Alex's Restaurant

You can get anything you want at Alex's restaurant. A great place to entertain a new client. It's a Topless, Bottomless place for the gay crowd.You'd probably like the menu, the food is delicious. You're issued condoms at the door and you never have to eat alone. My friend Andre, and I dropped in last Saturday after a little dancing. Harvey, our usual waiter brought us our regular white wines. He was only wearing a skimpy g-string apron which I lifted up to check out his horse-cock-d'ouevres. Very appetizing.

He promised to return later with the main course.There's only a limited selection but they have an all-you-can eat policy. The dinner show was about to start. Paraded on the walkway were three men, manly men, you know what I mean, stark-naked and buffed. Starting from a body-builder pose, they broke into dance as the music started to play. Sort of twenties jazz mixed with a hip-hop rhythm.

As a trio they started off with a kinda tap-dance. As they were nude we couldn't fail to admire their acrobatic cocks swing to-and fro to the beat. They worked in time, their bodies moving with practiced unison.They formed a train,the last two pressing their dicks against ass-cracks. They reversed, and butts and cocks got switched. Spotlights played over them picking out significant pieces of anatomy with light. One guy fell way down and knelt, sucking his buddy's cock.

The remaining standing guy straddled the 'bottom' and pulled the 'middle' guy's head to suck his erection, all of them forming a pyramid. I reached over to fondle my friend Andre's crotch. Yes, there was activity; he was getting aroused. The man-to man sex-show continued before us.The gathered crowd applauded. Alex owned the resturaunt and it was his wonderland. Harvey, our waiter, came back, sans apron and stood between me and Andre. I feasted on Harvey's dick while Andre ate Harvey's ass.

The resident compere, Mr P, came on and told a filthy joke: "Black man came up to me, called me a 'motherfucker'." "FATHERfucker, dearie ;)" They should fire him, he's too old, too pink. But he's a sweet man, so they keep him on. Harvey held our shoulders as we bashed our heads together, his body acted as a buffer. Sort of a soup or salad deal. His cock a french roll which I devoured unbuttered. Then Harvey pulled a switcheroo and I fed between Harvey's meaty melons. I tasted the artichoke heart of his ass.

The torch singers began. The one in a white tuxedo, the other in a slinky silver lame skirt that looked odd, because of the tented bulge in front. Music blared from a karioke machine as they mimed the theme song from "guess who's cumming to dinner". Harvey slipped away while me and Andre held hands, honeymooning sweethearts, swooning with sentiment at the steamy ballad. The tuxedo fell off, and the dress came down as the duo gyrated to a sexy cockswordfight. Parry, thrust, parry, touche. Face to face, they performed the sexiest standing fuck, I'd ever seen. He climaxed inside his partner, perfectly, ending on the final major sixth of the song. One man already bowing, butt plugging the other, who curtsied, and withdrew gracefully, seasoned artistes.

"See any thing you fancy?" I asked my dinner partner, Andre. "Only you, my love," slipping his hand between my legs. The place had been a bath-house and kept some of that ambience. We moved to the dining room, and stripped off with the other gourmands.

How do you begin to describe a six-way orgy? One rather elegant handsome man pointed his dick at me, clutching it like spin-the-bottle. My mouth on his dick, I accepted the invitaion, and I RSVP'd. I grasped two wall-flowering cocks in my free hands, and felt kisses on my shoulder blades, torso and buns. Someone invaded my anus, it didn't feel like Andre; I wondered what he was up to. Cock sucking the stud, his navel kept smacking against the bridge of my nose as he continued his to-and fro movements as he slid his pecker in and massaged my throat.

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The sensations of fucking travelled up, through my ass, inside my body rising up till it was picked up by the cock-microphone, ramming its way down fom the other end. The two guys I was jerking off, came simultaneously and painted my face with cum. The two dicks at my either end were protected with the condoms issued earlier along with the safe-sex lecture, they spare no expense here.

Champagne ejaculations and caviar asses. A baroque minuet played in the background. I was a honeycomb, with worker bees making honey, swarming over me, the center of attention. I was demoted to worker, and chose the twenty year old construction worker to demonstrate the dimensions of my meat thermometer, inserting it in a well prepared, ass-oven. He'd spilled his sauce over his belly, puddles of cum, baking hard on his searing hot flesh. Andre, always polite: "Is this seat taken?" And pushed his sex-shaft up my sex-chute.

Like dominoes, first Andre came in my ass, I came into the young man, and the guy who'd slipped into my mouth, when I wasn't looking, came in his latex covered dick, which I held onto with my lips, allowing him to remove his penis which spurted a second wave of cum on the youngster's face, gyrating below me, as I brought him to orgasm. All doing the wave, the speciality of the house. The waiter's came to clean us up, and their cocks waved us fond goodbye.

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