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The Christmas after party

“Cheers mate!”, I yelled out as I closed the cab door, the slam echoing out into the quiet street, it was 1am. How the hell did I manage to leave the house at 8 am this morning and not set foot on my driveway until this time!? Christian, that’s how. It was his smart idea to go for a last minute “Christmas booze up” for all the guys on the shop floor that were working the early shift, that being said, the early shift was 9am till 8.30 pm so the last thing any of us really wanted to do was hit up one of the many rowdy gay bars that surrounded the shop, but he was persuasive and there had been no official Christmas party announced from our employer.

Slightly fuzzy headed, I walked down the gravelled drive slowly and carefully not to make too much noise awaking any of the neighbours. After struggling with my keys in the almost pitch black night I headed upstairs to the flat. On opening the door, I noticed the kitchen light was still on, this was a signal that neither of my flat mates were home, it was a thing we had started a couple years back when we all moved in together. I grabbed a tumbler from the shelf, poured myself one last “goodnight” gin and soda and proceeded to my bedroom. Sat upright on my bed, I messaged a few of the boys that drunkenly shouted “Text me when you’re home!!”, as I got into my cab an hour or so ago. With the texts sent out there was nothing left to do but sip my drink and doom scroll. First Twitter, then Instagram, then twitter again intermittently interrupted by the odd reply text from the boys. Twitter was my app of choice for the doom scroll as you never knew what you were gonna get, a public celebrity argument, a hilarious meme involving a kitten or a video of some twink getting pounded out by a group of muscular older men. The latter was more likely considering the porn accounts I followed. Drink in hand I paused on a video of big round hairy arse being spread apart and eaten passionately, the video held my attention as I stroked my growing dick over my jeans. I reached over and placed my half finished drink on the bedside table, opened the draw and rummaged around for my bottle of poppers, only half paying attention as I was gripped by the happenings on the little screen of my phone. A quick wank before bed would be the perfect end to the long but unexpectedly fun night.

As I unzipped my jeans and pulled them and my briefs down to my thighs, my uncut hard cock slapped back onto my belly, I opened the small mahogany bottle, held it up to my nose and took a deep huff. The sensation hit me instantly, my head grew warm as I felt me losing any inhibitions, stroking my foreskin up and down as the beating feeling of the poppers reached my dick. In that moment the stark realisation of no work tomorrow hit me too. Drunk and now a little wired on the poppers I figured that a quick wank may not be best way to end the night, maybe I could do one better. I swiped the filthy twitter fuck scene off my phone and opened my contacts. Maybe I could act out something dirty tonight and not just be a spectator.

 I scrolled all the names in my contact list, I alway put an emoji if it was a guy I had met on one of the hook up apps or any guy I knew I had fucked or was down to.

“Aaron, no, Andrew, no, Bill, err, no he will be asleep for sure”, I muttered to myself, still sipping on my drink. The whole situation was kind of comical to me, I felt like a middle aged woman flicking through a takeaway menu or a furniture catalogue. Then I scrolled a little further.

“Ah, Dad”, I whispered out loud. This was of course, not my biological father but a guy I had met about six or seven years ago.

I had matched with a guy around my age at the time, Phillip his name was, on a queer dating app and after a couple of days of chatting we had realised that we were just going to hook up, cock shots and hole pics were exchanged and the filthy chat flowed freely, we just had to lock in a place and a time, Phillip lived up north and I was still living at home with my parents so our chances were slim until one day he informed me excitedly that he was coming down to stay for a week with a couple he knew, not only that, they were throwing a barbecue and that I should go. English summers are definitely somewhat hit or miss but if it doest rain, then we are barbecuing. When said weekend arrived, I chucked on a shirt and trousers as I didn’t want to show up to a group of strangers in my usual cargo shorts and tee, and jumped in a cab.

The house was about 20 minutes drive from my parents and quite grand, the couple who owned it were clearly very comfortable. I exited the car and with a quick “I’m here” text fired off, I nervously headed to the front door. Luckily for me, Phillip opened the door before I even got a chance to ring the doorbell, his smile wide and gleaming at my arrival. He was very handsome, even more so than his pictures and from the look in his eye he wasn’t disappointed with my appearance which was a relief, I always thought I looked better in pictures. I mean, I don use any of the photo editing apps but I know how to take a good selfie. His demeanour was very warm and welcoming into the home that he didn’t own, as I stepped inside I could see quite a large group of people in the garden, chatting and drinking freely. The party was made up of mainly men, I must have said it out loud or Phillip could have read my face.

“Alex and James said you can stay this evening, they throw this big gay barbecue every year and it gets a bit full on so you don’t have to worry about not drinking”, he laughed as he poured me a glass of cold white wine. Of course, its a gay couple I thought to myself, maybe it was ignorance but I didn’t even consider it.

The party was actually a lot of fun, the food was great, the drinks were plentiful and without the worry of how and when I’m getting home no longer looming over me, I relaxed into it pretty quickly. I spent most of my time with Phillip, talking about all sorts from music, work and even touching on political views with the odd stranger interrupting to introduce themselves and make small talk. It must have been approaching midnight when the guests started to thin out, the night grew a little chilly when a not so sober Phillip suggested we retired to his room, I of course obliged. The guest room was Phillips home for the week, it wasn’t the size of the guest room you’re imaging but more on the scale of my actual bedroom at home but decorated in a far more sophisticated pallet. I unbuttoned Phillip’s

 shirt as he clumsily fumbled with my belt and trouser fly. The anticipation and sexual build up of the previous weeks talking was unmatched but unfortunately after some very mediocre drunken foreplay the drinks had gotten the better of us and we both collapsed in a lethargic pile on the bed. I was awoken the next morning with a gentle prod and Phillip whispering in my ear.

“Hey, hey, sorry but I gotta be out of here in 45 mins to meet some friends in town”, the whispers got louder in order to stir me awake.

“Oh god, sorry, I was out like a fucking light!”, I answered, raspy voiced and rubbing my eyes into vision.

“I think we both were!”, Phillip laughed in relief of my resurrection. His tone was just as friendly as it was the evening previously “I’m going to grab a quick shower, there’s a pot of coffee downstairs”.

It was very apparent that the sexual chemistry between Phillip and I was not at the calibre we had anticipated but instead of being booted out at eyes open, he still made me feel very at ease and welcome. I grabbed my briefs and shirt that had been strewn over floor in last nights fumbling and made my way onto the hallway, I heard the shower turn on in the bathroom as I headed downstairs to what I vaguely remembered was the kitchen. I followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee where my drunken memory failed me.

When I entered the kitchen, shirt mis-buttoned and hair appropriately disordered I was greeted with two smiling faces.

“Oh, good morning”, a voice bellowed cheerily. The couple who owned the house were going about their morning as the realisation hit me once more that I was just a guest here.

“Ah, I’m, err, I”,... I stuttered, trying to grasp at words to form a tangible sentence, any sentence would do right now! “I didn’t realise you guys were here, I would have put some trousers on at least”, I exclaimed, feeling the heat flushing to my face as I modestly tried pulling my shirt down over my bulge.

“That’s ok, we’ve all had mornings like this”, the shorter, dark haired man said handing me a cup of coffee before scarring back to the kitchen as he got on with the task he was completing before a half dressed stranger stumbled into his midst. I welcomed the coffee with both hands and sat down onto one of the wooden kitchen stalls.

“James! Get the poor boy a cushion! He’s only in his skivvies”, the taller, fairer guy joked as he stood at the ironing board that had been propped up.

“Im ok, honestly”, I laughed, “sorry again...”, I mumbled, taking a sip of the hot morning juice.

“Oh trust me mate, there are definitely worse sites to see first thing in the morning”, he smiled back, his smile was wide and perfectly formed, teeth you only ever really see on billboards, his incisors slightly larger than the rest that gave him an almost enticing, devilish look. He winked as I continued to drink my Coffee and watch him iron. He was tall, certainly

 over six foot, towering over his counterpart. Stood topless in the centre of the kitchen, completely unashamed of my presence, his body was strong, not ripped or overly muscular but in shape for sure, his hair was dark grey with flecks of what can only be described as pure silver, the side trimmed neatly with the top swooping back in a side part, the kind of hair that you would see in a picture at any barber visit. Classically handsome is the only way he could be described, like a movie star from the silver screen, except he was casually standing in the kitchen in nothing but some grey jersey track suit bottoms, ironing and making small talk with his husband. Sat upright on the wooden kitchen stall, I sipped from ceramic mug as my eyes wondered all over him, I was completely mesmerised, every now and then I managed to glance down to his joggers, the ironing board completely objecting my view until he reached for a hanger in which to mount his newly pressed shirt. The jersey of his track suit bottoms must have been thin because I finally got an eyeful of his dick imprint. Heavy and hanging low, I couldn’t look away. Every minuscule movement he made sent his thick cock swinging freely, I could make out the ridge of his cock head clearly as he stepped to and from the ironing board. Fucking with guys my age has always been ok but that was a full grown man’s, experienced dick. Pure dad meat, swinging feet away from me. I struggled to concentrate as the couple flew in and out the kitchen, preparing for their day ahead. Phillip entered with an expectant “time to bounce” look on his face so I placed my mug in the sink, said my thank you’s and left with him.

“They are so lovely for having me, what a great party too!”, I turned to Phillip as we both awaited are respective cabs.

“Oh for sure! I’ve known Alex and James now for about 2 years, such sweet guys”, he retorted. Alex, I thought to myself, that’s his name. On my 20 minute cab ride home I couldn’t get him out of my head, his sky blue eyes, his silver hair and most of all that heavy weapon he had hanging between his legs. I got home, made my excuses to my parents then jumped in the shower where I stroked my own cock at the thought of Alex and what I wouldn’t give to sniff those tracksuit bottoms.