange, the performer held his hand for longer than need be and looked him up and down. "So, you're Dan Kent from the band's fan club site, are you?"

"Yes," Dan answered in a breathy voice. And then, because he was worried sick about it, he added, "Are you disappointed?"

"Not the least bit," Zeke said. "The photos were really of you. You'd be appalled to know how often that isn't the case."

I'd probably be appalled to know how often you've received naked photos of male fans, Dan thought.

Other band members intruded, taking note of Dan and doing so, in Dan's perception, in an interested and sniggering way that suggested to him that Zeke had shared his photos and message exchanges with them. Zeke broke in, though, and said, "So, you'll be working where while we're rehearsing up here on stage?"

"Up there," Dan answered, pointing up to the glassed-in tech booth at the other end of the theater in what originally had been the movie theater's balcony and projection room.

"And you work alone up there, do you?"

"Yes. All alone," Dan said with a gulp. "And it's soundproof."

"How convenient. I'll see you later, unless you chicken out."

"I won't. I promise."

"Did you bring the Bam?" Zeke asked, knowing that Dan would understand that he was referring to the monster dildo that he'd had Dan work himself with to an ejaculation in a video he'd sent Zeke.

"Yes, like you told me to. Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want."

"Good boy."

Leonard then returned to his office at the street entrance to the theater, giving Dan a sharp look in passing, Dan showed the band member where the power hookups were on stage, and the band started their warmup as, trembling, he went up into the tech booth and started doing his sound and light checks.

* * * *

The musicians had gone to lunch; Leonard had gone off to the bank to set up the till for the evening, to the printers, and to the local rock radio station to plug the show; and Dan had stayed behind in the tech booth, still tinkering on the light show he was going to put behind the band and on the stage lighting. Except that the band's lead singer, Zeke Stranger, hadn't gone to lunch with the band.

The first that Dan knew for sure he wasn't alone in the theater, although he'd had hopes that Zeke would remain behind, was when the ceiling lights went out in the tech booth, making it virtually invisible from the theater floor below. He turned in his swivel chair and saw Zeke standing there in the doorway.

"So," Zeke said in a low, throaty voice.

"Yes," Dan said. "What do you want me to do? Where do you want me?"

"I'll take you right there, in the chair. Slip your pants and briefs off, please. You have the Bam . . . and some lube?" He hadn't asked if there were condoms.

"Yes, right here," Dan answered, opening a drawer in the desk beside him and taking out the long, thick black dildo and both a bottle and tube of lubricant. He shuddered when he picked up the dildo. It looked thicker and longer than anything he'd ever taken before.

"Strip, please. And the T-shirt too, I think." Within a few seconds, Dan, still sitting in the swivel chair, was naked. Zeke had unzipped himself and taken his cock out. Both men were well on their way to erections.

Dan gasped and emitted an "Oh, shit" when he saw how Zeke was equipped—in both length and girth, close to rivaling the oversized Bam Dan was then holding in his shaking hand. He wasn't prepared for the jewelry.

"You're surprised? I sent you photos. You maybe thought I'd photoshopped it?"

"No. It's beautiful. It's just that it's got—"

He was interrupted. "You've used the Bam regularly?" Zeke asked, and when Dan acknowledged he had, the singer said, "Good." Dan didn't tell him that Leonard was fucking him with a cock nearly as thick as the Bam, if not as long. Leonard didn't compare to Zeke, though. "We don't have long. Lube up the Bam and set it aside." He slipped off his tattered jeans and pulled his mesh muscle T over his head.

Once again Dan sucked in breath, and whispered, "Fuck."

"Like what you see. Pretty good for a man in his thirties?"

"Yes," Dan answered, "It's got a ring in it," he finally was able to say.

"Yes, it does. Didn't I include that in the photos?"

"No. You leave it in when you—?"

"Sure. You'll love it. Spread your legs, hang them on the chair arms, and scoot your butt down to the edge of the seat." He reached down and fished around in his jeans pocket. Dan thought he was going after a condom, but he wasn't. He came up with a small bottle. Dan looked at him quizzically. "You haven't used poppers before?" Zeke asked.

"No. What's that?"

"You'll see," the singer answered. "You'll want it. Trust me." Dan decided to trust him. The man definitely was dominant, which Dan liked. And he definitely seemed to know what he wanted and how to get it.

"Show time," the musician muttered, and, as Dan trembled in anticipation, Zeke moved toward him. Moving over Dan's hanging legs on his longer ones, Zeke reached over with one hand, set the poppers bottle next to the Bam, and squeezed out a gob of lube. He gripped Dan by the throat with the other one and pushed his head back into the seatback. He bent over and took Dan's lips in a kiss. He moved the other, lubed hand between them. Dan shuddered as the hand grasped and slid up and then down his cock. It didn't linger there, though. After a moment of ball squeezing, Zeke press the heel of his hand on Dan's taint and went for his asshole with his lubed fingers.

Zeke invested several minutes in opening Dan up with his fingers while the young man writhed and panted and moaned under him. Breaking off, Zeke ran both hands into the hair on the back of Dan's head and pulled the young man's face down to his cock and made Dan swallow it, to the sound of gagging and the clicking of the Prince Albert ring on Dan's teeth, his mouth inexperienced in handling a cock ring in a blow job. He was sobbing and gasping and Zeke let up to wave the popper bottle under his nose to give him a jolt. Then he went back to brutalizing the young man's throat with his cock.

Dan had collapsed in the chair when Zeke gave him another popper jolt. Then he picked up the greased Bam, worked it inside Dan's ass, and worked him over with it. Dan was completely open, panting, and collapsed into the chair, having already shot his load, when Zeke exchanged the dildo with his cock and fucked the hell out of the totally cowed and exhausted young man.

Zeke backed up when he'd ejaculated and creamed Dan deep, never having produced a condom, pulled another chair up, and sat in it, facing Dan. He waited for Dan to bring himself under control, roll his head up, and concentrate a dreamy gaze on the older singer. He did not, however, unfold his legs from the arms of the swivel chair. He didn't think he could have. He was numb, although his head was swimming from the effect of the poppers that had saved him a great deal of pain mixed in with the pleasure—at least until sometime later in the evening, when the shock wore off.

"You were good, very good. As anticipated from our exchanges," Zeke said. "A sweet lay. And you? Was it good for you too?"

Dan marshaled his response. "It was . . . it was . . ." he couldn't find the words. Zeke found them for him.

"It was everything you hoped for, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"You've never been totally fucked before like that, have you?"

"No."

"I'll have to say that it was better than I thought it would be. Are you happy here, in this job, Dan?"

"Happy enough," Dan asked after a brief pause to decide how honest to be.

"So, you're not married to this place."

"No."

"Or to the manager, Leonard."

"No."

"He's fucking you, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"But not like I fucked you."

"No."

"We could use you. Panther Pant," Zeke said. "We usually have our own technical and equipment man but we're without one now. Maybe you could go with us. I could fuck you like that every night."

"I'm not sure I could survive it," Dan said and gave a dry little laugh.

"Oh, I think you could adjust. Maybe you're interested?"

"Maybe."

"I can't offer the job on my own. I lead the band, but Pete, the backup singer and guitarist manages it. And the other guys have to buy in too. We've only managed to stay together this long by everyone having a say. If you're interested, will you come back to the hotel after the show tonight and meet the other guys?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that," Dan said. He hadn't really said he was sold on the idea. But he didn't have anything really keeping him here, and God that Zeke could fuck.

* * * *

The Panther Pant concert went well, really, really well, and the band celebrated afterward at their hotel, the Franklin, a step above a fleabag that didn't mind noise or partying in the rooms, which was located around the corner from North 14th Street on Hamilton. All six of them, handing cans of beer and joints around, were piled into one room with two double beds along with Dan, there to be introduced to Zeke's fellow band members and a young guy named Jerry, who had been a salivating fan just below the stage during the concert and who had caught Zeke's eye. Everyone was naked and cavorting, with the overall impression being of marijuana smoke, gyrating manes of platinum-blond hair, and erections.

Dan was being introduced to the backup singer and band manager, Pete, who, as the oldest in the band was claiming firsties with Dan. Dan was on his back on the foot of one of the beds, his legs being raised and spread by Pete, who was standing between them and sliding his cock in and out of Dan's hole. Digger, the drummer, was at Dan's head, feeding his cock into Dan's mouth and awaiting his turn at the tail. The guitarists, Brian and Art, were sitting on the bed next to Dan, Pete, and Digger and kissing, stroking each other's cocks, and taking time outs to look over at the next bed and make position suggestions. A morose Chopper was puffing on a joint in the corner and providing melancholy music on a portable keyboard.

Zeke was getting acquainted with the stricken fan, Jerry, on a chair beyond the bed Brian and Art sat on. He was sitting in the chair, hands grasping Jerry's waist, while, sitting on Zeke's cock, facing away from him, with an expression of fear, shock, and undeniable want on his face as if Zeke's cock was splitting his channel, which it possibly was, Zeke raised the young man up and down on the cock.

There wasn't a condom is sight in the room.

Digger and Pete exchanged places with Dan, and Pete moved on to pull the "tonight's fan," Jerry, off Zeke, bend him over the other side of the second bed from the embracing Brian and Art, and fuck him. Zeke sat, surveying the scene, smoking a joint while constructing a new song for everyone to enjoy countless repetitions of runs and possible rhyme choices, and stroked his cock.

As Digger pulled out of Dan and ejaculated on his thigh, Chopper left the portable keyboard, on which he'd fallen in with the tune Zeke was trying out, shouldered Digger from behind Dan, and pulled Dan off the bed. He fucked Dan up against the wall of the room, sliding the young man's back up and down the wall with the strength of his thrusts, while Dan hooked his knees on Chopper's hips, threw his arms around Chopper's neck, buried his face in the hollow of Chopper's chest, and moaned the deep penetration, vigorous rhythm, and eventual creaming at the young man's center.

Growing tired of doing each other, Brian and Art gave Jerry to Chopper, who fucked the fan in a doggy on the floor, and took Dan in exchange. Brian lay on his back on one of the beds and pulled Dan down on his cock, facing his head, in a cowboy. After they'd established a rhythm, Art came in behind Dan, pushed his chest down onto Brian's, and entered him in a double penetration. All of that work with Zeke and the Bam was paying off for Dan in being able to take the cocks together of the two guitarists.

At the door to the hotel room forty-five minutes later, Zeke and Dan were embracing, kissing, and whispering to each other. Chopper was back on the keyboard and Brian and Art were playing Jerry, who was warbling over what very likely was his first DP. Pete had passed out on one of the beds and Digger was taking a joint break, while playing the drums on a radiator with the drumsticks he always had with him.