Tyrone Uses Me at a Rave

I couldn't believe I was doing this. My girlfriend, Mia, had casually mentioned earlier that week that her friend Jess had invited her to a rave a couple of hours away. Normally, I'd pass on something like that. Raves weren't my scene, they were too loud, too chaotic. But this time, I had time, and thought it'd be fun just this once.

I started to get ready. I had heard them talking some about the crazy and revealing outfits people wore. Of course, this was mostly referring to the women, but I saw it as a rare chance to slip into something tighter than society usually lets a guy get away with.

I rummaged through my closet and settled on a white long-sleeve shirt that hugged my chest and arms, showing off the lean muscle I'd worked hard for. Then, I grabbed a pair of neon short shorts, bright, tight, clinging to my hips and thighs in a way that left little to the imagination. Standing in front of the mirror, I smirked. My tall, fit frame looked good, my smooth, pale legs catching the light. This display of my form felt like a quiet rebellion against the usual baggy jeans and tees. A chance to show off without anyone batting an eye.

The two-hour drive to the Airbnb flew by, my mind buzzing with anticipation. I figured it'd just be Mia and Jess, maybe a bottle of wine cracked open as they prepped for the night. But when I pulled up and stepped inside, my stomach tightened. Three guys were sprawled across the living room, tall, loud, already cracking beers. Mia hadn't mentioned them. Not once. I plastered on a smile, hiding the flicker of irritation, and introduced myself. "Hey," I said, shaking hands, keeping it cool. She always had guy friends, whatever, no big deal. Still, it stung that she'd left this part out.

We hung out for a bit, the vibe loosening up as drinks flowed. Someone pulled out a baggie of MDMA, and before I knew it, we were all snorting lines off a cracked coffee table. The bitter sting hit my nose, then my brain, a warm buzz creeping in. By the time we piled into the Uber to head to the venue, I was feeling lighter, the edges of my annoyance softening.

At the rave entrance, security loomed ahead. The guy checking me was just as tall as me, but looked much bigger and stronger. He looked me up and down, noticing my outfit. "Ain't you cold?" he said, smirking as he took in my shorts, my bare, slender legs prickling in the winter air. Laughter rippled through the group, Mia, Jess, the guys, all of them grinning. I forced a chuckle, brushing it off. "Nah, I'm good."

"Arms up," he ordered, beckoning me forward. I complied, lifting them high as he stepped in close. His hands brushed my chest first, light but deliberate, then slid around to my back. His body loomed nearer, the heat of him cutting through the chill. Down my sides, over my hips, until his warm, soft bare hand touched my thigh. I froze as his fingers traced upward, poking up just under the hem of my shorts, brushing the sensitive skin at the uppermost part of my thigh. I squirmed, a reflex, and he pulled back, moving to the outside of my clothes again. Okay, I thought, that was... thorough.

But then his hands found my ass. He cupped both cheeks gently at first, like he was testing the waters, before brushing back up to my shoulders. My pulse quickened. He circled back down: hips, ass again, this time lingering, his fingertips pressing into my flesh, squeezing just enough to make me feel it. I wiggled, instinct kicking in, trying to shift away. Big mistake.

"DON'T MOVE," he barked, his voice booming, authoritative. His hands clamped onto my obliques, hard, locking me in place. I flinched, startled. "Sorry, sir," I mumbled, my body going rigid under his grip. Eyes turned our way, Mia's, Jess's, the guys', drawn by the outburst. He made one last pass, slower this time, fingers grazing my ass again, not squeezing but still savoring. Then he waved me through. I stumbled forward, heat creeping up my neck. I felt violated. The group commented on how "angry" he'd seemed, but no one seemed to notice the way he'd just felt me up.

Inside, the rave swallowed us with pulsing lights, thumping bass. The MDMA kicked in hard, mixing with the alcohol, turning my skin electric. Mia and I danced. I pressed into her, the drug amplifying every touch into something molten, sensual. For a while, it was just us, with her body against mine, the heat, the rhythm. But my mind kept drifting back to that pat-down. What the hell was that? I shoved it down, focusing on Mia's curves under my palms.

Eventually, I broke away to hit the bathroom. I needed more Molly. I was enjoying the feeling and I wanted to drown in it. The bathroom was huge, empty, all slick tile and dim light. I pulled out my phone, poured out a hefty line on the screen's surface, and snorted it in one go. It hit like a freight train. My head spun. Immediately my skin and face started to screamed for touch, hypersensitive and desperate. I turned to head back to Mia--and froze.

There he was. The security guard. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me sternly. He'd seen the whole thing. Before I could stammer an excuse, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip firm, unyielding. "You're coming with me," he said, low and rough.

"No, please don't tell," I blurted, panic spiking.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting. "I won't. If you follow me into that stall and do what I say." Something in his tone, in the way he looked at me, shifted the air. It seemed like a threat. But I think he sensed something in my eyes. Like I didn't need that much convincing. Maybe the molly-induced desperateness for touch. Maybe something else too.

He locked the stall door behind us and pounced. His lips crashed into mine, hungry, his tongue shoving past my teeth. His hands were everywhere, gripping my thighs, my hips, my ass, digging into my obliques like he owned me. That familiar touch, but wilder now, unrestrained. His hand wrapped around my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss, and I melted, the MDMA turning every sensation into ecstasy. It was a blur of lips and groping, it felt like only ten seconds, before he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down, guiding me to my knees.

I knelt on the cold, hard floor, looking up at him. His eyes burned into mine. "You want it in your mouth?" he growled.

"Yes, Daddy," I breathed, sticking out my tongue invitingly, my voice trembling with need.

"Good boy," he muttered, unbuckling his pants. My mouth watered as he unzipped, the my senses cranked up to eleven. He slid his huge, black, uncircumcised, thick and heavy cock out, and I nearly lost it right there. He pulled back the foreskin, revealing the glistening tip, and I leaned in, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to it, worshipping it with my lips. My tongue swirled around the head, tasting him, savoring the warmth, the texture. I couldn't get enough. I sucked his massive balls into my mouth next, rolling them over my tongue, moaning softly.

"Make it nice and sloppy," he ordered, voice thick with lust. I obeyed, slobbering all over him, his balls, his shaft, letting my saliva drip down all over his cock, coating it, dripping onto my cheeks, my chin, my chest. I was obsessed, lost in the hypersensitive pleasure of him inside of my mouth. Then he took over. His hands gripped my hair, yanking my head back, and he thrust into my mouth, hard. His cock slid back and forth through my lips, against my tongue, hitting the back of my throat. It was so thick I had to stretch my mouth wide, gagging as he fucked my face mercilessly. I didn't care. I loved the wet, sloppy mess, the way he used me, the way my whole face felt orgasmic with every thrust, I had never felt such a sensation.

Minutes blurred together, his pace relentless, until he groaned and unloaded. A hot, thick load flooded my mouth, some splashing onto my cheek and my chest. I swallowed eagerly, looking up at him with hazy, grateful eyes. Even after, I couldn't stop, nuzzling his warm, softening cock, sucking eagerly still, cuddling my face against it like I couldn't bear to let go of the euphoria.

"Okay, that's enough," he said finally, chuckling. "Gotta get back to work." He pulled his cock out of my mouth, and I whimpered at the loss.

"Okay, thank you, Daddy," I murmured, disappointed that it was over, still dazed as he put his pants back on and left the stall. I stayed there a moment, kneeling, blissed out, before dragging myself up to rejoin the group.

Back on the dance floor, I spotted Mia perched on some guy's shoulders, laughing, carefree. A pang of jealousy hit me, but it faded fast as I realized I didn't really have a right to be possessive in that moment, She waved, hopping down to meet me. "You were gone for a while!" she said, then stopped, her face twisting as she got a closer look. I realized too late how messy I still was, as I was too disoriented to realize I should clean myself before leaving the bathroom. I quickly wiped my face that had slobber dripping from my chin (and hopefully nothing else). I wiped the chest of my shirt with my sleeve, which was also messy from the saliva that had dripped down Tyrone's wet cock onto my body.

"Why's your hair all fucked up?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. My mind flashed to his hands in my hair, pulling, guiding me as he fucked my throat. "I don't know," I mumbled.

"Were you kissing someone?" Her tone sharpened. Better for her to suspect that than the truth, I guess.

"No," I said, heart pounding. "What's that on your shirt?" she pressed, pointing at the stains. "And why'd you wipe your mouth?"

She suspected. I could see it in her eyes, the gears turning. "I didn't do anything," I lied, deflecting. "Why were you on that guy's shoulders?" She frowned, thrown off, but slowly let it drop. She realized she didn't have proof. Maybe she just didn't want to know. And I'd seen her crossing lines too, maybe she thought dropping it would make *me* drop that.