A Late Shift

As Mark rang the bell at the back of the hotel, he smiled, knowing he had at last done something for his mother. Life had been hard since his father had left many years before and his mother had struggled heroically to bring up Mark and his younger sister Kelly in their small apartment, but at last he could repay a little of the effort she had put it.

Since he was sixteen he had been planning this. Some guessed that Mark was still sixteen -- he looked quite boyish with his mop of black hair, slim figure, standing about 5ft 10. People said of Mark that he would fill out to a fine figure of a man. They said that when he was older he would have everything -- good looks and genuine charm. At eighteen Mark was kind, and growing slowly in confidence, with "boyish" good looks.

As soon as he could Mark had signed up with the agency to get work waiting on at dinners, banquets and functions, and had served in many different places, from hotels to marquees to halls, work he could do while studying in the day time. Of course, he had contributed to the "family pot," but had also kept some of his earnings for himself. He enjoyed buying music, and sometimes even clothes. But he had saved some as well. And now his mother had just gone on her first holiday that he could remember. She had flown to the sun with her sister for ten days. And Mark had paid for it.

Of course, he had needed to convince his mother she should go. And convince her she could find some spending money. In the end she had flown out earlier that day, leaving Mark at the house to look after himself -- with the promise of no parties -- and Kelly with friends. Mark was pleased his mother had gone -- she deserved everything she got as a result of what she had done for Mark and Kelly.

Mark's mind turned back to the shift for the evening. It was some sort of awards function for an insurance company. He wasn't sure what, and didn't particularly care. Probably normal stuff -- best salesman, special awards, best newcomer. He enjoyed his work, enjoyed the company of the staff he worked with, and enjoyed the interaction with the customers, but this was just one more "do." After the first half dozen shifts he had worked he had lost interest in who he was serving. Tonight he was with a team of ten others -- all the same sort of age as him, mainly students -- and the shift went well. A team of ten suggested a hundred people, with the hotel using their own staff to run the bar.

Food was served. Starter. Main course. Pudding. If you had asked later, Mark could not have told what the food was -- he just had to deliver plates to tables and clear up after.

Then there were speeches, and awards, and for the staff a lot of hanging around in a corridor polishing cutlery, waiting to clear tables. For Mark it was just a typical ordinary shift. After two years of this work he was used to the waistcoat and bow tie he had to wear. He had polished cutlery mountains. He had served more chicken than Bernard Matthews had grown. And this was just another shift. They worked hard. Joked. Waited to go home.

At last it was over -- most of the guests had left. About 10 men were left -- managers of the company. It was often what happened -- the organisers/managers would run the event, then stay the night in the hotel so they could drink afterwards until late, often staying in complimentary rooms if they had paid enough on the dinner. The tables had been cleared, and then stacked at the side of the room. The team were being approached by the group of managers -- it was always good form to say thank you to the staff who had worked hard.

"I just want to say thankyou for your hard work tonight," said the man who appeared to be in charge. "First time we've had a dinner like this and it went very well. Like to just give you a bottle of something to say thankyou." They gave each of the team a bottle of wine to say thankyou.

"Just wanted to say we are going to have a private drink or two, and wondered if one of you would like to come and serve a few drinks to us for a couple of hours? May be do a few other favours for us?"

The team knew what these things could mean. A bunch of blokes getting drunk. Cleaning up sick. Staying for hours till the bitter end. Trouble getting time sheets signed, so not getting paid for it. The team melted away quickly. Needed to be home. Last bus due. Taxi waiting. Truth was Mark knew they were all off to a club. As the team disappeared Mark moved over to the Manager of the company. He was a tallish thin man, about 45. Smart, although his tie was a bit dishevelled after the long evening. He was good looking, with a ready genuine smile. Mark spoke to him. They seemed like friendly people, and he might get a good tip.

" Sir, I know what these things can be like, but I've got nothing better to do. I'll stay as long as I'm happy." Mark knew he didn't have to be home as he was the only one staying there at the moment. He wasn't doing anything the next day either, and could leave whenever he wanted.

The man held out his hand to shake Mark's and introduced himself as Chris. He asked Mark his name.

"Mark, I know what you're thinking. I did your kind of work when I was young. But it won't be drunk and sick and gross men swearing. We're not like that. We've got other plans for later. Are you happy to give us a few hours?"

Mark thought before he spoke. "If it's not drink and sick, then what do you want me to do?"

Chris thought before he answered. "Absolutely everything we want. And no getting out of anything. And we won't pay you. And I think as our member of staff you need to call me sir. Still want to do it?"

Part of Mark thought he should just walk away. But he was intrigued. And when Chris had said Mark should call him "sir" something stirred inside him.

"I'll do it, sir. There's no-one at home tonight -- my mother is away on holiday -- so no-one will miss me."

Chris chatted for another ten minutes to Mark, asking him about his mother's holiday, a little about his life, why Mark was working as a waiter for these events. Chris was more and more impressed with the quiet young man, and knew it was the lad the manager at the agency had told him about, how he had saved for his mother, and the tough life they had in the apartment, struggling to make ends meet. At last Chris told Mark to report to room 404 in 15 minutes. Chris suggested Mark may want to freshen up, take a shower, before reporting.

With that the ten men had disappeared, the hotel staff had melted away, and Mark was on his own waiting in the dining room of the hotel, looking at the clock. Mark did take the shower in the staff area -- it had been a hot and sweaty shift. One minute before the 15 minutes were up, Mark took the lift to the fourth floor, and was knocking on the door of suite 404. Almost immediately the door was opened by Chris, and Mark invited inside.

For the next few minutes Mark did what was his duty -- he served drinks, handed around nibbles, washed empty glasses in the small kitchen attached to the suite. It gave him a chance to take in the surroundings a bit more. It was a large suite with plenty of chairs, as well as a double bed, with a small kitchen and bathroom attached. The ten or so men who were the managers of the organisation sat on the chairs talking. For a group of men who had drunk a few, they were remarkable quiet and friendly to Mark. Mark also noticed another man who was clearly very friendly with Chris, perhaps even a partner, called Tony. Tony was a couple of inches taller than Chris -- over six foot, although height was deceptive for someone as slim as him. He was perhaps 45, with blonde hair. Mark found him particularly kind to him.

It was after twenty or so minutes that Chris clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Gentlemen," he started, clearly about to make a short speech. "Gentlemen, it is obvious that we have managed to set up a good company. It's not often a group of friends from a gay bar succeed quite so well! Setting up our own insurance company ten years ago was the best thing we ever did." There was clapping amongst the other men. Chris continued. "So perhaps we ought to celebrate!" He paused. He turned to Mark stood by the kitchen. "Mark, come and stand by my chair." After he registered he had been spoken to, Mark moved to the side of Chris's chair. Chris spoke to Mark quietly. "Whatever happens, don't move. Unless I tell you."

Mark stood wondering what was going to happen. Perhaps there was a special champagne to serve, or a cake to be brought in. Mark was only half listening to what Chris was staying. "I reckon the best way to celebrate is for us to share something special together. I've always wanted to do this. A gangbang."

There was a pause. Even then Mark had only half heard and hadn't registered, although it was obvious the other men liked the idea after they too had registered Chris's suggestion. Later Mark thought it was perhaps the drink that made them so uninhibited. Chris was still speaking. "I've always wanted to gangbang a nice fresh eighteen year old, and we have one here." Mark felt Chris move a hand from behind, between his legs, and reach up and cup his cock over his trousers. Afterwards Mark knew he should have run -- he would have escaped through the door. But he didn't -- his just stood there and let Chris do it to him. Perhaps it was that he said he would obey and had been told not to move. Perhaps he wanted it. Even in his acute embarrassment he felt his cock twitch into Chris's hand. He also knew afterwards that having stayed for this moment, he could have been led into anything. And was.

Chris was speaking to his friends again. "What do you say, lads? Do you think Mark is a tasty 18 year old?" As he did he gently pushed and released Mark's cock, making Mark go harder.

The clamour suggested they did think it was good idea, and thought that Mark was a tasty teenager. One of them cried out: "Let's see what he's got."

Chris released Mark's cock and stretched his hand so he could undo Mark's trousers. He put his other hand across to help, and quickly had Mark's belt undone, the button undone, the zip pulled down. By this stage the thought of running wasn't even in Mark's consciousness. Chris pulled Mark's trousers to his knees, then to his ankles. He lifted up Mark's feet one at a time, removed his shoe and sock, then pulling the trousers off his ankles. Chris threw the trousers across the room, then rested his hand again on Mark's cock which was bulging and tight inside his underpants.

A voice said "Come on Chris, let's see it all." Chris slowly lowered Mark's underpants down the back, then unhooked the front from Mark's cock, lowering them to his ankles. The men cheered. Chris got to his feet and as quickly as he could removed Mark's shirt and tie, leaving him standing naked in front of the men. Chris sat down again. The men were appreciative. Mark heard a man say "Wow, he as some pretty equipment." Another voice say "what a cute boy." Another voice said "What a handsome cock, on such a good looking lad." Mark felt strange. Part of him was acutely embarrassed. Part was flattered and pleased.

Mark heard Chris's voice again, this time directly to him. "Don't move honey." He felt Chris's hand rest on his ass, rub gently around his ass. It felt good. He felt Chris's fingers running along the crack of his ass. He guessed what was going to happen and wasn't going to move. He felt Chris's fingers pushing between the cheeks of his ass, probing deeper and deeper until he groaned -- Chris had reached Mark's asshole and was tickling him there. Mark knew his cock was throbbing hard and the men were watching. It was so embarrassing. It was so hot. Mark wasn't aware of some of the men getting undressed as he kept his eyes closed. He heard Chris's voice speak to him. "You are going to have ten cocks going deeply in there..............and everyone will probably want your mouth as well......."

Marked jerked -- he hadn't really put into thoughts what they were planning to do to him. He had read about it on websites. How tight it was. How much it hurt. How full it would make him. How it might taste funny. Or nice. Chris's voice continued. "Imagine -- ten cocks pumping cum in your asshole. Ten cocks pumping cum in your mouth." Mark wanted to run. Mark wanted to stay. Mark wanted to prove he could do it to these men. Mark felt his cock throbbing. Mark remembered the word from a website: "gangbang." Sometimes his friends at college had talked about gangbanging a particular girl, but it was all in their fantasies. He had once heard the phrase "Male Gangbang," and now knew it was going to happen to him. In the next few minutes. Mark was embarrassed -- his cock twitched as he thought of what was to happen.

Again one of the men spoke. "Come on Chris, show us his hole, show us his treasure."

Chris spoke. "Okay Mark -- on your hands and knees, ass towards them." Mark moved like an automaton, but knelt in front of Chris, his ass towards the other men. Never had he dreamt he would be showing off his asshole to anyone. But when one of the men wolf-whistled he felt pleased. For some reason.

Chris collected something from his case and knelt beside Mark. Mark felt Chris's finger playing with his asshole again, this time pushing gently through the ring. Mark hated and loved the invasion. Mark was trying to make out what Chris was doing, then remembered one of the websites he had been to. Lubrication. He was rubbing lubrication into his ass to make it easier for them to take him.

Chris moved away, and one of the other men was kneeling behind Mark. The man was running his hands over Mark's ass, tickling his asshole. Suddenly Mark felt something pushing at his ass. Trying to push into his ass. It was so big, hard. Suddenly Mark cried out -- it was through the ring. Then man held it there, than began to push gently further into Mark. Mark remembered the word. He was being buggered. It was odd -- his mind was almost separate, analysing what was happening. The man pushed further and further in. It hurt, it made Mark feel full. But he could stand it. The man slowly slid further and further. Deeper and deeper. Mark was being opened up. Invaded, owned, taken by this cock. Suddenly the man seemed to be in as far in as he could be. Mark thought maybe 6 inches. He held his cock in Mark until Mark began to get used to it.

Mark was getting used to it, but as he did another man sat in front of Mark's head. He put his hands on Mark's head and pushed down, until Mark felt a cock pressed to his lips. The man pushed harder, and Mark knew what was expected. He opened his mouth, let the cock enter his mouth, then clasped his lips around it.

Mark paused for a moment wondering what he should do. He decided -- he caressed the cock in his mouth with his tongue, and the man moaned in pleasure. He sucked gently. Tasted the pre-cum from his cock -- and liked it. It was obvious the man he was sucking was enjoying it as well. Suddenly he felt the cock pulled almost out of his ass, then pushed back in. He felt the other man thrusting upwards into his mouth. Suddenly they were doing it with a rhythm. He thought -- his ass being fucked, his mouth being fucked.

Mark felt the cocks slowly fucking him harder. He let his tongue caress the cock in his mouth, sucking as he did. The cock seemed to be going in and out of his ass quite easily. It was tight. It did hurt. But Mark didn't mind now. He even tried to squeeze the cock with his ass muscles, and heard the man say "what a good lad, what a hot bitch."

Mark was suddenly aware that the cocks were sliding faster and faster in and out of his ass and mouth, the men were moaning. Suddenly he felt the man thrust up into his mouth, cry out, holding Mark's head down on him. He tasted the cum spurting into his mouth. He had no choice. He swallowed as hard as he could. The man seemed to pump over and over, and Mark swallowed all he could. Suddenly he felt the other man grasp his hips hard and plunge his cock as deep into Mark as he could, crying out. Mark knew he was coming in his ass, groaning and spurting hard.

At last they both slumped down, releasing Mark's head and ass. He heard one of them say "he is the hottest fuck I've ever had............."

Mark attempted to get up, but felt himself being held by two more men, one at his head, one at his ass. At that moment he felt the enormity of what was going to happen. All ten in each hole...............

After the second pair Mark felt himself feeling exhausted, his ass sore, but now so expanded, his mouth full of cum, his taste buds over taken by it.

And the truth was it was one after the other. Each one fucking his ass and mouth, recovering enough to do him twice. After a few it was all a blur. Those who fucked him after they had already filled his mouth took much longer. His ass felt full, stretched, abused. His mouth felt owned by all these men. And they appreciated him, telling him he was a hot slut, or a gorgeous bitch, or a fabulous fuck. Later he reflected -- what was it about the obscene compliments he like so much?

It seemed a long time until they all seemed satisfied, and were sitting around, with Mark lying exhausted and abused on the floor in the middle of them. He remembered the phrase again -- he had been gang-banged. His ass was sore. His mouth was sore. It had been terrible. Wonderful. He had been abused and used, and had loved being taken. Owned. Filled. It was one of the men who noticed -- Mark's cock was hard as he lay on his side exhausted -- he still hadn't cum.

Chris knelt beside Mark and rolled Mark onto his back. He grasped Mark's cock. He began to slide his hand up and down Mark's cock. For Mark it felt fantastic, as he felt himself masturbated. He was glad someone was doing it -- he felt so exhausted he didn't want to do it himself. The men we clapping to the Rhythm, then were chanting "pump, pump, pump" in time with Chris's hand sliding down Mark's cock. Mark lay there, too tired to respond, although his cock did. He felt the pressure building in his balls, then cried out as he shot his cum high into the air, then pumped cum all over Chris's hand. For Mark it seemed never ending, although in the end he came down, the men cheering and clapping. He heard comments like "How much cum does a kid have," and "I wish I pumped out that much."

Mark felt a hand pushed gently to his lips, and Chris telling him: "lick my hand clean, babe." Mark did, before he realised what he was doing and what he was tasting -- licking his own cum from Chris's hand.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Most of the men melted away to their own rooms. Chris and his partner Tony helped Mark to his feet, to the shower, and let him sit in the shower as they sprayed water all over him. They dried him, let in sit on the toilet for a few minutes, then carried him to bed. Mark was sore, exhausted, and asleep in seconds.

When Mark woke next morning he found himself alone in the bed in room 404. He looked around and found himself alone in the room. There was still luggage there, but no-one in the room. At first Mark wondered whether the night before was a dream, but the ache in his ass told him it wasn't. He also felt the muscles of his jaw aching from being stretched open so much.

Mark felt the need to relieve himself, so got out of bed, and walked slowly to the bathroom. His legs were weak but managed to carry him. He used the toilet, drank some water, then returned to the bed. Just stretching his legs made them feel a bit better. It was only on getting back to the bed that he realised he was naked, completely. He sat in bed remembering the night before. It was a mixture of thoughts. They had taken him. Surely he hadn't given in to them? It had hurt so much. He had been stripped completely naked, there was nothing they hadn't taken. He had hated it. He didn't want it. Never again. He had never been gay, and his girlfriends -- and his aunt -- hadn't complained...................