The thought of walking into a dark room wearing nothing but a towel and proceeding to get felt up by dozens of mystery hands and fingers...

was his idea of bliss, not mine. i was terrified. scared shitless. The thought of coming to a sex club was initiated as a dunken idea turned into a sobering reality of unfortunate extremes. It's not like me and him were even fucking, we just liked each others companies and felt safe enough in each others company to slowly let ourselves sink into a drug & sex fueled super oblivion where the only thing that mattered was our getting off and how fucking amazing it was going to be each and evry awesome time we did it. Now here we were, coked out of our minds- stinking of bottom shel tequila and the shy walk of a pale boy wrapped in a too small, threadbare towel, washed of a million others sins countless times before. We were facing the maze, a surreal sexual puzzle of human proportion. Dare we enter? Just as we did a little streaked blondeb twink catches my eye and signals us over to his booth. within second were sucking down rails of sticky, stinging crystal, our eyes watering with each hit and our foreheads breaking out in a clammy wet gristle. The need for more never abates and i look for an emergancy exit only to end up in the furthest reaches of the ever darkening maze- fingers fingering me, hand stroking me, tongues washing me, cocks bobbing up against me and i close my eyes and lose myself to the ritual, stirring slightly as my towel is pulled off and i feel the warm cavern of a hot and hungry hole swallowing me in one starved gulp.