A Blackout Date
I woke up with a headache so vicious it felt like a construction crew had leased my skull for demolition work.
For a long moment I just lay there staring at a stained ceiling I didn't recognize.
That seemed bad.
Very bad.
I sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. The room spun. My stomach performed a slow, threatening roll.
"Easy, champ."
The voice came from somewhere to my left.
I turned.
There was LeRoy Price.
That alone explained roughly half my problems.
LeRoy lounged in an armchair as comfortably as a king on a throne. A broad grin spread across his face.
"Look who's back among the living."
"What happened?"
The question came out sounding like I'd gargled gravel.
LeRoy laughed.
"Oh, buddy."
That wasn't a reassuring response.
I looked around.
The room appeared to be some kind of apartment. Cluttered but clean. Posters on the wall. Bookshelves. A guitar and a fucking ROWBOAT leaning in the corner.
Definitely not my place.
A second guy stood near the kitchenette holding a mug of coffee.
Young.
Tall.
Blond.
The kind of blond that looked almost gold in the afternoon sunlight.
He regarded me cautiously.
"He's awake," he said.
"Outstanding," LeRoy declared.
I pointed at Blond Guy.
"Who is that?"
The blond man raised an eyebrow.
"Fritz."
"Okay."
I pointed at myself.
"Do I know Fritz?"
The two exchanged a glance.
That wasn't reassuring either.
LeRoy burst out laughing.
"You don't remember a single thing, do you?"
"Remember what?"
"Oh, this is fantastic."
I rubbed my temples.
Every movement hurt.
"LeRoy."
"What?"
"What happened?"
His grin somehow widened.
"We painted the town red."
"That's not an explanation."
"It is if you're me."
I groaned.
That earned another laugh.
LeRoy leaned forward.
"You remember the club?"
"Barely."
"Good enough. We started there."
Started.
The word bothered me.
Started implied there had been a lot more afterward.
"What happened next?"
LeRoy pointed dramatically at Fritz.
"We met this guy."
Fritz nodded once.
"We did."
"And then?"
"And then," LeRoy said, "the night became legendary."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the details are classified."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Unfortunately he was right.
LeRoy might have been a terrible influence on civilization as a concept, but he was still one of my oldest friends.
Fritz walked over and handed me a bottle of water.
"Drink."
I accepted it gratefully.
Unlike LeRoy, he seemed to possess at least some sense of responsibility.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Fritz opened his mouth.
LeRoy immediately pointed a finger.
"No spoilers."
"What?"
"No spoilers."
"This isn't a movie."
"It is to him."
I looked between them.
Something had clearly occurred before I'd woken up.
Something both of them found amusing.
That realization was concerning.
"You know," I said carefully, "the fact that neither of you will tell me anything makes me think I should be terrified."
"You should be mildly concerned," LeRoy admitted.
"Mildly?"
"At most."
"LeRoy."
"What?"
"What did I do?"
For the first time his grin slipped.
Not much.
Just enough to make my stomach drop.
"Oh no."
Fritz started laughing into his coffee.
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," he said.
"It wasn't?"
"No."
LeRoy nodded.
"Honestly, considering how much you drank, it could've been much worse."
That failed to make me feel better.
"What did I do?"
The two looked at each other.
Then back at me.
Then at each other again.
The suspense was becoming unbearable.
Finally Fritz shrugged.
"You challenged a parking meter to a staring contest."
I blinked.
"A what?"
"A parking meter."
"Why?"
"You thought it was judging you."
LeRoy nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
I stared in horror.
"Oh my God."
"Then," Fritz continued, "you apologized to a mailbox."
My hands covered my face.
"No."
"Yes."
"Please tell me you're making this up."
"I'm not."
LeRoy was laughing so hard tears streamed down his face.
"You gave the mailbox a heartfelt speech about misunderstandings."
"This is why nobody should drink."
"Oh, wait," LeRoy gasped. "Tell him about the pigeon."
Fritz lost control and started laughing too.
There was apparently a pigeon.
I wasn't sure I wanted to know how I'd interacted with this pigeon.
The room erupted into renewed laughter.
I dropped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe amnesia wasn't such a terrible thing after all.
LeRoy wiped his eyes.
"Anyway, that was last night."
"Anyway?"
"Yep."
He stood and clapped his hands.
The grin returned.
A grin I had learned to fear.
"Get yourself together, buddy."
I immediately didn't like where this was going.
"Why?"
LeRoy pointed toward the apartment door.
"Because today's a brand-new day."
"That's not an answer."
"It is if you're an optimist."
Fritz sighed.
"Oh no."
I looked from one to the other.
"Why are both of you smiling like that?"
Neither answered.
LeRoy simply grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
"Come on," he said.
"Come on where?"
He threw the door open dramatically.
Sunlight flooded the room.
"The fun has only just begun."
And somehow, despite knowing better, I had a feeling I was stupid enough to follow him.
Totally without warning, Fritz fell at my feet, pulled off my shoes and began sniffing my socks like a mad man. And he groaned with pleasure as he did so,
"Yeah, Danny's feet stank like a mutha-fucka, don't they? I know for a fact that he's been wearing those socks since day before yesterday . . . and he got 'em even more sweaty playing a game of b-ball with me just this mornin'.." '
As Fritz sat at my feet inhaling the odor from my dirty socks, my cock continued to leak. He really did belong to me now, just like LeRoy had said. And my bud snapped picture after picture of Fritz sniffing and licking my socked feet---posterity proof of the fact that he was mine.
When the time came for the handsome hater to feast upon my BARE feet, Fritz was a simpering mess.
"Yeah, now you gon' lick the sweat right off my boy's feet!" LeRoy told Fritz while I took off my socks.
The handsome hater held forth his hands in a final desperate cry for mercy. He whined and cried so much that eventually I became embarrassed for him. But LeRoy didn't have an ounce of mercy in him.
"Get ready to drink down Danny's footsweat as if it's fine wine, homie!" My buddy ordered as he personally stripped the pants and shirt off our bound captive before tossing him back down to the mattress. Then I sat beside Fritz with my bare feet on either side of his head. He inhaled the heady scent of my feet. Then he scooted in close and gently kissed my arches . . . then kissed slowly up towards my toes. His tongue explored the sensitive areas between my toes, working down from my big toe to my little one and back up again.
I couldn't help but to giggle and wiggle my toes as he did this. He took several of my toes into my mouth at once and sucked them. He only stopped when LeRoy took a hold of the handsome hater's genitals and began to slowly tickle Fritz's scrotum---tormenting our captive with a combination of ever-increasing pain and excitement. Eventually Fritz's own cock became engorged, and LeRoy began to pump Bri's tool . . . stopping every time the handsome hater came close to shooting his load.
It wasn't long before Fritz's main source of torment was LeRoy preventing him from cumming. I was transfixed by Fritz's cock . . . it was as perfect as the rest of his body. Even though it was cut and wasn't very large (about six inches even) it was beautiful. I hungrily put my mouthy on it, swirling all around it with my tongue . . . and it wasn't long before Bri swelled even fatter in my mouth. And, after I sucked like a madman for a bit, I soon found myself swallowing a mouthful of Fritz Larsen's jizz. I took my mouth off his still hard cock, and the darn thing exploded again, splashing my face!
After his second shoot, the handsome hater's body seemed more sensitive than ever to touch. What was happening was more than he could bear. He tried to vomit three or four times during his ordeal of being manhandled by the same sex, but nothing would come and he'd simply find himself doubled-over with the dry heaves.
But he was sweating bullets as he lay on the mattress, convoluted and panting. Suddenly I reached down and touched his bare foot---one mere touch---but Fritz's whole body convulsed and his foot jerked violently. LeRoy laughed at the sight of this.
I started lightly scratching our captive's right foot and LeRoy began playing with the toes on his left. Fritz was squirming and going ballistic, and he knew it would only get worse.
My buddy and I attacked his tender soles and soon I began going after the tops of his feet. LeRoy tied Fritz's two big toes together, and then all of the captive's toes were bent back and held . . . just before my buddy and I attacked his soles with twice as much vigor. Fritz Larsen looked as though he would go insane from the feeling of our twenty fingers on his feet. When I got tired of tickling his soles, LeRoy was there to take over for me. The handsome hater would find no relief from our onslaught.
My buddy and I were both amused to see him thrashing about as much as his bonds would allow. His face was honey-blond and tears were streaming down his very bruised (but still very handsome) face. He was begging like I'd never heard anyone beg before, "P-P-PLEASE! PLEEEEEASE HEEE! N-N-N-NOOOOO! AAAAGH! HA-HA-HAAAARGH!! PLEEEEASE!! NN-N-NO-NOOOOO! AAAAA-A-A-AARRRGH . . . PLEEEEEEASE!!!!!!"
LeRoy laughed derisively at Fritz's reaction and motioned towards our captive's crotch.
"Hey, this mutha fucka is actually gettin' off on havin' his feet tickled. This punk's dick is rock-hard again!"
And so it was. Fritz's cock was rock hard again after having shot twice! The ticklish sensations in his feet were unbearable, yet they apparently made him sexually excited against his will. LeRoy didn't like the idea of the handsome hater feeling any pleasure at this experience so, after all was said and done, he yanked Fritz to his feet, spun him around . . . and then slammed his naked body up against the atelier wall so that his already bruised cheek scraped hard against the abrasive adobe. My buddy then moved behind him and picked up one of the rowboat oars that was just lying around in tne cluttered apartment.
I left when the "swatting" began.