Bate Club Pt. 01

Oscar grew up in Sydney, but as a young adult, after graduating from university, he received a job offer in another part of the country that was too good to refuse. Ever since then, for one golden week of every southern summer, he returned. He loved his wife, his kids, and the adopted hometown he lived in now, but there'd always been something special to him about spending a week away somewhere else, on his own, distant from everything, without a care in the world.

He saved money all last year. As Christmas approached, he booked himself into an expensive harbourside hotel in the middle of the city and compiled a list of cool and interesting restaurants to check out. But the main reason he comes to Sydney each January is to explore the eastern suburbs on foot, especially the famous beaches that decorate Sydney's rugged coastline.

He grew up in the western suburbs, a long way from the coast. Sure, it was still the same city, but east and west were completely different. Oscar romanticised the eastern suburbs where the powerful moneyed classes lived; by and large, the west was poorer.

Occasionally, on weekends during summer school holidays, he and a group of mates would catch the train to the city, then the bus to Bondi. They'd ride boogie boards, torment the seagulls, and pass lewd comments about the beautiful women who strolled the sand in skimpy bikinis. Oscar perved on the women, though he had an eye for the men, too. He'd never admit it, though; he worried about how his mates might react. He'd ogle the musclebound longhaired surfers from behind his dark sunglasses, warm salt glistening on their shoulders and chests, and turning away from his mates for a second, he'd sneakily pinch a nipple, making his dick twitch.

Even though he could never afford to live in Sydney's eastern suburbs, her could afford one week here each year. He loved going for long, solitary walks through the suburbs and along the coast, breathing in the salty sea air, watching planes depart from Mascot, gliding over the ocean toward destinations far and wide.

The other thing he enjoyed doing during his summer week in Sydney was hooking up with men for sex. When he first began to own his bisexuality, he made up for lost time, but now, ten years later, Grindr was a one week a year thing. He'd grown tired of seeing the same faces whenever he opened the app at home. The men in Sydney were so much hotter than the men in his hometown, and most nights, he managed to find himself a hookup after dark.

Oscar was in his early thirties, though he looked young for his age. Born to an Australian dad and a Puerto Rican mum, he had sultry dark eyes, beautiful brown skin, and a solid build. He'd been muscly younger, the payoff from spending solid hours at the gym. He'd been proud of his biceps, pecs and especially his sixpack, but gravity was beginning to win the eternal battle. He was still in great shape for his age, though the glory days that only come once had been and gone. His thick black hair was shaggy and longish, a bit like a skater's haircut -- not shoulder length, but just long enough to get in his eyes and tickle his ears. He stood about five feet and ten inches tall, and his smooth, brown, uncut penis was about five and a half inches long.

On Monday morning, just before catching a cab to the airport, he kissed his wife and kids goodbye. Other than a few bumps as the metal bird hoisted itself up, the flight to Sydney was smooth and landed on time. He caught the train into the city and checked into his hotel at Circular Quay, just behind the famous Opera House. After unpacking his luggage and settling down, he thought about checking Grindr but eventually decided against it. He had something special to try tomorrow. Something he was looking forward to, but something he'd never done before. He felt anxious, but in a good way.

Tonight, he walked to one of the restaurants on his list and ate well. Afterwards, he found a pub and sat at the bar, finding a spot under a light. He downed a glass of wine as he flipped through a magazine. The girl behind the bar kept glancing at him. He noticed, but tried not to let her know. 'Still got it', he smiled to himself, enjoying the unexpected ego boost.

He walked slowly back to his hotel, drinking in the sights and sounds of George Street. The lift was empty as he rode to the twentieth floor. He loved this town, he thought to himself, but he couldn't imagine ever living here again: it was far too expensive and had become too tough. He stopped, ruminating on that last thought. Had the city become tough, or since moving away, had he become soft? He shrugged his shoulders. It didn't matter.

He ordered a cocktail to be brought to his room, and he stood by the window as he waited for the discrete knock on the door. He gazed at the white sails of the Opera House and the inky black of the harbour beyond, and just off to the left, the giant metal coathanger that connected north to south. As he sipped his nightcap, he lay in bed watching something on Netflix, though he wasn't paying much attention. Around half past ten, he brushed his teeth, turned off the light and crawled into bed. He called his wife for a few minutes, just to check in.

He slept peacefully. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

*

Oscar made sure to book a hotel with a good pool. Stretching in bed, he threw the covers back and got up. He pulled on a pair of swimming trunks and fumbled in his luggage for his goggles. The plan was to swim a few laps before breakfast, well before the kids on school holidays broke the tranquillity with their playful screams and shrieks. He closed the door behind him and caught the lift to the pool deck. After drying off, he went back up to his room to get changed. Breakfast was included, but he strolled past the sausages, bacon and eggs in search of fresh fruit, yoghurt, cereal and juice.

He took a coffee with him as he headed out into the street. The day was warm. He caught the bus to Coogee Beach, the start of today's stroll. He threw his sunnies on, along with a wide-brimmed hat. He found the path and began walking north.

The walk from Coogee to Clovelly was quite steep in parts, and Oscar was glad he'd brought a bottle of cold water with him. He knew he'd need to refill it at least once along the way. Looking east, he saw a clear, crystalline sky hanging over the edge of the deep blue Pacific, punctuated every now and then by the sight of a plane lifting into the air. A few joggers headed in the opposite direction.

By the time he got to Bronte Beach, roughly halfway, his attention was diverted from the ocean by a sea of hot bodies. This was one of the beaches where people proudly showed off their hard work. Chiselled, suntanned men walked around with their shirts off, their oily tattooed chests on full display, while women with big tits paraded around wearing the tiniest bikinis imaginable. A park, set back from the beach, was alive with people kicking soccer balls around. Oscar spied a friendly badminton game off in the distance.

He crouched to fill his water bottle up at a tap, pouring slowly as his eyes drank in the human candy. He screwed the cap back on and continued tracking north.

The deep yet narrow inlet of Tamarama Beach was curiously unpopulated today. Oscar's feet were taking a hammering by now, and sweat was pouring down his cheeks. His hat was soaked from the humidity. For a moment, he seriously contemplated tapping out at the bus stop just behind the beach, but he knew he was on the home stretch now, and that he'd regret not going the distance. He pressed on, and a few minutes later, he rounded a corner and saw the famous Bondi Icebergs club, with its Olympic sized sea pool off to one side.

He saw the beach now; Bondi was jampacked today. It felt like half of Sydney was here, enjoying the beautiful Aussie summer sun. He hadn't brought his swimming trunks with him, but he took his shoes and socks off, walked down onto the sand, and strolled along the water's edge. He felt damp sand squishing in between his toes as ripples from roaring waves lapped at his ankles and calves. At a halfway point along the stretch, just near where the lifeguards' safety flags were placed for today, he looked out to sea. Over the tops of cresting waves, gazing at the distant horizon, he could almost make out the curvature of the earth.

He smiled. This was gonna be a good week. He took some photos on his phone and sent them to his wife.

Oscar sat on the lush grassy area between the sand and the street, waiting for his feet to dry. He brushed off clumps of caked sand before resuming his footwear.

He found a café nearby and bought himself a burger for lunch.

He caught the bus back to the city centre and returned to his room. His t-shirt was saturated with sweat. He knew from years of experience just how sticky Sydney can get in summer, and just to be sure, he'd packed eight t-shirts for his five night stay. He took a quick shower, and as he dried himself off, he felt a little lethargic, probably from the intensity of the walk. Time for a recharge. Before pulling the blackout blinds down and crawling between the sheets, he made sure he had his ticket ready for tonight.

Oscar set an alarm on his phone -- he didn't want to nap too long.

*

Sydney was only six or seven weeks away from the famous annual Mardi Gras parade. Oscar had only ever been once. He would've been about nineteen years old. His girlfriend at the time wanted to watch the parade, and while he pretended to be reluctant, inside, he was curious as hell. Crowds gathered early that afternoon, which caught Oscar and his girl by surprise. Standing at the edge of the road as the parade began, they were five or six people deep and neither of them could see clearly. "Wait here," said Oscar. "I've got an idea."

He ran into a back alley for a second, re-emerging with a pair of milk crates, one in each hand, that he'd nicked from a bread shop. They stood on one each, and suddenly they were head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. Just as the Dykes on Bikes motored past, proudly revving their motorcycle engines, his girlfriend hugged him. "We're the Straights on Crates, babe!" she giggled. Oscar smiled back and kissed her. Inside, he knew he wasn't completely straight. He knew what he *wasn't*, but on the other hand, he didn't know what he *was*.

That relationship ended soon after, and it was mostly Oscar's fault. He felt like he was deceiving her in some way, though he couldn't bring himself to tell her why. Fuck, he couldn't even tell *himself* why. All he knew was something wasn't right. Whenever they fucked, he thought of men, and he felt ashamed. He told her he wanted out. It was easier that way. She cried, then the anger arrived. She started throwing things at him. He let her. He thought she had the right.

Oscar was single for a year or two. He played the field on Tinder, finding no shortage of women who were keen to hook up with him. He kept his emotional distance, knowing he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not after what happened last time.

In hindsight, Oscar thought, it was only a matter of time before he migrated from Tinder to Grindr. One afternoon, after beating off to a vintage clip of two dudes with big dicks getting it on in a public bathroom, he downloaded the app. He wrote his profile, uploaded a couple of face pics, and tested the waters. His behaviour was furtive. He told nobody. As far as his close friends knew, Oscar was on an unluckily long stretch between girlfriends. It was during this time that Oscar moved away from the city he grew up in.

By the time he met his next girlfriend, now his wife, he was comfortable with his bisexuality. He had a dream one night. He was in a swimming pool. It was a perfect summer day, the sky was a clear deep blue, and the water felt beautifully cool as it rippled across his smooth brown skin. He was holding a soccer ball beneath the surface of the water. It took some effort to keep the ball submerged, because it was buoyant and it wanted to bob up to the surface. Oscar kept trying to hold the ball under the water, but eventually he ran out of energy and patience. He let the ball go, and it did exactly what it was destined to do -- it rose to the surface. When he woke up, he knew his truth. It was hard to keep such an important part of him hidden from view, and the effort was wearing him down. By now, he'd told one or two people he felt he could trust.

He knew he wasn't gay; he was still into women and still prowled for hookups on Tinder. That's where he met his wife. They met for a drink and a chat, and on their very first date, he told her he was bisexual. If she didn't like it, no harm done; hey, they'd only just met. Surprisingly for Oscar, she took it onboard. In fact, she was a little curious and asked him a few questions. This was where she learned he had a Grindr account, and that he was 'versatile'. He had to explain to her what that meant.

Back then, she was cool with Oscar's bisexuality, sometimes even joining him in threesomes with another man. But as the years went by, her preferences changed and hardened, especially after marriage. She and Oscar still had sex from time to time, though it was becoming less and less frequent. She assumed he was still using the app, finding what he needed elsewhere, though she never asked and he never told. She knew she couldn't ever change his orientation, not that she ever really wanted to anyway. But she wished he'd stop acting upon it, though she'd never actually said this to him. She probably never would, either -- maybe it was too late to change the rules. She drew a hard line at women, though. If she ever found out he'd fucked another chick, she sometimes said, she'd cut his balls off.

Oscar had always wanted to go to the Mardi Gras parade again, but he felt uncomfortable suggesting it to his wife. He knew saying 'see ya babe, heading to Sydney for MG, gonna fuck strangers, don't wait up' would've gone down like a lead balloon with her. But tonight's event was, maybe, a substitute.

His wife knew Oscar was in Sydney, of course, to do those long coastal walks she knew he loved, but she didn't know what he was planning to do tonight.

She didn't ask, and he didn't tell.

*

Oscar's alarm sounded, and he padded to the bathroom for a piss. He yawned, hands on hips, as he sprinkled the toilet bowl. It was five in the afternoon. He lifted the blackout blinds and squinted as the bright afternoon sun poured into the room.

He dressed casually -- a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He wrote down the street address of his destination and doublechecked transport logistics on his phone. While he was still familiar with Sydney's rail network, he was a bit hazy when it came to buses. He made sure he knew which bus stop he needed to walk to, what number to catch, and where to get off. Oscar stared at himself in the mirror and took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. He grabbed his wallet, phone, backpack and room key, then closed the door behind him.

He waited at the bus stop for the 333, sweating in the January heat. Leaving from Circular Quay, these wheels would eventually end up at North Bondi, but they'd travel down Oxford Street to get there. That's where Oscar was headed. He jumped out near Taylor Square. He felt anxious. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach.

He wasn't hungry, but he knew he should eat something. Tonight, there'd be no fancy restaurant with a Michelin star. He ordered a kebab from a Lebanese takeaway and sat at cheap plastic table while he waited for it. He scrolled through socials on his phone. The table hadn't been cleaned from the previous customer, and a couple of stray blowflies feasted on scraps. The table rocked back and forth when he leaned on it, but the flies didn't care. Oscar walked to the counter to collect his lamb sandwich, sat back down and began eating. It was dry, but he choked about half of it down. He couldn't stomach much more.

He checked Google Maps on his phone. He was only a few streets away, but he wanted to be sure that when he left the takeaway, he was walking in the right direction. He doublechecked the street address. He needed to walk one and a half blocks from here, back towards the city.

At he stopped at the pedestrian crossing, watching traffic, one single thought pounded through his head. 'You don't have to do this. You can turn around. Or just keep walking. You don't have to do this.' Oscar nodded to himself. He'd never done this before, and it'd take all the bravery in the world if he was going to do it now.

The lights changed, and with dozens of others, Oscar crossed the street. Looking up at the shop signs above his head, he could see it now, becoming clearer and clearer as he continued to approach. He was sweating profusely now, from a combination of Sydney's summer heat and his own internal anxiety.

Three shopfronts to go. 'You don't have to do this ... you don't have to ... you can just keep walking past ... maybe it'd be for the best ...'

Feet on footpath. He wiped sweat from his brow.

Two shopfronts, and then suddenly, it was just next door. His heart was beating like a fucked clock. 'You don't have to ...'

Oscar almost threw his body sideways. Suddenly he wasn't on the street anymore. He was in a small room.

He looked around. He noticed a few shelves stacked with vibrators, dildoes and anal toys of all shapes and sizes. Latex, leather and rubber garments for sale hung on walls next to a collection of chains and whips. A man stood behind a counter, with a laptop computer and a credit card reader on standby for transactions. On the wall behind him were a range of buttplugs and prostate stimulators.

Oscar turned around to take another look at the dildo shelf, and his eyes widened in surprise. He'd played with one or two big dicks in his time, but some of those dildos would put him in hospital. He couldn't do the mental maths. Perhaps fortunately, St Vincent's was only three or four blocks from here. He imagined wry smiles on the faces of triage nurses.

He noticed how cool the room was. It was air conditioned to within an inch of its life.

"See anything you like?" asked the man behind the counter.

Oscar cleared his throat. "I'm here for the bate club." He reached into his pocket to retrieve his ticket. It was a printout of the electronic receipt he'd been sent when he registered online. There was a QR code in the centre of the page. Clumsily, he tried to give it to the man behind the counter. Despite the air conditioning, his hands were clammy.

"They don't work," said the man.

"Huh?" Oscar was confused.

The man pointed to the laptop. "Won't scan. The QRs, I mean." He paused. "Doesn't matter. When you registered, you would've needed to type in your name and phone number. Give me your number and I'll look you up on the computer."

Oscar muttered his mobile number, but the man behind the counter frowned. "Not in here."

"Bugger," said Oscar. This was a bad idea. His anxiety intensified. This was taking way too long. He seriously thought about running away, wanting to forget this ever happened.

"Tell me again."

Oscar recited his number a second time.

The man shook his head. "Fuck. Not sure what's going on here, dude. Tell me your name instead. Let's try that way."

Oscar surrendered his first and last names, and the man behind the counter finally smiled. "Ah, there you are. Found you." He handed him a towel, and a rubber wrist band with an electronic sensor built into it.

"What's this for?" Oscar mumbled. "I'm new to this."

The man knew Oscar wasn't asking about the towel. "This is for your locker. Your locker number is printed on the inside of the band. Put all your stuff inside the locker, close it, and then swipe the sensor over the reader on the locker door. When it beeps, all your stuff is safe. It means you don't have to carry anything around."

Oscar nodded. Sounded like a good idea. After checking his locker number, he pulled the rubber band around his wrist. "Where are the lockers? Where do I go?"

"Up those stairs," said the man, pointing to his left. "They'll be right in front of you."

Oscar was inside the dark bowels of the venue now. He smelt the artificial cleanliness only weapons-grade disinfectant can deliver. He sat on a small wooden bench next to the lockers, mindlessly hiding his wallet and phone inside his backpack. He put the bag inside his locker, closed the door, and locked it.

He draped his towel over an arm and walked up another flight of stairs, still fully clothed.

Two men stood at the top of the stairs, each fully naked. "Here for the bate club?" one inquired.

"Yeah," whispered Oscar. What else was he gonna do up here, fill in his tax form? He glanced at their cocks. The coolness of the air conditioned room downstairs was forgotten. It was hot up here, and suddenly he noticed his mouth was dry.

"You're in the right place," smiled the other, "but you might wanna lose some of your clothes first. You don't have to if you don't want to, but. You can wear as much or as little as you feel comfortable with, but past experience suggests people enjoy it more when they're nude."

The penny dropped for Oscar. "Sorry. I'm new to this. I haven't done this before. I don't know how everything works." He walked back down to the lockers and stripped off. His penis was shrivelled from fear, and he felt a little self-conscious of it, maybe even embarrassed. He desperately wanted to feel comfortable here, he desperately wanted to have a good time, but right now, he wasn't sure how that was gonna happen.

It wasn't too late to leave. All he had to do was give his towel and wristband back to the man at the counter and walk away. He thought hard for a moment, frowning. Deep down, he knew he wanted to do this. All it required was a bit of courage.

Eventually, Oscar stuffed his clothes into his backpack and relocked his locker. He wrapped his towel around his naked waist and padded back upstairs.

"Welcome back," said one of the naked guys, smiling to welcome the confused newbie. "I'm Steve. And you are?"

"I'm Oscar." He gulped. "I'm a bit nervous. My mouth is dry as fuck. Is there any water?"

"Just over there," Steve replied, pointing to a table holding a few dozen disposable plastic cups and three or four jugs of chilled water. He paused for a second, sizing Oscar up as he stroked his thick black beard. "You know the rules, right?"

"I think so, yeah." Oscar had read them thoroughly online. As Steve spoke, Oscar checked the sexy bear out. He noticed a tattoo on his arm and another on his hairy chest.

"The history of bate clubs goes back to San Fran and New York City in the 80s. It was a way for men to gather and express their sexuality at a time when HIV was rampant. I wasn't around then, and I bet you weren't either, but everyone knows how terrifying it was. Many gay men lived in fear of their lives. Some withdrew from society, lost physical contact with their community, and became isolated. So groups began to form where men could gather for a drink, touch each other, and jerk each other off. To help keep everyone safe from the virus and STIs, oral and anal were off limits. So there's none of this tonight," said Steve, pointing to his mouth, "and none of this either," he said, pointing to his ass. "Understood?"

Oscar nodded. "Yep." He sipped his water, glancing down at Steve's flaccid uncut meat.

"And the pandemic we all just lived through reminded us of that history. Even though HIV isn't the life-threatening ogre it once was, we were all cut off from each other again. So when lockdowns were lifted, a few of us decided to start a club where men could jerk off together, and here you are, joining us, so welcome."

Oscar smiled nervously.

Steve continued. "There's two other rules you need to know."

Oscar waited.

"Here's the first. No means no, and I shouldn't have to spell that out any further. Men can tell you to stop if you go too far with them, and you can do the same if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable. Capiche?"

"Capiche." Oscar tried to smile again, but his nerves got in the way. He hoped it didn't look like he was having a seizure.

"The final rule should be equally obvious. Whatever happens here, stays here. Look around. If you recognise anyone here, if you know anyone here, respect their privacy."

Oscar nodded again. "Totally," he said, scanning the room, knowing he'd want and expect the exact same respect. Even though the space was dimly lit, he was confident he didn't recognise anyone. Though he couldn't be sure, maybe he was the only one here from out of town.

Most men still wore their towels around their waists, but those who were better endowed were already displaying themselves. Some small talk broke out, and it became clear to Oscar that some of the attendees already knew each other, either from previous bate sessions or from outside of it. He wondered whether any of the men were partnered, or maybe even married -- probably, he thought. Most were middle aged Caucasians, though there were a few of Asian extraction. He didn't see anyone dark skinned, and he thought he might be the only one in the room with Latin blood. Glancing around, his skin seemed to be the brownest.

Oscar tried to join in the small talk, pointing out that he didn't live in Sydney but was in town for the week and he thought coming to a bate club might be fun. Things like this didn't exist where he lived. Some of the other men asked a few questions of him, and Oscar felt slightly more comfortable. Even so, he was a long way from feeling relaxed, and he worried that his jangled nerves might get in the way of an erection.

"Anyway, you're cute," said Steve. "Thanks for coming, and I hope you have fun. I'll leave you to it for now, but hopefully I'll see you a bit later." He wandered off to talk to some others, and Oscar watched his towelled ass sway as he walked away.

Another man walked over towards Oscar. His loose towel threatened to fall, and he held it in place with his fist. "Hey. I'm Billy." He studied Oscar's face. "You're new, right? I don't remember seeing you here before."

The first thing Oscar noticed was Billy's short red hair. Though the light was dim, he thought he saw pale blue eyes, full pink lips, and a light smattering of freckles across his cheeks. Billy's right nostril was pierced, and Oscar noticed a colourful tattoo that stretched from his left shoulder to his wrist. "Yeah. This is my first time. I'm new. My name's Oscar. Nice to meet you." He finished his cup of water.

"Nice to meet you too," said Billy, and as he held out a friendly hand for Oscar to shake, his towel fell to the floor. Oscar gasped as he glanced down. Billy's six inches were already standing to attention. "You can touch it if you like." He stared confidently into Oscar's eyes.

Oscar nearly swooned. Billy watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

"It's OK," whispered Billy. "I want you to."

Oscar's trembling fingers touched the head of Billy's cock. His heart was racing. Looking around the room, towels were dropping. Small talk was over; shit was about to go down.

"You're cute," said Billy. "Look what you did to me," he pouted.

Oscar's fingertips explored Billy's shaft.

"Can I touch you too?" Billy asked, and Oscar nodded. He undid his towel and caught it in his fist, standing fully naked in the bate space for the first time. He wasn't fully erect, but he was grateful and relieved that his shrivelled penis had finally come out to play. "You've got a nice dick," Billy smiled, "and I love your chest. I can tell you work out." Their eyes met. "Come with me. Let me show you around."

Oscar followed him into a small nook that was currently unoccupied. There were a few cushions scattered on the floor. "This is a good place to lay down and jack off by yourself. Sometimes, this is a quiet place to catch your breath, but other times, it's the centre of everything."

Oscar nodded, not quite understanding.

"Let me show you something else," said Billy.

Oscar followed him into a cube-shaped room that was either painted black or was lined with black plastic. Given the lack of natural light, he couldn't tell. A short ladder led up a few stepped levels to where Billy now sat. He patted the space next to him, inviting Oscar to join him.

Techno music pounded Oscar's ears as he sat down next to Billy. It reminded him of the high-intensity soundtrack that he either turned down or muted whenever he was gooning at home. He wondered why the music was playing and why it was so loud -- maybe it was to keep everyone energised, though he wasn't sure. He held his towel in his hands. For a second, he considered draping it over his junk but didn't.

Fuck, it was hot in here. It felt like a million degrees.

On the wall, four video screens showed porn. On one screen, a cute young twink with floppy hair jammed a dildo back and forth inside his hungry boipussy. His mouth gaped open in bliss at how good it felt to fuck himself. On another, two black dudes kissed deeply, their thick pink tongues mashing together. The third showed a tattooed alpha white dude bending over, spreading his cheeks to show off his hole, and the fourth screen showed a big-dicked dude in a basketball singlet ploughing a slutty manbitch from behind.

Two older gentlemen sat in a corner, stroking themselves to the cornucopia of gay porn.

Oscar suddenly noticed there were tubs of lubricant spaced throughout the room. Billy's hand dived into one, scooping out some of the viscous liquid. He spread it onto his dick before leaning over to tongue Oscar's ear. Fireworks detonated in the base of his brain. "Which clip do you like the best?" Billy whispered.

For Oscar, this was total sensory overload. "Umm ... that one," he said, pointing at the fourth screen, "but the twink over there fucking his hole is hot as fuck, too."

"That's exactly what I would've said," cooed Billy. He sat back and casually dropped his hand into Oscar's lap.

"Fuck," seethed the half-Latino as he felt Billy's hand teasing his shaft. He still felt nervous, but he was hard now, no doubt about it.

"I like your dick," Billy complimented.

"I like yours too," said Oscar. Their hands were in each other's laps now.

They jacked each other off while they watched porn.

"Where are you from?" asked Billy, shouting over the techno. His fingers cupped Oscar's balls.

"Huh?"

"Where are you from?"

Oscar was confused. "I live in Canberra."

Billy shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant ... I mean ... like ... you look ... a bit exotic." He regretted the word as soon as he said it, though Oscar's feathers were unruffled.

"My mum is from Puerto Rico," said Oscar. "She's naturalised now, but ..."

"I thought you might've been Latino," Billy interrupted. "That's so fucking hot, dude." He stroked Oscar's dick just a little faster, feeling it stiffening in his fist. He studied Oscar's face as he fixated on the porn. His gaze had migrated back to the first screen, where the cute twink with the floppy hair was just about to make himself cum. He let go of Oscar's cock just as he was about to reach the point of no return. "Well, see ya later," he said, getting up and moving away.

Oscar sat there, stunned. His dick throbbed. He couldn't ever remember feeling this horny in his life.

He knew it wouldn't be cool to follow the sexy redhead. Even though it was just his first night here, he felt the expectation to mingle, though he wasn't quite sure how to. While Billy had approached him, he didn't know how to approach others. He still didn't know how brave he felt. He sat still for a while, letting his erection soften a little. He scooped some goo out of a tub and played with his balls for a while.

After a few minutes, he stood up to explore some more. He checked out the nook Billy showed him earlier. He arrived to find two men lying down, groping each other. One had a pair of fingers jammed inside the other's ass, and the other was pushing back hard. As Oscar let that image imprint itself upon his scrambled mind, he realised one of the men was Steve, the bear who'd laid down the law earlier. He watched him fuck his partner's hand as he furiously jerked himself off.

Oscar wasn't sure about etiquette. Billy had made his first few moments so easy, but he remembered what Steve had said about no meaning no. His cock rose to full mast again as he watched Steve impaling himself on his partner's hand, but knew that if he tried to get involved, he'd ruin the mood. They wouldn't know who he was. He crawled into the space beside them to watch, jamming a finger into his own ass.

He saw Steve's eyes clench shut and his mouth gape open as he came all over his stomach and fist.

Watching Steve lick his nut off his knuckles after being viciously handfucked to orgasm was one of the hottest things Oscar had ever seen in his life. He tried so fucking hard not to bust, but he was right on the edge. He quickly pulled his finger out of his ass. He needed an urgent timeout, but he wasn't gonna get it here.

Walking around the dimly lit space, Oscar saw people peeling off into twos and threes, kissing each other, sucking each other's nipples, fondling each other, touching each other, stroking each other. He wondered what Billy was up to. He saw a pair of bears sniffing poppers as they fondled each other's meat. He'd never tried poppers before, though he was intensely curious. For a second, he thought about joining them to see if they'd let him, but again, he didn't want to intrude. Keeping his distance, he noticed they were both wearing cockrings, and he suddenly remembered that toys were allowed. He regretted not packing his favourite buttplug.

Now that he knew his way around the space -- well, kind of -- Oscar returned to the porn cube. The scenes had changed. On the first screen, he watched two skinny emos getting it on. On the second, a sexy Brazilian with an intractable erection stood at a urinal struggling to pee, while the dude standing next to him offered to help. The third showed a classic Blacks On Boys scene involving a massive BBC and a fat whiteboi ass, while the fourth broadcast a compilation of cumshots spewing from cocks of all colours, shapes and sizes.

An elderly bespectacled man sat down next to him, stroking his tiny cock. Oscar didn't want this. He knew he could say no, but he wasn't sure how cool it'd be if he did. In some ways, he pitied the man. He'd probably lived most of his life hiding an important part of his inner life from the world, yet now, here he was, in his later years, finally able to express himself with men. On Grindr, Oscar routinely ignored older men who tapped him or tried to initiate a conversation. He tensed up as he felt a dry, webby hand groping at his junk. He did his best to focus on the porn. After a few minutes, the man stood up and walked away, and internally, Oscar heaved a sigh of relief. He knew he'd be old one day too, but he didn't want to think about that right now.

A younger Asian dude sat down beside him. The room was full now, and he got the impression that the Asian wanted to be left alone to bate, but something about the way his knee kept rubbing up against Oscar's couldn't be ignored. In response, Oscar began pushing his own knee into the Asian's space, somewhat accidentally-on-purpose, just to see what might happen. After a few minutes, Oscar felt the Asian move closer.

He felt wet fingertips teasing his nipples. "Fuck," he seethed, feeling his dick grow an extra half an inch.

The Asian dude leaned towards him. "I hate these rules," he said. "I wish I could suck you off."

Oscar felt a hand wrap itself around his painfully erect shaft.

"I want you so fucking bad."

He didn't reply.

"Like, I could just kneel down in front of you right now, and I'd suck you until you busted in my mouth."

Oscar's eyes opened wide. His heart raced.

"I haven't seen you here before," said the Asian.

"Yeah ... I'm new, I guess." He let the Asian dude fondle his manhood. He felt a nose nuzzling his neck, then a pair of hungry lips on his ear, then his cheek, and then an insistent finger on his jaw. The Asian dude planted a kiss on his lips, hoping Oscar's mouth would open to welcome his hungry tongue, but it didn't. The Asian guy stroked Oscar's dick for another moment or two before he stood up and walked away.

Techno pummelled Oscar's brain. He'd totally lost track of time. He got up to pace the space again. Feeling thirsty, he walked to the water station. He poured himself a cup and drank it, then another, then another. He saw Billy in the distance, jacking himself languidly as he watched a pair of bears writhe and moan and kiss.

He walked over and stood next to him. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," said Billy.

They jerked off side by side as they watched the show.

"You're so fucking cute," Billy whispered as he wrapped his fist around Oscar's shaft, tugging hard.

Oscar lost his fucking mind. He grabbed Billy's jaw and buried his tongue in his mouth. He moaned as his dick finally twitched, splashing cannons of thick sperm onto Billy's taut abdomen.

Billy dipped his fingers into the sweet wetness dripping down his stomach. He lifted a droplet of semen to his mouth. He sucked his fingertips dry with a wry smile.

Oscar's brain imploded.

Billy gave him a slutty grin and a wink before prancing away.

"Hey," said Steve, creeping up from behind, "are you enjoying yourself?"

"Fuck, man, like ..." Right now, Oscar's mind was fried. He struggled to form complete sentences.

Steve knew Billy was a nice boy, though he'd had a troubled past, possibly even a criminal one. He didn't know the first thing about the Latino newbie. Fuck, he couldn't even remember his name, all he knew was he was from out of town. "Hey, so I've got a question for you. Come over here." Steve wrapped a heavy hand around Oscar's naked waist and let him to a quieter part of the room. "We have this thing," he said. "You might be interested. Or maybe not, but I wanna ask. And you can say no if you don't want to."

"Huh?" Given how loud the music was, Oscar genuinely hadn't heard what Steve said.

"You might've noticed most people haven't busted yet."

Oscar hadn't. He didn't reply.

"Do you know what a bukkake is?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, we usually offer it to newbies first."

Oscar said nothing.

"Just looking around the room, I reckon most guys here tonight would love to bust on you."

"On me?" gulped Oscar.

"I mean, sure, yeah." Steve paused. "You're cute as fuck, but no pressure, dude. Like I said, you can say no, I'm just offering. We've got other men here who've been at bukkake ground zero before, so if you don't want to, that's cool. We'll get someone lined up sooner or later, but I thought I'd give you first dibs, if you know what I mean."

"OK," Oscar nodded.

Steve needed to confirm. "So that's a yes?"

"That's a yes." Oscar, married ten years with two beautiful children, was about to be at the centre of a bukkake. "What do I do?"

"In a few minutes," Steve explained, "kneel in the space where we met each other earlier tonight. Grab a cushion or two to kneel on, and I'll let everybody know."

Oscar took the opportunity to guzzle some more water. He might need it. Quietly, he walked to the small nook out back and gathered some cushions. He assumed the position.

The brain-drilling techno ended. "We've got a willing newbie tonight, men," Steve declared. "You know what to do, and you know what he wants."

The elderly gent who'd sat next to Oscar earlier stepped up to take his shot. He fired but missed; his weak load dribbled down his fingers and onto the floor. The next dude had better aim and force; Oscar's neck caught the first couple of streaks. The next guy stepped closer, and his thick nut drooled onto Oscar's cheek, some of it seeping into his open mouth.

Oscar felt emboldened at the sudden taste of cum. He felt like a slut who'd been starved of what he craved. "You blokes are fucking useless," he shouted. "I'm here on my knees waiting to be fed. So fucking feed me!"

Game on.

Steve stepped up and busted right into Oscar's mouth. It tasted so fucking good. "See?" shouted Oscar, eyes bulging, licking his lips, swallowing hard. "That's how you do it, boys. Next!"

Ten, twenty, maybe even thirty loads later, Oscar regretted not bringing his swimming goggles with him. His mouth was full, his tongue tingled, his cheeks were drenched, and he knew that when this was done, he'd need to find a chemist to buy some eyedrops. But there was one cock he still wanted that he knew he hadn't had.

Through bleary eyes, he made out Billy's distant silhouette as it slowly moved closer.

"Cum in my mouth," Oscar whispered, his hungry bloodshot eyes pleading.

Billy wedged six hard inches deep into Oscar's open throat, and his cock flexed as it flooded Oscar's slutty half-Latino mouth.

This was an obvious breach of bate club rules, but Steve had noticed Billy and Oscar cross paths once or twice tonight. Maybe they were into each other. Even though it should never have happened, he decided to give each of them a pass for now. He'd email them later.

Oscar, still on his cushioned knees, gazed up at Billy. "Thank you," he mouthed. His face was a fucking mess.

In return, Billy smiled.

*

As the event ended, Steve showed Oscar where the showers were. His hair, face, neck and chest were caked with drying semen, but the showers were top notch. The water pressure was strong enough to tackle bushfires, and the shampoo, conditioner and bodywash did their jobs. He washed his face slowly and methodically, and when he was done, Oscar was presented with a fluffy white towel. "This is what bukkake newbies get," Steve declared. "Keep it when you're done; the towel is your trophy. Take your time to dry off and get changed, nobody is in any hurry. I know you said you don't live in Sydney, but you're welcome to play with us anytime." He paused. "By the way, someone stayed behind to talk to you. This is unusual, and I can't remember it ever happening before, but it's the cocky cunt that jammed his cock in your mouth, in defiance of all the rules ..."

Oscar immediately knew who Steve was referring to. Billy. His heart leapt.

"I said before," Steve recalled, "that whatever happens in Bate Club, stays in Bate Club." He paused for a moment. "Unless, that is, you don't want it to."

Billy approached.

"Hey," said a somewhat nervous Oscar. His mouth still tingled with the taste of sperm.

"G'day," replied Billy. "You got any plans for tonight, sexy Canberra boy?"

Oscar smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "Yeah nah," came the reply, and Billy grinned a broad Australian grin, immediately knowing what those two words meant when said side by side.