Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Wankathon?” Valenti shook his head -- had he heard the man correctly?
“A jerk-off contest,” Peter explained. “We have prizes for the fastest time, the slowest time, and the best technique.” He shrugged as though it was all standard procedure.
“Um, I think we’re going to take a pass this time,” Valenti said, turning to his partner. “Right, Sean?”
“I think we should do it,” O’Brian said unexpectedly.
“What?” Valenti felt as though his partner had punched him in the stomach. “You think we should what?”
“Look.” O’Brian took him by the arm with a nod of apology to Peter and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t you see, Nicky? This is the golden opportunity we’ve been looking for to secure our cover once and for all. If we really put on a show, the whole damn place’ll hear about it, and there’s no way Conrad will suspect us of being straight.”
“I’m beginning to wonder about us myself,” Valenti muttered, which earned him a blank look from his partner. “But, O’Brian, there’s no way I’m going to blow you or ... or let you blow me in front of this crowd of perverts. There are limits.” He could feel the hot blush creeping over his face as he talked; he couldn’t help remembering the brief touch of his partner’s mouth on his cock the night before. If O’Brian was thinking along similar lines, his face didn’t show it.
“Who said anything about blowjobs, Valenti?” he argued. “Peter there said there was a jerk-off contest, too.”
“The Wankathon? You want to enter the Wankathon?” The unreality of what he was saying washed over Valenti, and he had an almost insurmountable urge to burst into laughter. The corners of his mouth twitched despite his best efforts, and suddenly he was snickering like a kid. O’Brian took one look at his partner and started laughing, too.
“Yeah,” he managed to say between snorts of laughter. “I wanna join the Wankathon. I’m gonna be king of the Wankathon, babe. Bet I set a new wanking record.”
“Sean, be serious,” Valenti pleaded, trying to get a grip on himself. He was glad they were hidden away in the corner, where not many people could see them cutting up like a couple of school kids.
“I am being serious,” O’Brian insisted. “Look, babe, I know it’s not your thing, so I’m not askin’ you to do it. But I can get up there and choke the chicken with the best of ’em if it means we take Conrad down in flames. You have to admit it would really help our cover.”
“Yeah, it would, but are you sure?” Valenti frowned, not liking the idea of dozens of pairs of hungry eyes on a part of O’Brian he had yet to really look at himself. His partner shrugged.
“Sure, I’m sure. I’d do worse than that to get this bastard. You grab us a seat. I’m gonna go tell Peter I’ll do it.”
O’Brian headed back toward the little man who seemed to be the unofficial organizer of the events, and Valenti saw him talking briefly as Valenti found an unoccupied table and sat a little closer to the stage than he would have liked. O’Brian returned and seemed about to say something when the background sounds from the porno that was playing in one corner suddenly cut off and a hush fell over the room.
“Gentlemen and gentlemen.” Peter was standing on the stage and waving his arms for attention. “You’ve all come to be entertained, and I can certainly promise you that. Our blowjob contest is about to start, so may I please have our blowers and blowees assembled on the stage.”
Six men -- three sponsors and their twinks -- trooped up on stage, all wearing leather pants or shorts, and, in some cases, not much else. The sponsors stood with legs apart, flies down, and their twinks knelt before them, waiting for Peter to give the word. When the cheers and catcalls had died down and the room was absolutely silent, he did.
“Gentlemen, start your engines!” the little man yelled in a surprisingly loud voice. The “boys” on the floor had their sponsors out in record time, and soon three heads were bobbing at various rates of speed while the crowd in the back room of the Dark Knight cheered on their favorite teams.
Valenti found he couldn’t look away from the action on the stage, although he desperately wanted to. The sight didn’t do anything for him, but the thought that it could have been O’Brian and himself up there, with his partner on his knees before him, had his cock throbbing. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying not to imagine O’Brian’s mouth sliding over him, the hot, gentle suction as he took Valenti in ...
“I can’t not look.” O’Brian leaned closer and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, planting a chaste kiss on Valenti’s cheek as he spoke.