Pig Week

Too much of a good thing is a bad thing
(in a good way...?)

Forward

Part of adjusting to life in Fort Lauderdale in my retirement years included exploring new and different social opportunities. I signed up for a few Meetup groups, but most of the events were pretty banal. A couple of the groups were for gay nudists, which was fine, but they charged entrance fees that were around the same price as the local bathhouses or gay sex hotel day passes. I went to one or two and found them to be just a handful of wrinkly, dirty old men wanting to have their way with me. Granted it's pretty much the same at the bathhouses and sex hotels, but at least those places have a greater critical mass of wrinkly, dirty old men wanting to have their way with me, and better odds that some of them might actually give a good blowjob.

Then one day I saw an advertisement for Pig Week. It was 10 days of parties and events that catered to the leather community. I had dipped my toe into the leather culture many years back. I got some of the accouterments, went to some bars, attended some events, and generally got a feel for what it was all about. It didn't take long for me to conclude that it wasn't really for me. The dominant/submissive power dynamic and penchant for bondage and flagellation just wasn't what I was looking for. But by the same token I came to realize that the people in the leather community were my tribe. They have an unabashed, unrestrained, "anything goes" sensibility that pretty well sums up my life philosophy.

One year I popped in on the Mid Atlantic Leather event in Washington DC. I stepped from the austere and buttoned-up streets of our nation's capital into the swanky downtown hotel that was hosting the event. The entrance led to a balcony that overlooked the vast lobby where the welcome cocktail party was underway. I saw before me an ocean of exposed skin barely covered by leather vests, chaps, and jockstraps. It was an excessive, degenerate commingling of flesh, sweat, and testosterone. I immediately felt at home. These were my people. They knew what they wanted. They were there to give and to take freely and liberally. It was a place where shame had no meaning. It was where I belonged.

So when I saw the advertisement for Pig Week I was immediately intrigued. I expected that it would largely be attended by wrinkly, dirty old men who would want to have their way with me. The difference was that it would all be in an environment infused with uninhibited enthusiasm and miscreant synergies. If bathhouses were like downtown traffic, this would be like a demolition derby. Or, more accurately, 10 days of demolition derbies in a row, one after the other. The appeal was undeniable.

The price was a little steep. It was $300 for a full pass to all events. I looked a little more closely and saw that each individual event would otherwise be $50-$60 a piece, so overall it was a bargain. But it was still a lot more money than I was accustomed to shelling out for social events. I thought of all the reasons why I shouldn't spend the money. That was my way. Whenever I debated participating in an event or activity, rather than convince myself to go for it, I would try to talk myself out of it. It was a quality I wanted to change in myself. And I knew that if I didn't take the plunge this time, I would spend the whole next year wondering what it would have been like, and convincing myself not to miss out again. So I pried open my wallet and shelled out the money before I could change my mind.

I had to go to a local leather bar to pick up my pass, which was in the form of a dog tag worn around the neck. How apropos. I had to fill out some forms, mostly liability releases to acknowledge that I knew what I was getting myself into, and indemnifying the host organizations of any liability. I was also asked if I wanted to be one of the stage performers and wear an LED mask. This was intriguing, but I had no idea what it was all about. I had heard that there would be a lottery where the winner got gang banged by 6 professional porn stars on stage. I wasn't sure if what he was asking me about had anything to do with that, but I didn't know what the "performance" would entail, and didn't want to commit to anything I might not be up for, so I declined.

I went home with my dog tags and anxiously awaited the Pig Week events, speculating in my mind what kind of experiences I would have there.

Friday, November 29

There were two events that Friday to kick off the week. The first was the Jock Night Party at Gym Bar in Wilton Manors from 7:00-10:00. I didn't have any of my old leather gear with me down in Fort Lauderdale, but my everyday workout clothes did include a jockstrap. It was a legitimate athletic supporter, not one of the colorful designer jocks they sell in the overpriced gay boutiques. I put it on under a pair of Levis, tossed on a BVD black tank, and laced up my ratty old leather Converse sneaks. I decided to leave my wallet at home and just bring a little cash, my ID, and a credit card. I also grabbed my health insurance card, just in case. You never know what might happen at these kinds of events. In the (relatively) unlikely event I needed medical care, I didn't want there to be any question as to whether I was covered.

I had intended to take my electric, stand-up scooter to all the events so I didn't have to worry about parking. The Pig Week website made frequent references to the lack of parking at all the venues, encouraging attendees to take Uber or Lyft. But just as I walked out the door, a friend begged me for a ride elsewhere, so I had to take him out in my car. At first I was going to take the car back home and head back out on the scooter, but since I was already in the general vicinity of the Gym Bar I decided to stay out and park in my secret location. It was a nearby place where there were always available spaces and I could park for free. The only issue was that it was a bit of a hike from there to Wilton Drive, but at the moment it made more sense than going all the way back home.

I got to Gym Bar around 7:30. I was immediately disappointed. It was just a bar. It was just a bunch of gay men pounding drinks and carrying on like in any other gay bar across the country. Some of them were wearing the Pig Week dog tags. Most of them weren't. I walked once around the room and didn't recognize a single person I knew. I totally didn't feel comfortable interjecting into any of the lively conversations everyone there was engaged in.

Back in my boozing days I would have tossed back a couple drinks and started working the room. It was easy when I was drunk. But without the alcohol it was impossible. That was a main reason I did the naked thing, because nudity had become the social lubricant that took the place of the alcohol. But no one was in a jockstrap, and it didn't look like anyone was going to be. It was just a bunch of gay men drinking in a bar. There was nothing for me there. Nothing. I walked right back out onto the street.

The whole experience was a little discouraging, but I held out hope. The other event that night was the Cyber-Pig Kickoff Party at 10PM at The Manor. I wasn't familiar with that venue. I walked up the street to scope out the location so I would know where to go when I came back later. Then I walked all the way back to where I parked my car.

I drove back home and just watched TV for a couple hours killing time. I wasn't in a rush to get back. It was scheduled to start at 10:00, but I knew the gays tend to come out later. I didn't want to be standing there all by myself for the first 90 minutes. I decided to drive again rather than take my scooter out after dark. In the long run it wound up being a good thing that my friend had needed a ride, because it demonstrated to me that it was practical to use my secret parking spot and walk a little ways.

I got back to the venue around 10:30. There was already a line outside. I stood there waiting patiently, but when someone noticed that I already had the dog tag they said that I got to go right in. The line was the people who were shelling out $60 to get in just for the night. I felt like a VIP. I walked right past the long line, and when I showed my dog tag I was whisked right inside the door. I was given a wristband, which I thought a little redundant since I already had the dog tag and was already inside the door. But whatever.

The first thing I saw when I entered the space was the clothes check in the side room. This was an encouraging sign, especially after my disappointing experience in the bar just a couple hours earlier. I really had no idea what to expect for this event. I knew it was for the leather crowd, and that the participants were typically scantily clad, but I didn't know how bare people would actually be. The fact that there was a clothes check told me that they would be pretty bare. It was what I wanted to see. However for the time being I walked past it and kept my street clothes on until I checked things out and got a better feel for the overall vibe.

Up front here there was a fancy bar space in the shape of a big V. The near side faced the entrance and the clothes check room, and the other side of it faced an intermediate space with some lounge benches and stuff. I walked through that space to find the dance floor beyond. The ceiling opened up to create a cavernous space. There was a balcony on the near end, but the stairway up to it was roped off. There was another smaller balcony at the far end that housed the DJ booth.

The music was pounding, and while the crowd was a little light, there were definitely already quite a few guys there. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to wait until much later for the party to start. Most everyone was walking around in a jockstrap and harness top, maybe with a leather cap, and one or two with more elaborate gear like a Roman kilt or a leather dog face mask. Okay, that answered my question as to how bare everyone would be. The answer was pretty much as bare as they wanted.

This was not really a surprise. I didn't know for sure if people would be able to let it all hang out, but I was pretty confident that they would be. What did surprise me, though, was the gauntlet of slings that encircled the space. All along the back wall and far wall were slings set up in free-standing frames, most of which already had guys in them with their feet up in the air, many of whom were getting fucked. I did expect a lot of scantily clad men who might whip it out at any time, but I did not expect raw sex to be right out in the open all around the space. But there it was. The party had just begun, and already explicit sex acts were as open and unremarkable as bumming a cigarette.

This did not unsettle me. It takes a lot to push my comfort zone. But I was a little taken aback by how entirely anonymous and boundless the sex was. I mean, there wasn't even any eye contact going on. In bathhouses there's usually at least a little sizing each other up before engaging in penetrative sex acts, but here it was as casual as putting a quarter in a pinball machine. But ultimately that's what I like about the leather crowd. These guys don't pussyfoot around. They're all-in from the moment they walk in the door. I wasn't quite as free and easy about the raw anonymous sex, but I had to respect how they ignored boundaries like they don't even exist. Seeing what was going on around those slings told me in an instant what I could expect from this event, and for the rest of pig week.

I stood around for a bit taking it all in and grooving to the music. The crowd was not as old and wrinkly as I feared. Many guys were up there in years and on the heavy and hairy side, and there was no shortage of wrinkles and saggy butts, but overall it was a pretty hip crowd. I quickly felt overdressed. I had no compunction with stripping down and checking my clothes, but I was a little paranoid to part with my car key. I could put my ID and stuff in my sock and keep it with me all night, but if my car key was in my pants pocket when I checked them, then I knew I would worry all night that it might not be there when I got my clothes back. I was aware that I was being paranoid, but it's my nature to worry about things like that. I briefly considered putting my car key in my other sock, but then I'd be paranoid that it might fall out, and I'd be checking it every couple minutes all night long.

I finally got over myself, threw caution to the wind, and went back up front to the clothes check. Fortunately it wasn't that busy yet and there wasn't much of a line. It was good that I had gotten there early. I was issued a brown paper bag with a number on it. I stripped down to my jockstrap and sneakers. I rolled my jeans up carefully with the car key deep in the pocket so there was no chance it could accidentally fall out. I gave the bag back to the attendant who wrote the corresponding number on my shoulder in Sharpie.

I walked back out into the space in just my jockstrap. I immediately felt more comfortable. This was the equivalent of throwing back a couple drinks back in the day. I left my inhibitions in the brown paper bag with my clothes. I felt like I belonged. I felt free. I went back into the cavernous dance space and right out onto the dance floor. No one was really dancing. What few people were already there were just kind of milling about. I started grooving to the music some more. I don't really dance, I just sort of waddle my hips back and forth. But it's enough to get myself moving, and to shake my junk around. I was enjoying myself.

I explored the space more. They had a stage set up in the front with some picnic tables, large jugs of Swiss Navy lube (their primary sponsor), and many rolls of paper towels. I figured this was where the show would be, but I still wasn't sure what the show would consist of. I was anxious to find out.

I toured the gauntlet of slings. Each one had a guy in it with their feet in the straps. Some guys were getting fucked. Others lay in wait. I wasn't entirely sure of the social contract at play. What I could surmise was that anyone was welcome to climb into any sling that was available, and anyone was welcome to just start fucking anyone who was in a sling. No one was checking in with anyone else. They didn't so much as say hello. Guys just started sticking their dicks in asses as casually as taking a seat on the subway. Apparently by climbing into a sling you agreed to welcome all oncomers. Consent was assumed by default. Frankly consent was out the window. It was irrelevant.

And by the way, there wasn't a condom in sight anywhere. All of this was unprotected raw-dogging. It was all about flesh on flesh. That had become the norm in recent years at the bathhouses and sex parties. No one was using condoms anymore. Me included. If someone didn't specifically request that I wear a condom, I was content to go raw like everyone else. While I can't say that was responsible practice, I wasn't terribly concerned for my own safety. The risk is really for the bottom, particularly if the top ejaculates into his rectum. That's how HIV is primarily transmitted. Being exclusively a top, I didn't have to worry about that. Even if I were fucking someone who was HIV+, there's just no real path for the virus to get into my system. I know it's not unheard of, but I had decided it was an acceptable risk level.

Back out on the dance floor things started to get a little more active. And by that I don't mean that people started dancing. They were having sex. There were some blowjobs happening, but it was mostly fucking. One guy would bend over and the other guy would stick his dick in and start pounding. Right there on the dance floor. In these cases there was a little more interaction before the fucking started. But typically it wasn't the top asking the bottom if it was okay. It was the bottom soliciting the top to start fucking him. The whole space was starting to become one big mosh pit of anal sex.

As I wandered around in my jockstrap I really wanted to be naked, but I wasn't sure if full nudity was allowed. Looking back that's kind of a funny thing to be concerned about in this environment where boundaries didn't exist and people were fucking each other right out in the open, but jockstraps and harness tops continued to be the conventional dress code. I did see one or two guys who were wearing nothing below the waist. Finally I just said fuck it and pulled my jockstrap off. I rolled it up and tucked it into my sock. I was now walking around fully free and easy. My dick was semi erect without me having to stimulate it in any way. It wagged between my legs as I walked, and it flailed around when I grooved to the music. This was more like what I expected from Pig Week. This was what I signed up for.

I hadn't really interacted with anyone directly yet. But one guy walked up to me whose dick was hanging out over the waistband of his gym shorts. His face and body were on the okay side of average, but his dick was rather remarkable. I'm quite girthy myself, but this guy's dick made mine look slender by comparison. I grabbed it and gave it a squeeze. I would describe him as semi erect. And there was something unnatural about his fat sausage. He was probably pretty thick to begin with, but it appeared to have been altered. I figured it was probably augmented with fillers, or that he practiced pumping. It was like the inner shaft was encased in a half-inch thick blanket of fatty skin. It wasn't really to my tastes, but I was in the land where anything goes.

He asked if he could suck my dick. I said sure. That's the one place where I basically have no boundaries. Anyone who wants to suck my dick is welcome to do so. I'm an all-you-can-eat buffet. I don't care what they look like, only if they do a good job of it. And this guy was doing fine. He gave it a good sucking, and when he was done got back up on his feet. But then he asked if I would suck his dick. This is where my boundaries come into play. I'm pretty picky about whose dick I suck. And I have to say, in my opinion, it's a little improper to request a blowjob, even if it's in reciprocation.

The dynamic can get a little complicated in this specific situation. Typically a request is for consent. "May I fuck you? May I suck your dick?" That's commonplace. Then there's a request for service. "Would you fuck me?" That's an invitation. You want to get fucked, and you want me to do the fucking. That's also commonplace. But when you ask for a blowjob, that's inverted. It's asking me to perform an act that I might not want to perform. If I want to suck your dick I will. Asking me feels a little needy.

Ordinarily it's perfectly acceptable to say no to any proposition. That's part of the bargain in these situations. But this guy had just finished sucking my dick, and it made me feel like it would be impolite to rebuff his request. Additionally, I had voluntarily entered a space where anything goes. This wasn't a bathhouse. This was Pig Week. There was an expectation that I be piggy.

I had a choice to make, and I had a split second to make it. This guy wasn't gross or anything, but his dick sort of was. If he had been that thick but unaltered and "normal" I wouldn't have hesitated, but I was now faced with putting this Franken-staff into my mouth. But by the same token I was a little curious about what it would be like to suck on a monster like that. And if I were to get in touch with my piggy side, the fact that it was unnatural made me a little more curious. Was I hesitating truly because I didn't want to suck it? Or was it simply because I don't like to be pressured?

I decided to get into the spirit of things and get freaky on this freakish dick. I got down on my knees, and did my thing. I had to open really wide to even fit it in. It got to the back of my throat okay, but when I tried to push it past my epiglottis it didn't really work. I couldn't even really tell if it would fit or not, because it was too soft. It was soft in the respect that he wasn't fully erect, but also in the fact that this layer of padding made the whole thing kind of soft. So deepthroat was basically not going to work. I did what I could with it and just got off on how freaky the whole situation was, and everything was fine. I sucked it for just long enough that it didn't seem like I was rushing, and that was that. We went our separate ways.

By now the show was starting up on the stage. The performers were wearing the LED masks that I had been asked about when I picked up my dog tags, and I could see what it was all about. The devices oval-shaped LED panels covered the face, and apparently you could choose from a variety of things to be displayed by the LEDs. Clearly the piggy face was the go-to setting, but there were lots of other options. Many of the guys on the stage were going with the green flames, which was an interesting effect.

In terms of performances, there were some bears who were on the picnic tables fucking and getting fucked. It wasn't that much different than what was going on in the slings, except that they were wearing the LED masks and doing it on stage. Frankly I wasn't too interested in any of that. What I was interested in was the two slim, nicely muscled young guys who were dancing naked on the front of the stage with the big hard dicks pointing out at the crowd. That was much more my speed. I wanted to reach out and touch them and suck their dicks, but I wasn't sure if it was allowed. You couldn't even get that close anyway, because by now the front edge of the stage at the floor level was taken up by guys bent over it getting fucked from behind. Like the slings, bending over the stage seemed to be an indication that anyone was welcome to start fucking them without them even knowing who it was. It was entirely indiscriminate.

But as time went on some people on the floor were able to work their way up to the front of the stage, and they were touching and sucking the guys who were promenading their dicks out there. So that answered that. These performers also seemed to have entered into the contract that dancing up there meant that anyone was invited to touch them and suck their dicks as much as they wanted. They seemed to be enthusiastically welcoming of any contact. And I wanted some of that myself. I wanted it badly.

It wasn't long before I weaseled my way in. I kind of had to wait my turn, but once I got to the head of the line, I had my hands all over the guy and was voraciously sucking his dick. I wanted to impress him with my technique and my prolific deepthroating ability, but there were lots of other oral experts there too. Even at my best I was just another mouth in the crowd. So I simply enjoyed having the big dick of a hot exhibitionist to play with as much as I desired.

This was what I was in it for. All that anal sex all over the place among the hefty, hairy muscle bears was fine for them, but I wanted the big cocks of slim, smooth boys in my face and in my mouth. And I finally got my chance. It was glorious. I finally started feeling like a pig. I reveled in it for as long as I felt comfortable. I could have gone on forever, but I didn't want to monopolize him. There were others waiting to have their turn. After a little while I backed off.

While I was still up at the front of the stage I had a look at the other smooth boy up there. He was a little more to my liking, although the two were strikingly similar to each other. They were almost the same in terms of height and weight and overall proportions. The length and girth of their boners was almost the same, as was the slight downward bend they each had. What was interesting was that you couldn't see their faces behind the LED masks, so you couldn't really get an idea of how old they were or their general persona. I really wanted to have my way with the other one as well, but there were too many anal fuckers to get past, and too many others sucking the other guy. But I did stand there a while and enjoy the scene.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the other activity that was going on back on the picnic tables. It was just a bunch of anal sex that I wasn't particularly interested in. But at one point I happened to glance back, and I saw a rather extreme sight. Some skinny old man was getting fisted by a bear. That act is something that I have very rarely seen in real life. And this was quite a sight. The bear hadn't just gotten his fist inside the guy's anus. He was inserting his arm as deep as he could. And he had really large, thick forearms. And he was going really deep. He was in there up to his elbow. And the guy getting fucked was really skinny. Fisting is not really my scene. It's a little extreme even for me. But what I was seeing was such an incredible and unbelievable sight that I had to stand there agape for a while and witness it.

Once I had my fill of the activities on the stage I went back into the crowd. I got groped a little, and got a couple of blowjobs, and gave a blowjob or two if I found a dick I liked. One guy in particular was a black fellow with whom I developed a bit of a connection. He didn't have the slim build that I like, but he was pretty fat-free, and he had a nice big black cock on him. We swapped blowjobs, and even kissed a little. We were like two ships passing in the night, but in places like this, you keep passing each other again and again. Sometimes we would just give each other a nod, but other times we would interact again.

At one point we bumped into each other up by the stage. He bent over and presented his ass to me, clearly requesting that I fuck him. I hadn't fucked anyone yet that night, despite repeated invitations. But I liked this guy so I decided it was time. I reached up and dispensed some of the Swiss Navy lube from one of the jugs on stage. This was the first time I tried it. It was really effective. I got it all over my dick and worked up a nice boner. I smeared some on his hole, but it wasn't really needed because he had clearly been fucked already, and he was ready to go.

I got it in and gave him a good pumping. Despite the fact that anal sex isn't really my thing, I have to admit that once it's initiated the instinctive pelvic thrust action can take over. Fucking is fucking, after all, and the male of the species was designed to fuck. When I pump my dick in and out of something, it feels natural.

He was clearly enjoying it himself. I went on for a while, but I could tell my erection was fading. At this age the instinctive drive isn't enough to keep me hard. I had hoped that I would be able to perform while at this event, but anal fucking just isn't enough of a turnon for me to keep my cock fully stimulated.

At one point I pulled out, and I saw that I had gone even more limp than I thought. But I applied some more lube, and using my hand I was able to restore my erection rather quickly. So I poked it back inside him and fucked him some more. But again, it was only a matter of time before I went soft again. I knew I could work it back up with my hand again, but I also knew that once I was inside him I would go soft again. So I told him this was the best I was going to be able to do, and we went our separate ways again.

Once I was back out into the crowd, and having now gotten my dick all messy, I decided it was time to start sticking it in other asses. I went over to the slings and found the first guy who was available. Like before, I would work it up nice and hard with my hand so I could stick it in, but once I was inside it didn't stay hard for long. When I moved on to the next ass I could get it up again and stick it in them, but then it would go soft and I would move along.

This pattern repeated itself for quite a while. Whether I was at the slings, up by the stage, or just out and about in the crowed, I would fuck whatever ass was presenting itself to me until I went soft and moved on to the next encounter. It was kind of amazing how well my hand could get me hard, but how quickly ass fucking made it go limp again. It's really a matter of what turns me on and what doesn't. And I was consistently getting turned on by my own hand.

I started getting into jerking myself off. I was already messy with lube, so I just went with it. I don't usually lube up at home. I just slide my hand loosely up and down my dry skin. But this time I applied copious amounts of lube and got myself really slick and slippery. It was kind of a novelty for me. And it was also a little different jerking myself off in front of other people. Yeah sure I fuck, suck, and get sucked in front of other people all the time, but I'm usually home alone when I'm jerking off. To do it in front of the crowd this night felt especially naughty, which was stimulating.

To mix things up I explored other parts of the venue. I spent a little time in the various restrooms. That has an odd appeal to me. It's kind of dirty being in the place where people go to use the facilities, and dirtier still to be loitering around in there only as a voyeur. It's the kind of thing that is wholly inappropriate out in the real world, but mostly unremarkable in places like this. Doing what other outsiders would consider inappropriate makes it more stimulating here, even if no one takes exception.

I also like the fact that there are always mirrors in the bathrooms. I get some shit for liking to jerk off in the mirror. Sure I'm a little on the narcissistic side, but it's not so much that I like to see my own reflection. I am first and foremost an exhibitionist. I like to be seen naked. When I see myself naked in the mirror, I can see my naked body as others are seeing it. It makes my nudity all the more real, which makes me feel all the more naked, which fulfills my exhibitionistic nature. It always gets me hot.

While I was exploring the space further I found my way out to the patio behind the building. That was the smoking section. It kind of reeked of cigarette smoke, which wasn't great, but it was nice to get outside in the breeze and away from the crowd for a while. There was a corner that was fairly well lit, and I enjoyed standing there and working myself up for whoever might take notice.

Back inside I decided I wanted to suck some more dick. I'd had one or two dicks in my mouth while I was out on the prowl, but what I really wanted was the hung boys up on stage. By now things had thinned out a bit up there, so access was a little easier. The problem was that at this point they had been fucking some guys on stage. In fact they were now pretty much going back and forth from asses to mouths rather indiscriminately.

I don't typically want to suck a dick that has been in an ass if it hasn't been washed off first, but no one else seemed to mind. Some of the cocksuckers would even take it directly out of an ass and into their mouth. That came with the territory, I guess, in this anally-dominated world. But it wasn't really my thing. However I did have to admit that everything was actually pretty clean there. These bottoms knew what they were doing, and they showed up fully prepped and properly cleaned. I hadn't seen any visual residue, either on myself or anywhere else. I decided to throw caution to the wind and not let myself get hung up on it.

I stood at the front of the stage waiting for my opportunity. I was able to suck the other guy that I hadn't been able to access before. I also touched his tight, smooth body. I think I liked that even better than sucking his dick. And I was able to touch and suck the other guy some more as well. I moved back and forth between the two of them for a bit.

This was all well and good, but honestly what I really wanted was to be up on the stage myself. I wanted to be up there in front of everyone, and I wanted strangers to be indiscriminately touching me and sucking my dick. But I didn't know if it was allowed since I hadn't signed up and I didn't have an LED mask. I thought about how it was a little silly to be concerned with overstepping bounds at this place where boundaries didn't much exist, but I was still reluctant. In a moment of bravery I decided to hop up there and see if anyone complained.

Being up on stage naked with my hard dick exposed to a packed house got me in my happy place. I was like a pig in heaven (as it were). It was great fun, and no one seemed to care whether I was authorized to be up there or not. The two hot boys took virtually no notice of me. But by the same token no one was flocking to suck my dick. One or two guys grabbed it or took a taste, but that was it.

But then an Asian guy stepped forward and started sucking me. He was doing a good job of it, and he was really getting into it. He didn't show any signs of stopping, so it went on for quite a while as I stood up there on stage where everyone could see. It was the kind of thing I live for. I put my hands up above my head, as if in victorious celebration, kind of like Rocky after he ran up to the top of the steps in the movie. I felt so very naked. The guy kept going for a good long time, but eventually he moved on. Rather than wait to see if anyone else took a turn, I got back down on the floor with everyone else.

I worked the crowd a little longer, fucking a guy here and there until my dick went down, working it back up, and doing it again. It was all lots of fun, but it got to the point that it was becoming repetitive. And it looked like the crowd was starting to thin out. There had been a good critical mass of guys all night, but the truth was it wasn't quite as packed as I would have expected, and it now felt like the party was winding down. I didn't know what time it was, but I started thinking about finishing up and going home.

One thing that was conspicuously absent that night but I otherwise find ubiquitous in these kinds of events was the cumshot. I hadn't seen anyone blow their load all night, and I hadn't seen the aftermath anywhere. There were no slippery puddles of cum on the floor here and there, nothing dripping off anyone's face, and basically no evidence anywhere that anyone had let loose.

That left me wondering what to do. Going into the bathroom and squirting into the sink was an option, but I felt I could do better. I wound back up at the front of the stage. The two young hung slim guys were still up there, still hard after all this time. I didn't suck them again, but rather just enjoyed watching them, their lean bodies, and their big hard dicks. It was arousing to me, and I was stroking my own dick.

Someone up by the stage had some poppers, so I helped myself to a whiff. That got my brain where I needed it to be. Poppers always make me want to cum. I worked my dick harder, which got it stiffer. I got some more lube to make it all slippery again. I watched the boys some more. They were in their glory up there naked for the crowd to see, exhibiting their big boners proudly. I especially like it when they weren't getting sucked or stroking themselves, so their hard dicks just stood out into space where I could really get a good look at them. Seeing a dick remain stiff without any stimulation out there where you can see it is a huge turnon for me.

At one point one of the boys walked up to the other to say something to him. They were both naked beside each other, both with their hard dicks sticking out visible without obstruction. Then came the moment when one of them leaned in and his dick crossed in front of the other, and maybe even brushed up against it. This was what I needed. Seeing both dicks together in such close proximity pushed me over the edge. I pounded my hard dick feverishly, and it was only a couple of seconds before I came. I closed my eyes and let it flow out of me, one squirt after another. I don't know at what point I stopped squirting, but I continued stroking my dick as it kept throbbing. I made the orgasm last as long as I could.

When I finally stopped stroking my dick I looked down and saw that I had left quite a puddle on the floor. It was the biggest load I had blown in a while. I hoped it was far enough under the front of the stage that it was out of the way and would not create a slip & fall risk for anyone. It was the only cum I saw anywhere all night. But I didn't stick around to see if it was a problem.

I was in that purgatory state where it was time to go home, but I didn't want to put my clothes back on just yet. I wandered naked around the space just a little longer, but eventually slinked back to the clothes check to reclaim my stuff. There was virtually no line. When I got my brown paper bag I immediately unrolled my jeans, and to my relief my car key was indeed still there. As much as I would have liked to walk back to my car in my jockstrap, I reluctantly put my clothes back on.

I was really hungry, so on the walk back to the car I stopped into the local pizza joint for a slice. I ate it as I walked, but took a moment to snap a picture to remember the fun night I just had. And this was just the first night of 10.

Saturday, November 30

The event this day was a pool party hosted at "The Mansion" which was a gay guesthouse in Wilton Manors. I wasn't entirely in the mood for it. I was still a little burnt out from the bodacious party the night before, and the weather was overcast and chilly. Not great for a pool party. But having spent the money I did for the full access pass, I was determined to at least make an appearance at every event.

I rode my standup scooter so I didn't have to worry about parking. It was a daytime event so there were no issues with riding after dark. When I arrived I found that there was a folding table outside the facility with Pig Week volunteers. I showed them myy dog tag, and I was immediately allowed entry. The clothes check was right inside the door. I stripped down to my Speedo, and the guys handing out the brown paper bags teased me that it left me overdressed. I said that it probably wouldn't be staying on long, but I wanted to leave it on to make my entrance.

I came out to the pool deck to find that the guest house was rather swanky, if a bit modest in scale. There were stylish hotel rooms on either side of a central courtyard that had two long, narrow, longitudinal swimming pools. There were a couple of the free-standing slings set up on the portico outside the buildings. Down at the far end they had set up the open bar, and off to the side back there was a hot tub. Behind the buildings at the back was some open space that was being used as the play area. Despite the fact that not a lot of guys were playing, it was still a little cramped back there.

I stood there and scoped out the scene. The overcast, chilly weather put a bit of a damper on my mood, but it didn't seem to be affecting the other people. They were all drinking, talking, and carrying on. I felt kind of alone. The event the night before was all about roaming around and fucking strangers. I was fully a part of that scene. But this event was much more social. Everyone was engaged in spirited conversation. That left me standing there all by myself. I didn't know a soul there, and I was too inhibited to strike up a conversation with strangers.

I mentioned earlier that without alcohol I use nudity as my social lubricant. It helps, but it still has limitations. Ordinarily I stand out at gatherings as being one of the younger, more fit guys there, which gives me the confidence to be a little more bold than I would be otherwise. At Pig Week, that was totally not the case. There were a ton of guys younger and hotter than me. I was just another penis in the crowd.

Plus I didn't entirely feel like I belonged. I mean, I paid my money and had every right to be there, but I wasn't truly part of the leather scene. I felt a little like everyone else there was a member of a club, and I was an outsider who was only there for the nudity and the uninhibited sex. Those factors combined to undermine what little confidence I might otherwise have had. And furthermore, everyone I saw was already engaged in conversation. It was like they all already knew each other. Going up to someone I don't know is hard enough, but butting in on people who were already talking was way outside of my comfort zone.

If social interaction didn't hold much promise that day, I figured I would sublimate it with sex. I took off the Speedo and worked my way around the space again. I saw my naked body in the reflection in the windows on either side of the pool, which woke up my inner exhibitionist. I tweaked my nipples a little bit to perk up my dick, which responded fairly well and swelled up a bit. This started to get me a little more in the mood. The problem was, there just wasn't much sex to be had. The handful of slings weren't getting a lot of activity, and I wasn't really in the mood to fuck anyone anyway, at least not yet. The play area out back didn't have an awful lot of play going on. I pretty quickly gave up on sexual activity being able to kill much time.

So with nothing better to do I just sort of skulked about and people-watched. I saw a few people that I recognized from the night before. The guy with the abnormally fat dick was there. He sucked me a little, which was nice, and this time he didn't ask for reciprocation, but that only kept me occupied for a couple of minutes. I also saw some new faces, or at least people I didn't remember having seen the night before.

I dipped my toe into one of the pools. The water was really cold. A ton of guys were in the other pool. I wondered how they could stand it, but someone pointed out to me that the other pool was heated. I guess the place had one pool hot and the other pool cold for whatever reason. I checked the heated pool and found that it was indeed pretty warm. But I wasn't ready to get wet just yet.

I took another stab at finding some action. I walked past the slings again. The opportunity to do some fucking was there, but after the overdose the night before I just wasn't really into anal sex that day. I went out back to the play area a couple of times, but no one was paying me much attention. One guy did give me a spirited blowjob, but he was really just fluffing me up so I could fuck him. When he turned around and bent over I said I wasn't topping that day. He was disappointed, but he just moved along and tried to find someone else who would. That was about it. I pretty much gave up on finding any sex that day.

I went back out to the pool deck. I was beginning to feel a little frustrated. There just wasn't anything for me at this party. The weather was off, the action was disappointing, and I didn't feel included in any of the social interaction. I was well aware of the fact that I was not emanating the right kind of energy to attract others to me, either sexually or socially. I know how to turn on the charm, but it's not a switch I can flip. I just wasn't in the mood for this party, and it showed. If it had been sunny and warm then my disposition would have been warmer in kind, but I was feeling as dreary as the day was. You get back what you put in, and I had been putting out an aura of apathy that was now turning to negativity, so I wasn't really surprised that things weren't going my way. I didn't see it getting much better. There just wasn't much I could do about it.

Once I kind of resigned myself to the fact that this party was going to be a dud for me, I figured at least I would take a little advantage of the facility. First thing was to warm up a little by climbing into the hot tub. That's also a setting where it's easier to break into the conversation. There were only a couple guys in there, and they were silent and stone faced. I tried to get a little chat going, but no one really responded. I enjoyed the warm water for a while, but I quickly got bored and was back out after just a few minutes.

While I was still wet I jumped into the heated pool. The water was warm and inviting, but there wasn't a lot of space in there. I had never seen such a narrow pool. It was full of people who were sipping cocktails and chatting. There wasn't really any room to swim. I went up and down the length of the pool a couple of times, but that got old real quick. I looked to see if there was any potential to interject into any of the conversations, but that didn't look promising either.

I got out of the pool and dried off. I strolled up and down the pool deck again, loitered in the play area a while, but quickly concluded that I just wasn't going to be getting any action that day. I decided I would just pack it in and go home. When I went over to where my Speedo was I saw the little bottle of poppers I had brought with me. I thought that before I left, I would take a couple whiffs just to manufacture a bit of a sexy vibe while I was in the midst of all that charged up male nudity.

I went out onto the catwalk between the pools. I looked at my naked reflection in a window and tweaked my nipples a little bit. When my dick had started to inflate, I huffed on the poppers bottle. In a few seconds I could feel it infusing my whole body. It's amazing how the effect of that drug just instantly makes me feel like a dirty slut. I worked up my dick and gazed around the scene of men who were all there to indulge their piggy nature and have unrestrained public sex. It made me harder, and I stroked my dick right out there in front of everyone.

After just a minute or two of this, someone approached me. He was a tall, muscular, hung black man who in my opinion was the bell of the ball. I never would have had the nerve to approach him, but he walked right up to me and asked if he could suck my dick. Of course I said yes. He got on his knees and proceeded to give me a great blowjob. I looked down at all his muscles and his beautiful dark skin, and how hot he was and how he was the one who was sucking me. It was a wonderful turn on.

As is typical with these interactions, it didn't last long before he was ready to move on to other adventures. But as he got up he gave me a big smile. I complimented him on his technique, and how he was by far the hottest guy there. He appreciated that. At this point I was ready to just pound one out and leave, but now other guys started approaching me. I was getting lots of touch and some sucking. It was the kind of action I had been missing all day up to that point.

I theorized that my energy had changed, and now I was putting out a vibe that others started responding to. I chalked it up to the poppers. In my head I was still just alone in a group of people, but now I was feeling sexy. That sexy energy started emanating out into the space, and others were picking up on it, either consciously or subconsciously, which resulted in them being drawn to me. That might be metaphysical bullshit, but all I know is that I was finally starting to have a little fun.

This was all well and good, but I had kind of already made up my mind that it was time to go home. As soon as things slowed down a little bit I decided that rather than go hunting for more I would just finish off. I went back up to where my towel was and laid it out to catch my cum. I then started pounding away with the intent of finishing. It didn't take long. But just as I started to reach the edge, another guy came up and propositioned me. I tried to stop so that he could have a go, but the irrevocable buildup to orgasm had already begun. I told him he was just a second too late at virtually the same moment that I started squirting. He was disappointed that he didn't have a chance to have a taste first, but he was happy to at least see the show.

I took another quick stroll around the pool deck while I still had raw sexuality circulating through my body, and to enjoy another minute or two of explicit nudity before I got dressed and joined the regular world. I retrieved my brown paper bag, threw on some clothes, packed up my stuff, and exited.

As I was heading out on my scooter, I took a moment to reflect on the juxtaposition of the outside world I was now traveling through and the spectacle that was still going on behind me. Pedestrians, motorists, and other passers-by were oblivious to what was happening just yards away. Society at large has no idea what goes on behind closed doors in the gay world. That more or less applies to gay life in general, but Pig Week really turns it up to eleven, and beyond. I went back to my little trailer and took it easy for the rest of the day, my neighbors oblivious to the adventures I had been having, and the adventures that still lay ahead.

Sunday, December 1

This day was another pool party. The title was "Cum-One-Come-All" and the venue was the Ed Lugo resort, which was another gay guesthouse. This was not as new and clean and chic as the previous one, but it was more spacious. There was only one pool, but it was larger, and there was a waterfall at the far end. There was also a lot more yard space.

Once inside I made a beeline for the clothes check, and this time I stripped all the way down to bare naked. There was no pretense of a Speedo that day. It was just me and my bare skin head to toe. It was still a little on the chilly side, but at least there was some intermittent sunshine this day.

I milled around and checked out the space. I was still somewhat in the doldrums. It wasn't quite as bad as the day before, but I still felt kind of like an outsider. Most of the people there were sipping their drinks and socializing, and again I felt a little like everyone knew each other and I didn't know anyone.

I explored the grounds. There was an open bar at one end. The long line of guys waiting to get a drink stretched almost the whole length of the open courtyard. The other half of the compound was a fairly extensive yard space, mostly shaded under a canopy of trees above. It was kind of like a mini park back there. There was a hot tub up on a little platform under a pavilion, but the cover was on and it was not in use. Guys were leaning up against it and placing their drinks on the cover. There were also slings set up on the free-standing frames. This was obviously standard fare at these events. The Pig Week organization must have just had a collection of these things, ready to be set up at the various venues.

I wasn't sure if I was in the mood for sexual activity or not, but there wasn't much else to do. Once again it didn't look much like I was going to have anyone to talk to, so there weren't alot of alternatives. At least there was a lot more activity than the day before. The slings were already pretty full of guys wanting to be fucked, and plenty of tops fulfilling their needs.

I marveled at how everything here revolved around anal sex. I suppose that's pretty standard everywhere in the gay sex world, but it just seemed so much more so here. I much prefer good old fashioned oral sex. It feels good, it gets my cock aroused, it's safe, and it's clean. You don't need unerring erectile function, you don't get lube all over everything, and you don't need to worry about getting fecal matter on anything. It's easy peasy, no muss no fuss.

Although Pig Week was definitely dominated by anal sex, there were still plenty of blowjobs going on. The trick was finding someone who wanted to engage. It took a lot of patience to wait for someone to come along and offer to suck my dick. The few guys looking to suck a dick had a lot of other dicks to choose from.

Me sucking someone else's dick was also an option. Truth be told I do love sucking dick, even to the point that it's more stimulating to me than getting my own dick sucked. I would have been perfectly happy just spending the whole day giving blowjobs, but it's not that easy. I'm pretty selective when it comes to which dick I'll suck. Not only does the dick itself have to be appealing on some level, there's the matter of the body it's attached to.

If it's a hot cock on a hot body with a handsome face then it's a no-brainer. An average dick on a hot body has a relatively high probability. A hot dick on an average body is a maybe. An average dick on an average body is a probably not. And anything on an old and wrinkly body has a very low probability. Most of the guys there did not meet my criteria, but the sheer number of attendees meant that there was still no shortage of guys who did. Unfortunately most of them were engaged in anal sex. Getting or giving blowjobs was going to be a here & there thing at this event.

I wandered around among the slings. I tried to take in some secondhand sexual energy from all the fucking that was going on there. I tweaked my nipples and got my dick semi hard. I was starting to get into it a little bit, but I still wasn't ready to dive into the anal sex just yet, so I spent a fair amount of time looking for that elusive blowjob. I found myself on the little platform the unused hot tub was on. Standing on the front edge of that platform was a pretty good indication you were looking to get sucked. I got groped once or twice, and some guys would take a quick taste, but I just wasn't getting much.

I circulated back and forth between the slings and the pool for a while, basically killing time. I saw the unnaturally fat dick guy by the pool. He seemed to be the one regular that I bumped into at every event. He gave me a little head again, and again he didn't ask for reciprocation. I saw some guy who caught my attention. He was a white guy with a shaved head about my height but with a lot more muscle. He was bordering on too much muscle for a frame that size, but it still worked for him. At one point I overheard him talking to someone, and it sounded like he had a Russian accent. He was wearing a plain, white athletic jockstrap. I never saw him take it off, and I didn't see him interacting sexually much, so I didn't make a play for him.

I saw someone wandering around who appeared to be trans. The giveaway was the child-bearing hips. No amount of hormone therapy is going to change that. I assumed that there was nothing wrong with a trans guy being at the event. This was an "anything goes" affair after all. But I was curious if I was right that he was trans, and if so, curious to see what kind of reception he got, so I followed him around a bit. He was bare chested but wearing tight black trunks. I didn't get close enough to see if there were top surgery scars, but based on the package, or lack thereof, and the generally feminine structure of the face, I was quite sure he was trans. He didn't seem to be engaging directly in any sex acts, but was circulating all around the party, and no one seemed to be taking any exception to his presence.

I loitered around the slings for a while to see if I could get anything going. There was a slim Asian guy who caught my fancy, and we interacted a little bit. I even sucked his dick, not caring if it had been in an ass or not. There was a slender young fellow who had a bottle of lube in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. He had written "Load Count" across his shoulders, and had tally marks on his back. I thought that was clever. He had a lot of hash marks. I wondered if he was truly counting the number of times guys came inside him, or if it was just the number of times he had been fucked, or if it was all just a gimmick. He was actively being courted by others so I didn't try to add myself to the list.

By this point I decided I might as well take the plunge and start engaging in anal sex. There was never a wait for that. I didn't need to be patient. Unlike oral sex, I wasn't terribly picky about whose ass I fucked. A hole is a hole. I just had to walk the gauntlet of slings until I found someone who wasn't actively being fucked. I was able to work my dick up and stick it in, but once again I couldn't keep it hard while I was fucking.

I was went through that cycle through a few more times, using my hand to get hard, inserting it in an ass, and then fucking until it went soft. I wished I had a Viagra tablet. That would have put a very different spin on the day. I wasn't as enthusiastic as I had been the first night, but more so than at the dreary pool party the day before. If I had something to keep me hard, I could have gotten fully into the spirit of the party. The thought of it got me kind of excited, actually.

I knew that I had considered bringing a Viagra tablet with me, but I couldn't remember if I did or not. There was also a chance I just had one in my backpack left over from some other previous random outing. I retrieved the bag from the clothes check in hopes that I did have something stashed away in there. I dug around through all the pockets, but unfortunately there was nothing to be found. That was disappointing. I had finally started getting in the swing of things. This would have really jazzed me up. I could have kept going without one, but I knew my performance would continue to be off. That kind of led me to give up on the sex for the day. There just wouldn't be enough oral sex opportunities to keep me occupied.

I took a dip in the pool. The water was nice and warm. It was nice having the waterfall splashing on my shoulders. And it was nice feeling the water flowing all in and around my naked body. But I got bored of that pretty quickly. I got back out and dried off.

I circulated back around the sling area once more, and I got my last call of what little sexual activity I was finding back there. I got groped once or twice, but I decided I wasn't going to try to fuck anyone again. It wasn't long before I concluded that was it for me that day. I got my clothes back on and headed home.

There was a fisting tutorial that evening at Clubhouse II, followed by a Muscle Pig Play Party. I had been wanting to check out Clubhouse II. It was a facility not far from where I lived right on Oakland Park Blvd, and I had been curious what it was like inside. But I decided that I wasn't too much into watching guys get fisted. Just the thought of it was a little much for me. Actually watching it made me feel uncomfortable, even if the fistee was loving it. And despite the fact that I wanted to see what Clubhouse II was all about, I decided to stay in. There was another opportunity on the schedule later in the week.

There was also the Pig Ball at The Eagle, a leather bar on Wilton Dr. That one I didn't even consider attending. It was just drink specials, and I knew it would just be a bunch of guys drinking in a bar. I was not in the mood for that, and it started too late anyway.

Monday, December 2

Today was the party at 321 Slammer. The "welcome package" for Pig Week included the admittance/disclaimer form that was required for entry. They distributed it ahead of time so that attendees could have it filled out when they arrived for more expedient entry. The official event name was "Jocks and Cocks Party" and it was scheduled to start at 8PM. I decided to be on time for this one, or actually a little early.

This time I took a Viagra before I even left the house. I knew the party would be dominated by anal sex like all the other parties had been so far, but this time I chose to embrace it. I had never been to The Slammer before, but it had quite the reputation, and I knew the sex would be off the hook. I left any reticence at home and headed out ready to fuck some ass. And I knew the Viagra would keep me hard all night long. I was very excited.

I rode my scooter. I don't like to take that out after dark, but I knew that there would be basically no parking, so I had to bite the bullet. The trip was uneventful, although I was vexed by people who illegally parked in the bike lane. In the daytime that would have been an annoyance, but after dark it was a hazard. The little headlight on the scooter was enough for other people to see me, but it didn't illuminate much that was in front of me. I had to keep a keen lookout so I didn't plow into the back of any parked cars.

I arrived around 7:45 and locked my scooter to the chain link fence out front. There was already a line to get in, but fortunately it wasn't that long yet. At first I thought it was moving very, very slowly, but I quickly realized it wasn't moving at all. Apparently they were sticking to the 8:00 start time, and were not letting anyone in. Staff kept going up and down the line giving out forms to anyone who didn't have one, and making sure that everyone had theirs filled out. I was sure to fill mine out back at home and bring it with me, but it was kind of moot because I could have filled one out on the spot like most everyone else was doing.

It was a long 15 minute wait, made worse by the fact that it was cold out. Ordinarily I could have pulled out my cell phone and passed the time by scrolling content, but I had chosen to leave it at home. I wasn't sure why. A voice was just telling me it would be better not to bring it. I had originally considered just locking my shirt and pants up with my scooter to avoid having to get a locker, but their site said you needed to be properly dressed when entering and leaving the establishment. It was a little cold out for that anyway.

While I stood there I got to perpetually check out the guy in front of me. He was about my height, a little broader, but it looked like he was all lean muscle. Most importantly, he had a nice haircut. That's become more important to me the older I get. I like a nice, trim, boyish cut, and that's what this guy had. I kind of wanted to chat him up, but he wasn't looking like the talkative type.

Finally the line started moving. I looked back behind me and saw that a ton more guys had shown up. The line now stretched all the way to the back of the parking lot. It was a good thing that I got there when I did or I would have had a very long wait ahead of me. Those with dog tags could cut the line only if they didn't need a locker or a cell phone check. Apparently they were confiscating cell phones even if you were going to get a locker. They were pretty militant about no photography inside.

The line moved pretty slowly. They would only let so many guys inside at one time so that the front desk didn't get overwhelmed. The anticipation grew as we crept along step by step. When I got to the front the only thing my dog tags allowed me to skip was the table where they were taking money for the people who didn't pre register.

Once I finally got inside I saw that the guy at the desk was indeed taking cell phones and putting them into little baskets that got locked up separately. When I got up to the window I showed my dog tag and asked for a locker. He didn't even ask me if I had a cell phone even though he'd been asking everyone else. I was aware that there would be an additional charge for locker rental, but I didn't know how much. I was feeling a little cheap considering how much I forked over for the all-access pass. I was afraid I would get gouged. But it turned out it was just $5, plus a $5 deposit on the key that you would get back when you returned it. I handed over a $10 bill and the guy handed me a key and buzzed me inside.

Part of the charm of these establishments is the lost confusion you feel immediately inside the door as you try to navigate an unfamiliar space. A labyrinthine quality is desirable because it adds to the mystery, and enhances the sensation of prowling for sexual conquests like hunting for prey. But usually the locker room is the first thing you encounter. In this case it was nowhere to be found. I actually had to ask. It turned out to be way in the back. It was a little unusual to be walking through the space fully clothed. There was actually signage, but it was still a little hard to find. But eventually I was able to make my way there.

It was a relief to strip down and get my naked going. I was bare except for my sneakers. As always, I brought a combination lock so I could secure my locker without having to have a key jingling around my arm the whole night. Everyone else was in the conventional uniform of a jockstrap and harness top, but I was much more comfortable wearing nothing at all.

I explored the space. It was definitely a maze. There were twisty corridors with little cubbies, rooms, and other play spaces. Continuing past all that, I came to a large open room in the back. It was set up for oral sex. In the middle was a balcony raised just high enough that guys' dicks would line up with the mouths of the cocksuckers at floor level. At the near end were steps to get up on the balcony, on either side were glory hole booths, and the far end was open with just a railing separating to the space below.

I immediately went up there to get the dick sucking started. Unlike the previous couple of days, I was ready and raring to go. But when I got to the open railing I saw that there was a propane fireplace on the far wall below. I was still chilled to the bone, and it wasn't terribly warm inside the building, so I went right back down the steps and over there to stand in front of it and try to warm up. A couple other guys were there too, also trying to warm up. We had a friendly chat about how cold we were.

As I stood there trying to get warm by the fire, the Viagra kicked in and my dick started to get hard without me even stimulating it. I love the early stage of a Viagra high when the dick just gets hard and stays hard all on its own. And I enjoyed having a big boner out in the open while people walked past and everyone could see it.

That's another reason I prefer to be fully naked, because there's nowhere to hide. When your dick gets hard it's just totally out there for everyone to see, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's what most people would consider to be the most vulnerable possible state, being naked and aroused and fully exposed with no way to cover up. But for me it's totally empowering, because I don't want to cover up. It makes me feel like I've conquered a fear that almost everyone else has. And that just turns me on all the more. Having everyone see my stiff dick, and me seeing that they're seeing it, just makes it all the stiffer. And that's what was going on at that exact moment, and it was very stimulating. And what was better, I was casually chatting with other guys about how cold we were while I was fully naked and fully erect as people casually walked past and everyone could see. It was a great way to kick off the evening.

I was anxious to get out there and start playing, but I didn't want to go away from the warm fire. If they had the heat on in this place, they had it set pretty low. I figured that as more guys came in and the action heated up that the space would also heat up literally, but for now it remained chilly. I got groped once or twice by passers-by as I watched the action up on the glory hole balcony. Before long the desire to join in outweighed the desire to stay warm. I left the fireplace and went up on the balcony.

There was some ass fucking going on up there, which I felt was a little invasive of a space that was designated for oral sex, but that was the standard fare pretty much everywhere in Pig Week, so I shrugged it off. It didn't really matter because it was pretty easy for me to get my dick sucked up there anyway. Some guys sucked it right there on the balcony. I stuck it in through the glory holes and got more blowjobs from the guys in the booths. What was all well and good, but I went back to the railing because over there everyone could see me getting my dick sucked. That appealed to my exhibitionistic nature. The guy with the unnaturally thick dick was down there, and he gave me a nice suck.

That went on for a good long while, but eventually it was time to head back out and fully explore the facility. The layout was indeed confusing. I found my way to the bar space, which was up front by the entrance/exit. From there, going back through the meandering corridors you could go one way to the locker room, or the other way to the glory hole room. As I explored I found that there were also a couple of restrooms, one of which had a shower stall.

I also chanced upon a nondescript entrance to a whole other space. Inside there off to the left was another glory hole balcony with a raised part around the perimeter and booths in the center. To the right was the anal sex room. There were large benches along the outer walls for guys to kneel on and get fucked from behind. There was also a large, round bench in the center of the room full of guys on their knees with their heads in the center and their butts facing out around the circumference. I thought of it as the anal carousel. I had never really seen a configuration like that before. There was a lot of anal sex going on in this room. A lot. Even by Pig Week standards, this room was just one big mass of ass fucking.

Despite the fact that I was psyched for some anal fucking, I wasn't ready to get messy just yet, so I exited that space. I decided to attempt to better familiarize myself with the overall layout so I wasn't constantly getting turned around and lost. I made my way back up to the bar. I figured I could use that as my anchor point to orient myself to where I was in the building relative to it, and branch out from there repeatedly until I could navigate to specific destinations unerringly.

But while I was there, I took a moment to check out the bar space. I had heard that there was a bar in the Slammer, but it was a little confusing to me as to how that integrated with the sex club nature of the setup. It turned out it was just another part of the space, there just happened to be a bar instead of slings or glory holes. Most of the people were sitting on stools and enjoying their drinks, albeit in harness tops and jockstraps, but people were also fucking and sucking in there. It was a weird combination, but it was also like fantasy material. I had also heard that this was a BYOB establishment, where you bring your own booze, hand it over to the bartender, and they pour you drinks from it. I assumed that was how they avoided having to get and maintain a liquor license. But on this night there was a supply of drinks provided by the Pig Week staff. It was all moot to me since I don't drink anyway.

Before I set out, I took the opportunity to ask a bartender if I could go barefoot in there or if it was required that I wear shoes. He said of course I could be barefoot, like it was silly to ask. That gave me a mission in learning the space, to find my way back to the locker space so I could lock up my shoes and socks. It was made a bit easier by the signage. I tossed them in the locker and headed back out into the space.

It was SO MUCH BETTER being barefoot. I'm not entirely sure what the appeal is for me. People who are into "grounding" say that it's like grounding an electrical circuit. They believe there is a transfer of electrical energy from the body into the ground, and the release of the negative electrical charge purges the negative energy from the body. I think that's a bunch of horse shit, but I have to say that I find benefits to being barefoot that seem to go beyond mere comfort.

Part of it for me, at least when I'm otherwise naked, is being fully bare naked right down to the bare feet. It's best when I don't have on even the most minimal shred of clothing or other man-made objects like shoes. They call it a "birthday suit" for a reason. When I'm completely naked it's just me and my skin out there with no worldly possessions to encumber me, like when I first came out of the womb. For a moment I can take a break from the burden that civilization places on us, where we are constantly dependent on all manner of objects that we manufacture for ourselves. I can toss all that away and be free of it for a time. It's positively primal. And in situations like this, it facilitates the primal urge to indulge my sexual desires.

I continued my exploration, trying to map out in my head the layout of the space. I found that there were essentially two paths from the bar in the front of the building to the glory hole gallery in the rear. Between these two corridors were the cubby spaces and rest rooms. That was pretty much it. The zigzagging nature of the corridors, and the fact that the two of them created a circular path, were what made it all so confusing. Once I got that down I was much better at finding my way around.

Now that I had the layout of the place pretty well down it was time for more action. I saw the black guy I had connected with the first night. We had since found each other on Grindr, and he expressed excitement to be fucked by me again that night, but every time I passed him he barely acknowledged me. Back in the glory hole room I saw the guy who had been in front of me in line outside. He was wearing a jockstrap, and he did indeed have as nice a body as it appeared when he was clothed. He was engaged with another one of the patrons who was touching his body and dick, and blowing him. He was not terribly well endowed, maybe a little below average, but it was still good enough for me to suck. I was in the mood to have a dick in my mouth, and I had been wanting to interact with him since I first saw him in line, but the other guy was pretty well monopolizing him. I didn't have the patience to try to weasel into the action, so I moved along and hoped I might have a chance later in the night.

I turned my attention to the anal sex that was going on up on the glory hole balcony. I hadn't intended on joining in, but I saw the kid from the day before who was keeping the load count on his back in Sharpie. I wondered if he had started fresh this day, or if it was the same count as the day before. All I knew was that I was suddenly inspired to fuck him myself. At the moment he was being fucked by another guy. I stood by waiting my turn, but it went on for a long time. When they finally did separate, the kid just sort of moved past me to go on to another part of the party. It felt a little like he deliberately avoided me.

I try not to take it personally when I get rejected in these situations. If you're going to play in these spaces you need to accept that you're not going to be everybody's cup of tea. I like to think I'm pretty desirable in terms of my fit body and fat dick, but not everyone is into well-proportioned smooth physiques. But it can still make me question myself. Bathhouses are pretty much my territory, but at these leather events I'm essentially a guest. As I stated at the beginning of this tale, I'm not really into the leather scene. I'm there to get naked, to get sucked, maybe to do a little sucking, and to fuck anyone who wants to get fucked. At least anyone wants to get fucked by me.

Guys in the leather scene are looking for take-charge leather daddy tops. Those guys put out a very particular energy. Their very poise and demeanor says, "I'm gonna fuck your brains out and you're gonna love it." You can see it from a mile away. And that's what these leather bottoms want. But I don't put out that energy, and I never will. It's just not who I am. Some guys still want me to fuck them, because either aren't tuned into the energy, or they don't care because they want my thick cock inside them. But other guys do pick up on it. They can tell from a mile away that I'm not the guy they're looking for. I'm not the guy they want to be fucked by. I got the feeling that the load count kid was one of them. I think he saw me and sized me up quick. All I know was that I got the distinct feeling that I would not be fucking him that night.

But even though I had apparently been rejected by this one bottom, or maybe because of it, I decided that I was now in the mood to do some fucking. There was only so much oral sex to be had there, and I'd had about as much as I was going to get. I decided I was going to go back to the side room and take a spin around the anal carousel. But now I couldn't find it. What had been a complicated and labyrinthine space when I first arrived was now really just a linear path from the bar back to the locker room and fireplace room, and I somehow could not find that other room. I went back and forth over and over on both paths, but the other room was nowhere to be found. It was almost like a Twilight Zone moment where it had just disappeared from existence. But finally I was able to find it. The doorway in was so unremarkable that I kept walking right past it over and over, not realizing that it was in fact the entrance to that wing.

I went directly to the anal carousel, and I did so with purpose. It was now pretty crowded in there. This was where the most unadulterated anal sex was going on, and the party was in full swing. My dick was fully erect, still enjoying the benefits of the Viagra. I kind of had to worm my way into the crowd to find an available ass. These guys had literally turned their back on the tops that were in there. They just wanted to be fucked, and they didn't care who was fucking them. No one cared if I had leather daddy top energy or not. They were taking any cock that was willing to go inside them.

Now it was my turn to be indiscriminate. I decided I was going to just go from one ass to the next. And that's exactly what I did. I walked up to the carousel and started fucking the first available ass I could find. Once I had given him the feel of my cock up his butt, I moved on to the next one. I wasn't even really looking at who I was fucking. I was just working my way down the assembly line. I stuck it in one hole, and then the next hole, and then the next, on and on. Once I had worked my way around the carousel I took my turn at the guys on the periphery. And once again I didn't take any notice of who I was fucking. It was just a lineup of holes to stick my dick inside of. One guy in particular seemed to be particularly enjoying what I had to offer, so I stayed with him just a little longer. But soon enough it was time to move on to the next one.

I got into a zone while I was in there. It was a zone I had never really been in before, because I had never fallen so deeply into such an anal orgy. Typically, each time I fuck a guy, it's an individual experience. I don't discriminate too much on whose ass I fuck, but each fuck session has a beginning, a middle, and an end. This time it was an almost seamless progression of insertion and humping with virtually no delineation between encounters. It was a veritable jambalaya of anal copulation with one coupling almost indistinguishable from the next.

And while I was in this zone I began to understand the energy that this writhing mass of sodomy was generating. It was more than a lot of dicks entering a lot of asses. It was a sharing. These participants were experiencing sharing on a level that those who have not experienced it themselves could ever comprehend. They were not only sharing this vast volume of sexual interactivity, they were sharing a deep level of trust among each other. Unprotected anal sex brings with it a certain level of risk. In this age of PreP and undetectable viral loads the risk isn't what it used to be, but therein lies the trust. There was a pervasive trust that everyone was playing responsibly, a profound faith that things were safe and that everyone would be okay, and ultimately they were sharing a disregard of the risks of consequences. While that trust and faith may have been misplaced, and the disregard may have been inadvisable, it all existed nonetheless. It existed in this space, it was shared among all these participants, and it created a brotherhood among them. The orgy of penile insertion and fog of sexual ecstasy were the primeval stew in which this amalgamation of energies could be incepted. And for the first time in my life, I was a part of it, and I could perceive it. It really was the true meaning of Pig Week.

After having bathed in the transcendental experience of the anal orgy for a time, I exited that space. I milled around the whole facility, popping into the other spaces here and there. I had some more anal sex, but this time on a more incidental level. I saw the black guy again, and this time I grabbed him and said he better take his chance before I was ready to leave. With my dick still full of Viagra I was able to give him a good stiff fucking. He was loving it.

After I was done with the black guy I went back to meandering around the facility, just hopping from one interaction to the next, or just meandering around the space. This went on for quite a while, like an hour or more. I was really enjoying the party. But eventually it got to the point where it was starting to get late, I was getting tired, and most of all I had become quite hungry. I was still enjoying myself, but I started thinking about wrapping things up for the night.

I wanted to finish myself off, but once again I wasn't sure where to deposit my load. It remained a unique quality of these events that I didn't see anyone squirting anywhere. I found my way to one of the restrooms so I could unload in the sink and not make a mess. Doing it in the bathroom was perversely apropos. I started pounding my meat while people came and went to actually use the toilet or urinal. Some of them were making wry remarks about wanting to join in or receiving my output, but I pretty much ignored them. At this point it was just a biological function I had to perform so I didn't have blue balls the next day.

Typically my dick tells me when it's ready to blow, not the other way around. On many occasions I've been frustrated by not being able to get myself over the edge because I just wasn't ready yet. Ordinarily I know when it's time because I can feel myself starting to get close while engaging in sex acts, and then it just becomes a matter of choosing when it's the right moment to play through and go all the way. But despite all the fun I'd been having, I didn't get close at any point all evening. I had been having lots and lots of sexual encounters that were perfectly stimulating, but never did I feel any of that tingling deep down that says it's starting to get near. So as I began pounding away there over the bathroom sink, I didn't know if I'd be able to finish the deed or not.

I started to experience something that I hadn't really felt before. It was like a different kind of pounding. Typically I take a lighter touch, softly stroking myself, but this time I had a firm grip on my shaft, and I was pumping it fast and furious without stopping. That was not necessarily anything new, I had taken this approach before, but not to this degree, and the resulting sensation I was experiencing sort of was new. I was really getting into the pounding action. In a way it was sort of mechanical. I was sort of telling my dick, "You're going to cum whether you want to or not. I'm going to beat it out of you, and I'm not taking no for an answer this time." And after a while my dick started responding. It was like, "Okay, you win. I can see you're not going to stop. Keep going and I'll blow for you."

I took a moment and considered exactly where I was. I was stark naked in the men's room of a seedy sex club pounding my stiff, thick cock while people walked in and out and watched. That recognition alone helped move things along. I finally did start feeling that tingling, and when I did, I didn't let up. I didn't pause to savor the moment and try to make it last. I kept on pounding hard and fast until I was squirting. It wasn't the most fulfilling orgasm I'd ever had, but I was emptying the tank like I needed to.

When it was all done I stood there quivering for a spell. It was the moment of post-nut clarity when you realize where you are. I had just had that realization moments before, which was what helped get me over the edge, but now I was like, "Wow, I really am stark naked in the bathroom of a seedy sex club, and I just blew my load in front of a bunch of people."

I could have wandered around a little longer, enjoying being naked in the space and soaking up the sexual energy that was still at high volume, but more than anything else I was really hungry and needed to get some food. At least now I could easily find my way directly back to the locker room. I put my clothes back on and went through the bar and to the exit. The guy dutifully refunded me my $5 upon return of the key, and I stepped outside.

No one had messed with my scooter while I was in there. It was waiting for me right where I had left it. I unlocked it and headed back, popping into the Circle-K I passed to grab something to eat when I got home. Once back on the road I was again a little uneasy about riding the scooter after dark. At least on the return trip I was aware that there could be vehicles parked in the bike lane, but I had not really taken into account that there could also be debris in the road that I couldn't see. That was why I failed to avoid what I believe was the broken off neck of a glass bottle.

The front wheel rode up over it, breaking it into smaller pieces with the shrill sound glass makes when it shatters. I thought for sure this must have given me a flat tire, but at that point all I wanted to do was soldier on home. Even if it was flat I couldn't call for an Uber because this was the one time I had left my cell phone at home. The scooter seemed to be riding along fine, so I kept going.

But just as I was getting back to my RV park I noticed that it wasn't coasting freely. Before I crossed the road to the park entrance I stopped and checked the front tire. It was still firm and fully inflated. I thought maybe it was my imagination. So I continued on to my trailer and parked the scooter. It was when I knelt down to plug it in that I realized it was the rear tire that had gone flat. It must have been that the front tire broke the glass into shards, and then the rear tire got pierced when it ran over one of them. I knew that this was not going to be a quick fix, and that it would have a deleterious effect on my transportation for the remainder of the week. But in the moment I didn't let myself think about it. I just went inside, ate my food, chilled a bit, and then went to bed.

Tuesday, December 3

On this day there was a gathering at Sebastian Beach in the afternoon. I would have loved to have gone and seen these people in the daylight and parade around in my Speedo, but the fact that my scooter was out of commission made that impractical. I could have driven my car, but I didn't want to search for and pay for parking, so I just stayed home and missed out on the opportunity.

That night was the Big Muscle party back at The Slammer. I was a little surprised that the organizers scheduled two consecutive nights in the same venue, but that was what was on the calendar. Despite the fact that the previous night there had been the high point of the week so far, I decided I didn't want to go twice in a row. And the fact that my scooter wasn't available meant that I would have to Uber there due to the lack of parking, which would be an additional expense. I decided to just skip this event and have a quiet night at home recuperating.

Wednesday, December 4

The event this night was the Psycho Circus Party, held at The Manor dance club where the event the first night was held. I was really looking forward to this one. It was hyped up to be the pinnacle of the Pig Week festivities. The official website description read:

See the spectacle of insane circus acts while grinding on your fellow pigs. Imagine playing while watching strongman hand-balancing acts and other crazy visuals. Lots of demonstrations and special DJ Bryan Hukill / Underground Wilma. This is Pig Week’s Dirtiest Party. You are going to love it. Clothes check available. This party is one of the craziest nights of Pig Week. With tons of men and lots of surprises.

I was so up for it. Having had the previous night off, I was rested and refreshed and ready to go. I popped a Viagra before I left so that I would be able to walk around with a boner all night and fuck for as long as I wanted. It was scheduled to begin at 9:00. I wanted to be on time for it. I drove to my secret parking place and found a spot. Something told me to hide my key in the car instead of trusting it to the clothes check, just so I wouldn't have to worry about it. Then I hiked to the drive, and up to the venue. It was a bit of a walk, but worth it for the free parking.

There was a bit of a line outside the door when I arrived, but my dog tags allowed me to skip it and get whisked right in. Once inside I found that the room used for clothes check the first night was now set up as the sex room. Okay. There was a sign that said the clothes check was on the balcony. I was a little curious to see the balcony space because it had been blocked off the first night.

I went past the bar, through the intermediate space and into the cavernous dance hall. There was a line of guys going up the stairs to the balcony. The line was kind of annoyingly long, and this time my dog tags wouldn't allow me to skip it. I had to wait on the floor as we slowly progressed to the stairs, and then wait on the stairs as we slowly progressed to the balcony, and then wait on the balcony as we slowly progressed across to the table where they were checking clothes.

When I finally got there I saw a veritable ocean of brown paper bags that had already been filled and placed, and the night had just begun. When I finally got up to receive my bag I asked if I was allowed to go barefoot or if I had to wear shoes. The guy was clueless. I decided to keep my shoes on so I didn't get trampled, and so that I had socks to keep my ID and stuff in. Once I had disrobed I then had to wait for someone to come take my bag.

That all took quite a bit of time, but at least now I was free to roam the space completely naked. I went down to the dance floor first. The music was pounding and I swayed to it a bit, letting my dick wag back and forth. The whole space was set up for dancing. There were no slings around the periphery this time. There were also no picnic tables set up on the stage. I assumed it was kept clear for the circus acts later.

The place was starting to fill up, but still somewhat sparsely populated. I decided to go back up front to the sex room and see what was going on in there. The free-standing slings were set up on both side walls. There were already guys lying in them, some of them getting fucked. Back on the back wall was a riser where some guys were standing. I went back there, got up with them, and stood on the front edge, making my dick available for anyone who wanted to suck it.

It didn't take long before someone started sucking me. Unfortunately he wasn't doing a very good job. It was downright uncomfortable, frankly. I let it go on for a while in hopes he would improve, but he didn't. I finally got to the point where I pulled out and said, "Thank you." This is gay orgy code for "You're done." He moved along, and it wasn't long before someone else took his place. But this blowjob wasn't much better. I didn't let it go on for very long this time before I sent him packing. Then a third guy came up. He dragged his teeth along my shaft from the very start. It was painful. I immediately pulled right back out, saying "Ouch!" as I did so. I said it kind of loud so that he would be sure to hear. So far the night hadn't gotten off to a very good start. Three bad blowjobs in a row. I briskly exited the sex room.

Once back in the dance room I milled around a bit. Not much was going on, really. I wandered about the space for a while. It was pretty much the same scene as the first night, but judging by numbers alone I could tell that there were a lot of guys there who hadn't been at the previous events. The reputation of the Psycho Circus was apparently out there, and lots of guys were paying at the door to get in. But they were all wearing the same outfits and drinking the same drinks, groping and fucking each other in the same way, and were basically indistinguishable from the regulars.

I eventually found my way over to a side wall. There were guys lined up there who were getting their dicks sucked. I stood with my back against the wall, my swollen member out there for any takers. I did get a couple of blowjobs at this point, and thankfully they were all doing a pretty good job. I don't know why I got so many bad ones at first, but it appeared that that unpleasantness was behind me.

After the flow of cocksuckers ran dry I exited the dance space. There was a table set up in the intermediate space where they were promoting the Fornication Party Tour. They had some swag, which I wasn't interested in, but they were also giving away prizes for anyone who signed up for their email list. I figured I would take them up on this. I wanted to get on their list anyway so I could be notified of their parties, and I figured I might as well get something out of it. The guy at the table handed me a tablet to sign up on. The amount of data entry was actually rather extensive, and took me a little time, but soon I had my information submitted.

The guy told me that my prize was a free blowjob. He got down on his knees and sucked me a little. He was doing a good job, but I thought the prize would be more substantial. I mean, he could have sucked my dick anyway. But he soon got up and said he was just kidding. I got to spin the wheel they had set up to see what I won. I gave it a good whirl, and it landed on "free tickets." He handed me a "frequent fornicator" card, kind of like what you would get at a sub shop where after you make a certain number of purchases you get one free. All the spots had been punched, so it qualified for free admission at a future party. There was one coming up at The Slammer in early January. I actually thought this was a pretty good deal, because admission would otherwise be like $50. I slipped the card into my sock with my ID.

I wandered back to the sex room. Like the dance hall, this space was filling up. It was now a little harder to get around. I worked my way back to the riser and got back up on it. It was pretty crowded with guys, most of whom were anally fucking each other. No one was really giving me much attention, except maybe to shoot me a glance like I didn't really belong up there. It was another situation where they could seemingly tell I wasn't a true leather top daddy, and in this case wanted me to know their disdain. I remained there defiantly for a while, but quickly got bored and got back down.

As I was working my way up to the front of the room to get out, I somehow engaged in conversation with a chatty guy. It was kind of nice to actually talk with a person like a human being for a bit. We got a little catty about all the leather sub bottoms and top daddies. It was nice, but we were soon disrupted. There was a guy by the door to the room whose specific job it was to make sure that no one congregated at the entrance so that people could flow in and out. It was an important role to play, but he was kind of annoying about it, just barking out the same commands over and over to keep moving and don't stand where you're standing. Once he had cleared out all the primary blockers he then turned his sights on my conversation partner and me. We were pretty well off to the side, but the traffic cop decided we were deserving of his dictates, so we concluded our conversation and went our separate ways.

I found myself back out on the dance floor. No one was really dancing. They were just standing around, maybe groping one another, and maybe fucking. I saw the unnaturally fat dick guy yet again. He sucked me a little like normal, and again didn't ask for reciprocation.

Nothing was happening on the stage. There were no circus performers yet, and no one in LED masks entertaining the crowd. I was frankly getting a little bored. I felt like I had done this party before, and there was nothing new going on. The only difference was that it was more crowded. A lot more crowded. That was supposed to make it more festive, but all it really served to do was make it harder to move around. There just wasn't much for me to do except ping pong back and forth from the dance room to the sex room, all the while trying to navigate through the dense crowd. The smoking patios were closed, so that wasn't even an option for a place to go and have a little space. I didn't even bother to loiter in the restrooms.

At one point I walked my way back to the sex room, and as soon as I got there a dark-skinned black guy with big muscles and a big dick was just exiting. I decided I'd follow him to see where he was going. He walked directly though the intermediate space and back to the dance floor where I had just come from. I tried to get around in front of him so I could see his big dick, but he got lost in the crowd.

I then saw a well-proportioned, slender white guy who also struck my fancy. I decided to follow him. He was with someone, presumably his boyfriend, and they made a beeline for the stairs up to the balcony. I discreetly followed them up, but they went straight to the back of the balcony and lit cigarettes. Apparently that was the smoking section with the patios being closed. I didn't really want to come between them, and I didn't want to choke on their cigarette smoke, so I just went back downstairs.

I found my way back to the side wall and lined up with the guys getting their dicks sucked. I was able to get another decent blowjob or two. It was okay, but it was becoming old hat. I wandered around the dance space. Over on the other side I saw another guy who was totally bare naked like me. I wanted to say something to him, but I was feeling timid. I followed him around a bit. At one point he turned around and saw me, and he actually approached me. He was all smiles and really friendly. We exchanged a little sucky sucky, but then he moved off into the crowd.

Finally some circus performers showed up. It was an average height guy and a short guy both dressed up kind of like mimes. They bopped around the stage a little bit, not doing much of anything except trying to act entertaining. Then the average guy got on his back and propped up his hands. The short guy put his hands on the other guy's hands and did some balancing acts. Or tried to. It wasn't much to look at, and he was really shaky. He was finally able to achieve a handstand, again really shaky. It was like these guys had only had a couple lessons at this stuff.

Next they got out a couple of big rubber balls. The short guy hopped up on one and did that thing where you balance and walk backwards to make the ball go forward. He moved around the stage a little, very tentative the whole time. While he was doing this the average guy was acting like he was going to throw his ball like in dodgeball, but he never did let go of it. I was getting really underwhelmed by this whole performance.

Then the brought out a collapsible ladder. They made a real big deal out of extending it. The average guy held it while the short guy started climbing it. He got about half way up, and turned to the crowd like asking if he should dare to keep going. I found this rather silly. It wasn't even a very big ladder. It was like something you'd use to wash the outside windows on the first floor of a house. He did keep going all the way to the top. He put one hand on the top rung, and the other a couple rungs down, and he did this sideways, spread eagle handstand, again really shaky. He climbed back down and that was it. They took bows like they had just done something really amazing. In my opinion it fell far short of the promised "crazy visuals."

I was starting to get really disappointed with this whole event. So far there was nothing particularly crazy about the night. It was just a bunch of guys in harness tops and jockstraps packed into a dance club. With nothing better to do I made my way back to the sex room again. By now it was so packed you could barely move in there. I wormed my way back up to the riser, but there wasn't even much point in getting up there. I thought about maybe fucking someone in a sling, but everyone was already occupied.

There was a sexy, slim, Asian guy off to the side of the riser. He was receiving a spirited blowjob from some guy. I stood by his side and reached over. He didn't stop me. I enjoyed touching his smooth body. He had just enough muscle on him to make it interesting, and zero body fat. When the guy sucking him finally stopped I was able to take a turn. But before very long he pulled out and moved on. It was a nice encounter, but all too fleeting.

I exited the sex room past the guy shouting at people to keep it clear, and squeezed my way through the crowd in the intermediate space making my way back to the dance floor. I wandered around a little bit, but I was getting really bored with the whole thing. There just wasn't much happening. And I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the hassle it was to try to move around through this dense crowd. I tried to dance a little bit, wagging my dick around, but I wasn't in the mood. I finally decided to just pack it in and go home. It was still relatively early, but it just wasn't working for me.

But before I let my boner go to waste I went into the bathroom to shoot a load into the sink. Like the other night at The Slammer, I wasn't even sure I was going to be able to cum. I hadn't been anywhere close all night. I had barely seen any activity at all. But like the other night I did the thing where I pounded my meat hard and fast. Some people were checking me out and making remarks as they came and went from the bathroom, but I pretty much ignored them. It wasn't long before the pounding got me back into that same sensation here the mechanical nature of it communicated to my dick that it had to respond. And like the other night, it didn't take too long before I started feeling the sensation, and without pausing I kept it up until I eventually started squirting. Once again it wasn't a terribly satisfying orgasm, but it finished off the night for me.

I didn't even have a post-nut moment. I was done. I went straight back up to the balcony to retrieve my stuff. There was a short line of other guys doing the same. Even though it was still early, some others had left even before me. When I got up to the table I had this uneasy fear that they wouldn't be able to find my bag. It was a total jumble of brown paper bags, and the staff looked like they were having trouble sorting through it all. It wouldn't have actually mattered too much, considering I had my ID and stuff in my sock and had hidden the key in the car. But it would have meant hiking all the way back there naked. I personally wouldn't have minded a bit, but the passers-by and law enforcement may have taken exception to it. But it was a moot point because a guy did come up with my bag without too much of a delay.

Once I had my shirt and pants back on I was ready to split, but just as I was approaching the balcony stairs, the music stopped and someone got up on the stage. I was thinking this might be the lottery, although there were no porn stars up there with him. I had a good vantage point up there, so I figured I would stick around and see what it was all about.

The guy was talking into the microphone, but I didn't know what he was saying. He had a high, raspy muppet voice, and the sound system was terrible. I couldn't understand a single word. After some inaudible announcements, he reached into a bowl and called out the name he had drawn. I totally couldn't hear what name it was. Hopefully those down on the dance floor could, but maybe not, because no one was coming forward. He repeated it a couple more times, drawing other names and calling them out, but still no one responded.

Finally on the fourth attempt someone yelled out and came up to the stage. He was wearing a harness top and jockstrap (imagine that). The emcee kept saying incomprehensible things into the microphone, and the winner looked excited, but not much else was happening. Then the winner turned around and shook his ass for the crowd. But after that they both left the stage, the show lights shut off, and the music started back up. That was it. What the fuck was that??? It certainly wasn't a gang bang. I didn't know when the actual lottery would take place, but I figured it would probably be much later, and I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

I worked my way back through the crowd and out the door. It was nice to have a little breathing room again. So much for the Psycho Circus. In my opinion it was NOT one of the craziest nights of Pig Week.

Thursday, December 5

The events this day were at Clubhouse II. It was my chance to finally check it out and see what it was all about. My understanding was that it was a sex club, which is differentiated from a bathhouse in that there was not a focus on the "bath" part of it. A decent bathhouse is going to have extensive shower, steam, and sauna facilities, and preferably a swimming pool and hot tub. I was not under the impression that Clubhouse II had any of these offerings. So I was curious what it did have to offer. This was my opportunity.

The official schedule had a bondage workshop from 7:00-8:00, and from then on it was "lots of kinky pigs." Years ago I might have attended the workshop out of curiosity, but I had long since lost any interest in bondage, so I targeted my arrival for 8-ish. I wasn't really in any hurry to get there.

I didn't even bother to pop a Viagra this time. I wasn't sure what would be going on, but I had become a little burned out on all the sexual activity, and I pretty much resolved that I wouldn't be sticking my dick in any asses that night. I would have whatever erectile function I could muster up naturally, and that was that.

The club was easy to get to, just a straight shot from my place up Oakland Park Blvd to just before the intercoastal. Parking was a little iffy when I first got there. As I was poking around I drove past an available spot, but by the time I circled back around someone else was taking it. It wound up being the last space in the lot, but I found some availability alongside the building across the adjacent side street. It didn't look like it would be a problem there. Other cars were parked in the same vicinity. But it did look very unofficial and left me just a tiny bit worried that there could be the slightest chance it might get towed.

Inside the door was the typical check-in booth. This one was like something out of the movie "Taxi Driver." To the uninitiated this might be a little scary and intimidating, but to me it was just salad dressing. There are two kinds of sex club / bathhouses: fancy & clean, and seedy & grungy. The latter is not necessarily undesirable. It can accentuate the perverted nature of what goes on inside, and is a good fit with the whole leather sensibility. I knew immediately that it was what I should expect here. And I was fine with that.

My dog tags allowed me quick and easy access. I was afraid that there would be a locker rental or key deposit like at The Slammer, or worse the need to purchase a 1-time membership. There were neither. They just buzzed me in.

There was the ever-present clothes check with the brown paper bags. I wasn't sure what patrons did with their clothes if it wasn't Pig Week, but that was irrelevant at the moment. The clothes check was located in what would otherwise have been the staff room and towel laundry. As I was undressing there was a spat going on between a Clubhouse II employee and a Pig Week staff person. It went something like this:

Clubhouse II guy: You need to remember that we still need to carry on business like normal tonight.

Pig Week guy: Well we have to be able to do our work too. We need to provide the clothes check service.

Clubhouse II guy: Look, I don't need any attitude from you. We've got a business to run here.

Pig Week guy: I'm not giving you any attitude. I'm just telling you we both need to be able to be able to work in this space.

Clubhouse II guy: You people are guests here. You need to start acting like it.

Pig Week guy: Well you're not really treating us like guests.

Clubhouse II guy: Look, I'm telling you how it is. If you don't like it you can just leave.

Pig Week guy: Maybe I will leave.

Clubhouse II guy: Well go ahead and leave then.

Pig Week guy: Fine, I'm gone!

At that point the Pig Week guy did in fact get up and leave. This was all going on while I was stripping naked. I was tempted to interject, and point out to the Clubhouse II guy that Pig Week had paid them to use the space, and maybe he should be treating them like a customer and not an annoyance. But I thought better of it. I kind of wondered what would happen with the clothes check after he left, but there were a couple other Pig Week staff there who knew well enough to keep their mouths shut and continued on like normal. It was a very odd exchange, especially to be happening in front of a patron, and was a harbinger about what to expect from the Clubhouse II approach to customer service.

Now that I was naked I could explore the space. I was stripped down to the bare feet this time. I tweaked my nipples enough that my dick would plump up a little. Even when I'm not that horny, the idea of people being able to see my semi-erect penis was a big turn on for me. That's a big part of the reason I go to these places, so I can get naked, be seen naked, and be seen with my dick sticking out. I was actually a little surprised at how quickly my dick responded to the stimulus. Maybe I was a little more horny than I gave myself credit for.

The part of the facility that was up front looked a little like a hotel from a Stephen King novel. It was trying to look fancy, but was just what someone thought fancy was supposed to look like. It was a design aesthetic that would have been outdated 50 years ago, and it looked like it had seen 50 years of wear and tear. The space was arranged with parallel hallways lined with doors. Most of the doors were closed, but based on the dimensions between the doors and hallways I could tell that they were all typical bathhouse cubby rooms. It was in every respect a seedy old sex club. It was just right for Pig Week. A look like this isn't something you can create or synthesize. It has to be earned through genuine bad taste and decades of hard use.

On one end of the spooky hotel space off to the side was a playroom that had a couple slings set up, a TV up by the ceiling playing porn, and a raised section across from it that was covered in shag carpeting but had nothing else on it. I figured I would be coming back there later on, but at the moment I was still exploring.

Off in the other direction was where the spooky hotel space led into the bar room. Like The Slammer there was a functional bar within the facility. I wasn't sure if patrons needed to bring their own bottle on typical nights, but on this night Pig Week was providing some drinks. It was actually kind of a nice space in there. I mean, it looked worn down and outdated by 40 year old standards, but it had a friendly feel, and people were chatting around the bar. Not a lot of people, by the way. In fact the whole place was rather sparsely populated with guys. After the mob I had to deal with the night before it was refreshing to be able to move around, but it said something about how popular Clubhouse II was with the Pig Week crowd. Which is to say not very popular at all.

Off to one side of the bar room space was the entrance to the wet room. This actually looked modern, clean, and well appointed with tile and marble slabs. There were some nice open showers, a small steam room, and a hot tub that was built right into the floor. But I was told that the water wasn't actually hot. The tub had undergone some maintenance, and they had to keep the temperature down until it cured. Okay, so much for getting wet that night.

Beyond the bar room was the back play area. This was another warren of corridors and rooms, but it looked a little more like a conventional bathhouse. It was only outdated by about 10-20 years, and only moderately worn down and shabby. Down at the far end was a space where it looked like they had opened up 4 adjacent rooms to make one spacious playroom. There were some guys fucking in there. I watched a little from the door, but I didn't go inside. I wasn't really interested in joining in. I was content sticking to my plan not to engage in any anal sex that night.

So that was pretty much the run of the Clubhouse II space. I wandered around for a while. I wasn't even really looking for any action. I was just enjoying walking around naked. There were some full-sized mirrors on the walls in the spooky hotel space, which was nice so that I could see myself naked and how my tumescent dick looked as I walked. I just kind of did a few laps around the club, through the bar room, and around the back space, and then back again. I was oddly content to just roam around. When you have low expectations they're easily met.

For the first time all week I didn't see the unnaturally fat dick guy there. There was, however, one guy there who did capture my attention. He was probably in his late 30's, had a shaved head that probably masked a balding pattern, but he had the physique I really like. He was about 5'9", slim build, very little body hair, moderately muscled, and zero percent body fat. He had enough muscle that you could clearly see all the muscle groups, but not so much that he looked jacked or bulky. And his proportions were spot on. He was really hot. Just what I like. I would have liked to chat him up, but he was already on a bench talking to some hairy, pudgy guy. And they were really chatting it up. Every time I passed by they were still fully engaged in conversation, so I didn't bother to try to interject. The hot guy didn't look like he would be hooking up anyway. He was wearing a towel tightly around his waist, and I just got the feeling that it would not be coming off.

At one point I entered the bar room to find that they had laid out a bunch of pizzas. I didn't know they would be serving food. I had already eaten dinner, but I'm always up for some pizza. They were cut into really skinny slices. I grabbed like 3 or 4 of them. As I stood there eating, I noticed that the door to the wet room kept opening by itself. Both staff and patrons would pull it closed as they exited or just passed by, and as soon as they turned their back and walked away it would open again. It was like a ghost was pushing on it. On one occasion when a staff person pulled it closed yet again I mentioned to him that it was opening all on its own. He stopped, turned around, and saw that it indeed opened back up again, but he just kind of shrugged and went on his way.

As we were all in the bar eating pizza I noticed another nice looking young-ish guy. He wasn't quite as hot as the shaved head guy who was still chatting with the pudgy guy on the bench, but he stood out from the other bears and leather daddies there. He had a nice build, very little body hair, clean shaven, and with a trim haircut. And he was fully naked. No harness top and jockstrap for this boy. Not even a towel. You don't see that much. But he was sitting at the bar eating pizza all by himself. He may have just been shy, but his body language was saying he didn't really want to be approached. He wasn't standoffish or anything. He just looked like he wasn't ready yet to engage with anyone. If I were a braver man I would have approached him anyway, but despite my comfortable cockiness in these places, I'm still timid when it comes to striking up a conversation.

There was still a lot of pizza left, so I raided the boxes a couple more times and kind of filled up on it. I did one more pass through the back play space, and even went inside the larger playroom. I was just a little tempted to stick my dick into the ass of the guy who was being fucked in there, but not tempted enough to wait my turn.

I walked back through the spooky hotel to the playroom up front that I had found earlier. I got up on the raised platform and just stood there. There was a guy in one of the two slings. He was quite a bit older. Some of these guys look like they were released from a nursing home. A much younger bear was fucking him. They were engaged in casual conversation as if they were sharing a cup of coffee. Some other elderly man came in and got up in the other sling. No one was there to fuck him. I certainly wasn't going to. So he just lay there alone.

Some more guys started filing in. One of them sidled up beside me. I was standing and he was sitting on the raised platform with his legs hanging over the edge. All he did was touch me. He touched my legs, my butt, and my package. It was nice. It was really nice, actually. I enjoy touch, but it's something you rarely get in bathhouses and sex clubs, and it was almost unheard of at Pig Week where everyone wants to dive straight into extreme sex acts.

Someone else came up in front of me and started sucking me. The other guy continued to touch me. This was very nice. The sucky/touchy combo was working well for me that night. It fit into the mellow vibe that I was feeling. The guy was sucking me soft and slow, and the touchy guy was being gentle, and he was going so far as to reach between my legs and fondle my ball sack while my shaft was getting sucked. It was stimulating without being overbearing.

While that was going on, the naked young man who had been eating pizza in the bar came in and sat down on the platform the other side of me. Although I was currently enjoying what was going on with me, I had to take my shot with this guy. It's funny, I don't have the courage to strike up a conversation with someone, but I have absolutely no compunction initiating a blowjob.

I broke contact with the guys who were touching and sucking me to step over to the boy. I wanted to just dive right in, but based on the energy he was giving off I knew I had to approach him gently. Standard practice is to just go in for the suck, and if the guy isn't into it he'll block you or push you away, but in this case I knew it would be better to ask first. I simply said, "May I?" as I started to bend forward. He flinched a little, and said something like, "I'm just watching tonight." I had assumed that he wasn't ready, and this confirmed that. Which was fine.

I went back to the touch/suck guys, who were all too happy to pick up where they left off. But I kept looking back to the young guy. He was jerking himself off. He had worked up a full erection, and he didn't mind being out in the open, but clearly wanted to keep it just himself. Simply watching him greatly augmented the experience I was having with the other guys.

I continued to garner attention myself. A couple other guys rotated in on sucking my dick. For the most part they were being soft and slow. But at one point some guy stepped in, and he was too energetic from the start. He was moving too fast, and he was doing this thing where he wasn't making enough room for my dick inside his mouth, and kind of forced it in and past his tongue. Some guys take the whole "suck" thing a little too literally. I had no patience for this that night, so I dispatched him pretty promptly. There were other guys to take his place, and they were doing a much better job.

There were more hands too. Some guys were tweaking my nipples. That's the trifecta for me: one guy sucking my dick, another touching me all over, and a third tweaking my nipples. That's basically all my major erogenous zones being worked at the same time. The only thing to make that even better would be getting kissed while all this was going on, but that wasn't going to happen. I'm super picky about whom I kiss. I'm even more picky about that than whose dick I'll suck. The only one in there that would have even considered kissing was the young guy off to the side, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

At one point I looked back to the doorway to the room. A rather sizable crowd had formed. This had become the hot spot in the facility. I even overheard someone say something like, "So this is where all the action is." I felt like the center of attention.

It was around that time that another hot guy entered the room. I hadn't seen him yet that night. He looked kind of like a jock, with a build that was rather sturdy, but still low on fat and body hair. He went past me and the scene that was playing out with me and straight over to the young guy.

The jock made his move, but the young guy declined just like he had done with me. But unlike me, the jock stayed with him and took it slow. The young guy continued jerking himself off while the jock watched. Then the jock slowly touched the young guy around the arm, shoulder, and chest areas. The young guy did not reject that. Then the jock gradually worked his hand down closer to the young guy's groin. He moved cautiously and slowly so as not to spook the kid. And it seemed to work. The young guy gradually relented, and eventually let the jock stroke his dick.

I think the kid was shy in general, but was super cautious about exchanging any bodily fluids. It was probably his first time in such a place, and was concerned about STIs. Sucking and fucking were out of the question, but the jock moved slowly enough that the kid became comfortable with getting stroked by him. Things escalated a bit. The jock steadily increased the intensity. The kid even began to reciprocate, stroking the jock's dick. Soon they were engaged comfortably, albeit a bit tentatively, in mutual masturbation.

This was all very nice to watch. It was like witnessing the blossoming of a new beginner. Furthermore, they were simply jerking each other off while I was simply getting touched and sucked. It was a refreshing alternative to the deluge of anal sex that had been dominating every scene all week long. On the other side of the room the guys in the slings were getting fucked. At least I assume they were. I was totally ignoring anything that was going on over there. We on the platform were engaged in calm, understated acts that were bordering on the intimate. It was pleasantly pleasurable.

This manner of interaction was more to my liking, and my body was responding in kind. I could feel that tingling deep down in my plumbing that was telling me I was starting to get close. It was something that I hadn't really felt all week long. One of the guys who was working on me had some poppers. If I had taken Viagra earlier I wouldn't have been able to indulge, but because I hadn't I was free to take a couple whiffs. It did the trick. I could feel it spread around my whole body, and it gave me that sexy feeling. Having a bunch of guys working different parts of my body while others watched, and I looked on to a hot couple enjoying mutual touch, all the while high on poppers, was really getting me going. I feel myself getting even closer. I could have kept going and easily cum right then and there, but I wasn't quite ready yet. I wanted to enjoy the night a little longer.

The crowd that had been watching us had thinned way out. The attention I was getting began to wane. The hot guys jerking each other off were still doing their thing, but it had gotten a little repetitive by this point, and I knew I wouldn't be joining in. So once the poppers faded I got down off the platform and roamed around a little longer.

I wasn't really finding much action elsewhere in the building. The options were basically to watch other people get anally fucked, or just wander around and around. I had no interest in the former, and was starting to get bored with the latter. Despite the fact that I had just turned down the perfect opportunity to blow my load, I was starting to feel like it wouldn't be long before I should wrap things up. After just a little more wandering I went up to the front cage to get a towel so that I would have something to cum on when I was ready.

Just off the bar where they were serving pizza was a nice big mirror. It was oriented in landscape mode so I couldn't see my full body, but I could get up close and get a good view of myself and my dick. I was working it up, jerking it nicely to get myself set for when I was ready to cum in earnest. My cock was fully stiff. I was kind of enjoying it. I could cum at any time. I had the towel handy for when I was really ready.

While I was indulging in this, some guys were passing back and forth behind me. One of them was a Clubhouse II staff guy who took particular interest. He was a younger latino guy, not exactly fat but neither was he slim. He was making lurid remarks while he watched me jerk off, which was okay with me. But then he gestured for me to come with him. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but figured one more adventure couldn't hurt. I stashed the towel under the pizza table and followed him.

He took me to one of the rooms in the back area. At first I thought it was a janitor closet, but I think it was just a particularly shabby customer room. He made it clear that we had to be very discreet, like he was totally not supposed to be using this space, and probably wasn't supposed to be interacting with customers while he was on the clock.

Once inside I got up on the bench so he could suck me. I was fully naked but he was dressed in his Clubhouse II uniform. I've always wondered about the staff at these places. Personally I would get overwhelmed with the constant, ever-present sexuality, and would quickly get tired and oppressed by it all. Many of them just treat it like a job, but some guys seem as if they can't get enough. This kid was one of those. He was quite lascivious in the enthusiasm he displayed as he sucked my dick. He looked up into my eyes and opened his mouth, wagging his extended tongue back and forth. His appetite for sex was ravenous and unquenchable. I found it rather distasteful, frankly, especially after the tender, understated interactions that had been playing out just a few minutes ago.

The kid wanted me to fuck him, but I still wasn't going to get involved in that. I had made it all night without sticking my dick in an ass and I wasn't going to start now. He was vocally disappointed. He wanted to eat my ass, but while I usually enjoy that, I wasn't very interested in that either. I just didn't want it to be about the anus that night. He started begging me, like he was desperate for action. It was really all too much for me. I'd had enough. I'd had enough of witnessing and engaging in anal sex, I'd had enough gluttonous, insatiate sexual appetites, and I'd had enough of the compulsion to fit in and do what everyone else was doing.

I brusquely stepped down from the bench and walked out. The kid really didn't want me to leave, but I didn't really care. I didn't care if I had failed to meet his expectations and satisfy his cravings, and I didn't even care if anyone saw me come out of the place he was so discreet about entering. I just walked away.

I went directly back to the mirror where I had just been. Now that I was by myself again I could pick up right where I left off. I got the towel out and laid it down in front of me. I went back to jerking off. I didn't need the mechanical pounding like the previous nights. This time I had been ready for a while. I knew it would only be another minute or two before I approached orgasm.

I looked at myself in the mirror, all naked and hard out in the open in this place. My dick was fully stiff. I jerked it with one hand while I touched my nipples interchangeably with the other. In those cases I wish I had three hands so I could tickle both nipples at once while I still jerked my dick. Somehow tweaking both nipples simultaneously is more than twice as stimulating as tweaking them individually. But I did the best I could in the moment and continued stroking and building up to orgasm.

The latino kid came back and told me to stop, but that had the opposite effect. I kept stroking my hard dick until I could feel the climax coming on. A wave of orgasmic tremors filled my body as the first gush of cum burst forth. I continued squirting all over the towel as the orgasm enveloped me. I ignored the latino kid as he said, "Oh no!" I embraced the conceited satisfaction of knowing that I finished off on my own terms. He left before I was even done.

I kept squirting for a good long time, but even after it stopped I continued stroking my dick. This is a technique of mine. People don't realize that the orgasm continues on even after the ejaculation stops. The cock is still throbbing, like it would keep squirting if there were any more fluid left. Continuing to stimulate the dick can keep that action going for a long time. And the body is still experiencing the effects of the orgasm. People chase the full-body orgasm like it's some elusive goal, but the truth is that every orgasm is full-body if you just focus and pay attention to what's happening. I was fully focused, and for another minute or two I continued to bask in the euphoric sensations of the best orgasm I'd had all week long.

Once I finally dropped my dick I took just another moment to savor the post-nut high. Unlike previous nights where I merely caught my breath after having simply drained the plumbing, in this moment I felt a deep satisfaction. This night I had gotten what I wanted. This night I experienced tender interactions, not raw sex. The leather scene is great, and I give credit to the leather daddy tops and bottoms who get what they want from it, but I'm a visitor here for a reason. It's not my scene. To me, less is more. All I want is some relaxed sex acts while enjoying my naked simplicity. That's all. And I finally managed to find it in this seedy, worn out and shabby sex club.

Although I had fully achieved sexual satisfaction, I did still want to stay naked just a little longer. I took one final victory lap around the place, enjoying the seedy ambiance as others continued to indulge their anal cravings. But all too soon I went to the cage to turn in my towel, and returned to the clothes check room to retrieve my stuff. They had no trouble finding my bag this time. There just weren't that many guys there that night.

As I was putting my clothes back on I noticed a sign they had up. It was a pre-printed sign like you would get at a novelty store or something. It read, "This ain't Burger King. You don't get it your way. You get it how we say you will." This was in the staff room. It was not meant to be seen by the customers. But it still said volumes about the Clubhouse II approach to customer service. I hadn't had much interaction with the staff the whole night, the latino boy notwithstanding, and honestly had no complaints, but this just left a bad taste in my mouth. Considering the spat I had witnessed on my way in, I just got the vibe that Clubhouse II was a cranky old curmudgeon of an establishment. And considering how little it really had to offer in the way of amenities, I questioned if I would ever return.

I came out to find my car right where I had left it. It did not get towed. I hopped in and drove the straight shot right back to my place where I settled in for the night.

Friday, December 6

On this day there was the Big Muscle Private Pool/Play Party at the Ed Lugo Resort from 1-6, and then the Only Hams/Just For Hams content collaboration party from 6-10. I had no idea what Hams were. There was another pool party at Ed Lugo the following day, which I intended to attend, so I decided not to go to two other pool parties at the same venue on Friday.

There were also a couple bar parties that night, the Manifest Party at Eagle and Absolut Fetish Night at Ramrod. Both were pretty late at night, and I had no interest in hanging out in bars watching people I don't know drink alcohol and not talk to me. So I just took Friday off and readied myself for the following day.

Saturday, December 7

This day there was another pool party at the Ed Lugo Resort from noon-6:00. I was a little burned out, frankly, and I kind of felt like I had already experienced a fitting conclusion to the week, but I still wanted to get my money's worth for those dog tags, so I chose to go. I decided to take a Viagra this time. I felt like I had missed out on a lot of action last time I was at Ed Lugo, so this time I wanted to come prepared.

Over the course of the week I had managed to patch the inner tube on my scotter's flat tire, so I rode it to the venue, albeit with a little trepidation. Or actually a lot of trepidation. Every couple of blocks I stopped to check that the tire still had air pressure. Every time it did. I figured it would be fine, but I still couldn't help myself from stopping to check it again and again.

I arrived about 12:30. I locked up my scooter, showed my dog tags to the table out front, and headed in. The place was practically empty. I mentioned something to the clothes check guys, suggesting that this late in the week participation had fallen way off, but they brushed it off as still being early.

Once I stripped naked I looked for somewhere to stash my towel. There were some patio seats that had been taken the whole time I'd been there the time before, but were currently vacant, so I decided to just sit down and take it easy for a while. I eavesdropped on a conversation happening nearby, but it was nothing of much interest. I just sat there alone for some time but quickly got bored. I didn't want to lose my seat, but there wasn't much reason in keeping it, so I got up and wandered around.

It was chilly again, but there was some intermittent sunshine. I walked back to the play area. There was a little play going on, but not much. If the hot tub had been open I probably would have jumped in, but like last time it was covered up and served no purpose except for a place for people to set their drinks. I had a pretty good boner going, but not much reason to use it.

I strolled back out into the pool area. The bartenders were just standing around waiting for someone to request something. It was in stark contrast to the previous time when the line stretched clear across the courtyard. I strolled around looking for something to do or someone to talk to, but there wasn't much of either. I saw the hot guy with the hot body and shaved head from Clubhouse II. He was naked except for a jockstrap. When I saw him before he had been endlessly chatting with some guy, but this time he was sitting there all alone. I wanted to chat him up myself. Based on what I had seen the night before I figured he was probably open to conversation, but I was still too shy to approach him.

I saw the guy with the pumped dick again. He saw me and smiled. He came over and gave me a bit of a blowjob. It had become a standard. Since I figured this was probably the last time I'd see him I finally asked him what was up with that fat dick, if it was natural or if he had some augmentation. He said he pumped. He used some kind of water-based hydro pump or something. That explained it. It also reinforced my opinion that natural is better, no matter what your size is. After that exchange we parted, which left me with not much to do again.

I figured I'd head back to the play area and see if I could get anything going. I saw the Russian guy who was again wearing nothing but a white athletic jockstrap. He was getting a blowjob from an Asian guy. His dick was a little under average, but he was still probably the hottest guy there. I figured maybe I'd see if he'd let me have a turn.

I sidled up and started stroking his beefy pec. He gave me a blank look, almost annoyed, and said, "Thank you." I knew full well that meant he wanted me to stop. It felt cutting. I didn't feel like when the leather bottoms ignored or rebuffed me for not being a leather top daddy. It felt more personal, almost like he was saying, "Who do you think you are trying to touch me."

I knew that I wasn't supposed to take it personally. That was the rule. I had dispatched countless guys in my day, each with no sympathy because I knew they knew the rules. But I couldn't help but wonder why I was being rejected. All I was doing was touching his pec. It wasn't like I was trying to stick my finger up his butt or something. But he made it very clear he wasn't into me. His look said it all.

I had no choice but to walk away. I felt dejected. I wasn't sure why I was taking it so hard. I had been turned down plenty of times before, but I couldn't remember a time when I felt so undesirable. It just sort of made me feel like chopped liver. I honestly thought about just leaving in a huff. But I couldn't let myself do that. It was what adolescent me would have done, to slink off in a cloud of self pity. I wouldn't give in to that. And I'd barely just gotten there. I had to stick it out, at least a little longer.

So I just kind of loitered around the pool area, feeling like I had even less to do than I had before. What was worse, I felt like I needed to avoid the Russian guy. If I got anywhere near him I was afraid it would look like I was stalking him or otherwise being a pest.

To keep myself occupied and distracted I just tried to chase the sunshine. The air temperature was a little chilly, and being in the sunlight helped warm me up. It was still partially cloudy, so when the sun came out I stood wherever it hit me directly. It worked. The warm sunshine felt great on my bare skin.

When the sun went back under a cloud I went back into the play area. This went on for quite a while, me just bouncing back and forth from the play area to the pool area depending on whether the sun was out or not. Whenever I was out on the pool deck I checked in on the Clubhouse II hot guy. He was always just sitting there by himself taking it all in, and I was always too shy to go up and talk to him.

I was still trying to avoid the Russian guy, but he wasn't avoiding me. A couple of times he passed right by me, and at one point stood right in front of me. He had his back to me, barely inches away, as if he was trying to block my view or something. I didn't know if he was asserting his dominance over me, or if he had changed his mind and he was now trying to entice me, or maybe he was just a little clueless. Either way I would neither take the bait nor allow myself to be chased off. I just acted like he wasn't there until he moved off.

As time wore on more guys did indeed file in. It was nothing like the week before, but at least there were some more people there. The line at the drinks table was now up to a couple of guys deep. I was seeing a lot of the regulars whom I had been seeing all week long. The skinny kid with the load count on his back in Sharpie was there. I wondered if it was still the same count, or if he had started over. I didn't even consider trying to add myself to the list this time.

There was finally a little more action going on in the play area. At one point I went in and stumbled upon a well-built black guy with a huge cock sitting in a chair and getting sucked. I decided I wanted some of that. I had to wait a little while before the guy who was currently sucking him finally took a break, but eventually it was my turn. Because the black was sitting down I had to get down low. His cock was long and thick. It wasn't fully rigid, but it was stiff enough I could get a good deepthroat on it. I was afraid it would be too thick to fit, but it wasn't. I was able to cram it down my throat how I like.

So there I was, engaging in my favorite activity of deep, deep throating a BBC. I was fully naked with a big, thick cock extending far into my esophagus while other people watched. It was nice, but it wasn't as hot as it should have been. It kind of felt like any other activity that, while enjoyable, wasn't particularly stimulating.

It prompted me to ponder the nature of sexual stimulation. It's supposed to come from the excitement of being in a situation that you fantasize about and seek to experience. The fact that I was now more advanced in years and had a somewhat diminished sex drive didn't in and of itself mitigate the arousal. It was the fact that I'd done it all before. A million times.

It used to be so arousing to me to be naked in front of other people. That was why I did the Folsom Street Fair so many times. I would wait all year in anticipation of thousands of people seeing my naked, aroused body, and while I was there it was positively electric. It was exciting to be in an orgy, where there were multiple guys with hard dicks all engaging in random sex acts together. That was why I joined nude groups and attended sex parties all the time. It was exciting to have a gargantuan black cock to shove down my throat. And while that was still a rather rare occurrence, it wasn't enough to really get me going that day. Rampant, orgiastic Bacchanalia had become ordinary to me.

That kind of summed up my Pig Week experience. It was new to me in terms of the vast scale on which the orgies operated, and the sheer volume of unprotected anal sex that was conducted openly, but it was all really just more of the same. It was like a gigantic all-you-can-eat buffet, but all the food was boloney sandwiches and saltine crackers. It was still better than sitting home alone watching TV. Given the chance to walk around naked amongst guys all fucking each other I'll take it. But it wasn't worth as much to me anymore. It certainly wan't worth $300 for a solid week of largely repetitive events. I figured the next year I would probably skip the dog tags and pay a la carte for one or two events and be done with it.

But then in that moment I was still at a party and trying to make the most of it. My BBC deepthroat session didn't last all that long before I wrapped it up. I wandered around the play area some more. I saw the lean Asian guy from the Psycho Circus. He was willing to engage. We sucked each other's dicks a bit. He wanted to fuck me, but I told him I don't bottom. So instead I fucked him. Even though I was feeling a little blasé about everything, the Viagra did still have my dick up and hard. I wasn't really into fucking, but any interaction with that nice, smooth, tight Asian body was pleasing.

By now the hot guy from Clubhouse II was back there too. He had finally left his solitary perch by the pool and joined the fun in the play area. He had pulled the jockstrap pouch aside and was getting his dick sucked. It was a little below average in size, but still a nice dick. I wouldn't have minded sucking it myself, but the guy who was sucking him went on and on and on. Finally the hot guy said he needed to take a break. The cocksucker reluctantly stopped, and after they smiled at each other the hot guy walked away. That pretty much wrapped up any chance I had of being with him.

I continued making the rounds back there, engaging in a couple sex acts here and there. I watched guys getting fucked in the slings, and fucked a couple guys who asked for it. It was all well and good, but I was feeling like I'd had enough. More than enough. I wound up back on the pool deck. The sun was staying out almost all the time now, so I could warm up in its rays. I toyed with the idea of going in the pool. I knew from the previous week that the water was warm. But I just didn't want to get wet.

I figured it wouldn't be long before I packed it in and went home. But before I left I decided to just stand out there and rock a boner. The Viagra was still strong in my system. All I had to do was stroke my shaft once or twice and it would get fully rigid. I stood there in front of everyone with my thick, stiff dick pointing to the sky. I didn't touch it. I just stood there with a full boner as if it was the most common thing in the world. There wasn't any sexual activity going on out there. That was all back in the play area. So that made my hard cock all the more conspicuous.

This was still arousing to me. That manner of exhibitionism will never get old. It's always been at the core of what turns me on. I like to see a cock. I like to see it out in the open, not pumping in and out of an anus, or even getting sucked or jerked. I like to see it exposed and in its own glory with nothing to obstruct the view. I like to see it fully erect, it's skyward orientation juxtaposed against the vertical, earthbound body. That tells me that the subject is himself fully turned on. There's no faking that. I like to see the body completely, utterly naked, right down to the bare feet, with nothing to cover it up, and nothing to mitigate the pure natural nature of it. I like when it is out of context, standing naked and erect among people who are going about their business and not taking much note. That alone, the simple sight of a naked aroused body is what I find most arousing myself.

And in that moment, I was that naked, aroused body standing out of context. Granted all the other people in the scene were mostly naked and orgy-adjacent, but they were just milling about, drinking their drinks and chatting in casual conversation without taking much note of me. Being the very object that I found most arousing was even more arousing. What had me the most turned on all day was just that. No anal sex or oral sex or anything else. Just me standing naked and erect in the crowd.

While I was standing there, someone did come up to me and asked if he could suck it. Despite the fact that I was currently reveling in unencumbered nudity, I still wasn't going to turn down a blowjob. He got on his knees and started doing his thing. While he was going at it, someone walked past and said, "I've been waiting to see that all day. You've got a great dick." That compliment was nice to hear. It really hit the spot. I might not be a bonafide leather daddy top at heart. I might not fully fit in with this crowd of anal sex aficionados. I might not have the credentials, or the gear, or the vibe that Pig Week and the larger leather community is all about. But I still have one hell of a cock, and I like to show it off. At least someone there appreciated that.

After that blowjob was over I enjoyed being naked just a little longer, but then the day was done for me. I retrieved my towel and jerked myself off. It wasn't quite as mechanical as at The Slammer or the Psycho Circus, but it was still just a physical task I needed to get done. No one was taking any notice of me. No one was making remarks or asking to join in. It didn't take too long anyway. I quickly blew my load, and just like that it was over.

I got my bag back from the clothes check and got dressed for the last time. I turned my back on the party and walked out the gate. Back outside I found that the tire on my scooter had gone flat while I was in there. I can't say I was surprised. Those inner tube patches never last. The tire was squishy, but it still had just a little air in it. I decided to ride it home like that. It was too far to walk, and despite the fact that I had my phone with me, I didn't want to try to carry it into an Uber car. The whole way home I had a complacent apathy towards it. It got me back. And when I got home I took a nice, long nap.

That night there was a Pig Dance at Ramrod. I didn't even consider going.

Sunday, December 8

The final event of Pig Week was another pool party, this time at The Mansion. I totally wasn't up for yet another pool party. I couldn't bear another day spent mostly by myself, endlessly chasing elusive sexual encounters that I wasn't even that much into anymore. I was done. I was spent. I had had all the pigginess I was going to have for one year. Pig Week was over for me.

That night they were announcing the Mr. Pig Week 2024 contest winner at Ramrod. I didn't really care. Whoever won would be just another leather daddy in harness top and jockstrap, a doppelganger from a crowd of doppelgangers. He would be crowned in a dingy leather bar awash in a sea of alcohol. I was happy for them. I knew how much they enjoyed that kind of thing. I was glad they let me play in their playpen for the week, but I had been immersed in their world long enough.

I stayed in and played with my own dick in the privacy of my own home. I blew a big load just for myself. I went to bed early while all the leather daddy tops and bottoms got drunk late into the night, and reveled in their sexuality to their hearts' content.

While I slept I dreamed I found someone's pet pig with collar and leash in the street out in front of the park where I live. It begged me for scritches like my dog does. I didn't try to interpret it.

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