NOTES: This is a stand-alone New Year’s Eve story featuring my recurring “Oz Beach Boy” character, Matt: a muscular, extremely well-hung, 25-year-old exhibitionist. This story features CFNM, public male stripping, female-of-male body worship, and two-mature-women-one-younger-man sex scenes. All characters are over eighteen. This is a work of complete fiction.
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It was New Year’s Eve in Sydney, Australia. I was passed out drunk in the street…and I didn’t realise how profoundly vulnerable I truly was.
I’d spent most of the night at the stylish apartment of a friend who lived not far from Circular Quay on Sydney Harbour, which is the loud, raucous epicentre of the city’s New Year’s Eve celebrations. The whole area was awash with revellers, and the sky was alive with vivid fireworks and pounding music.
For most of the evening, we’d been drinking, doing loads of coke, dancing (badly), and watching the fireworks from a spacious balcony with the perfect view of the colourful aerial display.
At about 2:00am, my reliably well-supplied friend Jackson Monteith produced a fat, perfectly rolled joint, which we shared outside on the balcony. This very high quality weed, unfortunately, was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Already completely wasted from all the booze and coke slamming through my system, Jackson’s surprisingly and exceedingly strong weed tipped me right over the edge into messy, drug-soaked oblivion.
Totally hammered, and with the party well and truly winding down, I bid farewell to the equally wasted Jackson — who was in the process of falling asleep on the couch — and said goodbye to the small and equally pulverised group of people who sloppily and stubbornly remained.
With my mind buzzing and my limbs disturbingly loose and disobedient, I staggered out of the front door of the apartment, down the corridor, and into the elevator. I took the long ride down to the foyer of the high-rise apartment block.
I checked myself in the large mirrors on the foyer wall. I pushed my longish, sandy brown hair back off my face, straightened out my short-sleeved button-up shirt, and hiked up my jeans a little. My eyelids were drooping, and what I could see of my eyes was bloodshot beyond belief.
I walked uncertainly outside, and the warm night air hit me in the face. With my legs wobbling hopelessly beneath me, I staggered around looking desperately for a taxi. In my drug-and-booze soaked stupor, however, I’d of course failed to recall that taxies are about as rare as hen’s teeth on New Year’s Eve.
I stumbled aimlessly around bustling Circular Quay for about ten minutes, getting continually bumped and jostled by other revellers. I soon realised that my search for a means of transport home was absolutely futile. I was stranded.
My head was spinning, I was staggeringly tired, and Jackson’s bitingly strong weed had made me horribly disoriented and frustratingly confused. In short, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was a complete fucking mess.
With party-goers everywhere and drunken women shrieking and laughing while trundling around uncertainly on their high heels, I would usually have happily inserted myself into the madness of New Year’s Eve in the lurid hopes of finding a possibly sexual situation to wedge myself into.
The previous New Year’s Eve had turned into a wonderfully raunchy night when two sexy BBWs double teamed me in public while music blared and fireworks exploded above us in the sky. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy’s New Year’s Eve Bang”] It was a truly amazing experience, and one that I’ve frequently jerked off over ever since.
Though not officially diagnosed, I’m a raging sex addict. I’m a 25-year-old narcissistic Aussie male exhibitionist who loves getting nude, preferably with women watching me.
I spend hours training to get my body as ripped and muscular as I possibly can. Though partially for health and fitness purposes, my workout regime is principally designed to get me shredded and attract female attention.
I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations whenever I can, particularly around Sydney’s many beaches and secluded coastal bays. I also frequently stroll around at night on busy weekends looking for action wherever I can find it. I am in a near perpetual state of horniness.
I’ve enjoyed a lot of sordid sex and many kinky hook-ups in my time, but thanks to my truly sorry booze-and-drug drenched state, this New Year’s Eve looked like it was going to be a flat bust…or so I thought.
With my head heavy, my eyes bleary, and my legs weak, I was desperate to lie down and rest. In such a frazzled, demotivated state, I didn’t even have the good sense to return to my friend’s apartment and merely crash out safely on the floor somewhere.
Instead, I spotted a small patch of grass set back from Circular Quay’s busy footpath. Dark, empty and dotted with trees, this small grassy reserve looked like it would afford almanbahis me a little privacy and solitude to catch a quick nap and hopefully sort myself out.
I staggered across the dry grass and flopped down behind a large tree, a sense of calm and comfort enveloping me as soon as I sat on the ground. It felt great to stop moving and finally sit down.
Incredibly tired, I yawned loudly, and then lay down on the grass. Blanketed by relative darkness and slightly away from the crowds, I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.
God knows how long after, I was roused from my boozy slumber by the sound of female voices right near me. Though I could distinctly hear sounds disturbingly close by, my body just failed to react.
In some kind of bizarre state of half-sleep obviously wrought by the combination of booze, coke, and Jackson Monteith’s intensely strong weed, I was far, far, far from alert, but I could certainly sense sound and movement right around me…I just couldn’t respond to it.
“Let’s do a bump here, babe,” I heard a deep, throaty, obviously mature female voice say quietly. “It’s fine…nobody can see us. It’s dark and we’re hidden by these trees. Come on, Sally…let’s go!”
“Okay, okay, Lydia,” a second female voice responded, equally mature and measured in tone. “I’ll just get the blow out of my purse. Wait a second, darling.”
I then heard the unmistakable sound of coke being hurriedly hoovered up desperate noses, followed by giggles, sniffing, snorting, more giggles, and then loud sighs.
Obviously more than a little drunk, Sally and Lydia sounded happy and energised after their sneaky bump. Their coked-up reverie came to an abrupt end, however, when the women saw me lying on the ground only a few feet away from them. Lydia and Sally shrieked in unison.
“Oh, shit,” Lydia said with obvious concern. “There’s a guy on the ground over there.”
“Was he watching us?” Sally asked her friend quietly before raising her voice. “Hey, are you right there, mate? Are you okay? What are you doing?”
Though I could clearly hear the question, I was too dazed and exhausted to answer properly, instead just letting out a series of quiet grunts and moans. I tried to sit up, but only barely managed to slightly lift myself off the ground before slumping back onto the dry grass.
“I think he’s asleep,” a slightly now more relaxed Lydia said. “He’s probably off his face and passed out. He’s alive…I heard him grunt and groan a little bit.”
Through the thick, fuzzy haze shrouding my brain, I heard movement and sensed the two women getting closer to me. Lying flat on my back with my arms outstretched at my sides and my eyes closed, I could feel Lydia and Sally looming over me, and obviously staring down at my hopelessly prone form.
“Yes, he’s definitely alive,” Sally said calmly, but with a slight slur to her voice. “He’s breathing and moving around a little bit. I don’t think we need to find a policeman or ring for an ambulance. He’s just smashed and sleeping it off.”
“Definitely, Sally,” the equally drunk Lydia said, and then giggled naughtily. “He’s very handsome. Look at his face…he looks like a model or something…or a movie star. And those strong, muscular forearms…you can see how big his arms and chest are through his shirt.”
“Lydia, you’re unbelievable!” Sally howled. “We find some poor guy passed out on the ground drunk, and you start checking him out! I know you like younger men, Lydia, but this is ridiculous!”
“Come on, Sally, you’ve got to admit it…this guy is gorgeous,” Lydia laughed. “You can’t deny it…come on! And we all like younger men…some of us just don’t admit it!”
“Okay, okay,” Sally sighed. “You’re right, Lydia…he’s very handsome, and he looks muscly too. He’s a very attractive young man indeed…very nice.”
I then felt the pointed toe of an obviously high-heeled shoe kick lightly against the sole of my right foot. There was a pause, another kick, a pause, and then another kick. I then felt the same foot pushing lightly into my ribs, clearly attempting to rouse me from my drug-and-booze-induced pass-out.
“Jesus, he’s completely hammered…he’s totally out of it,” Lydia giggled. “Hey, Sally…why don’t we have a better look at him? Let’s see how hot he really is, huh?”
“What?” Sally loudly exclaimed. “What are you talking about, babe?”
“Well, let’s just…you know…um…let’s open up his shirt and have a look at his hot body,” Lydia giggled uproariously. “Let’s check out those muscles. He’s so out of it he won’t know.”
“Oh, we can’t…we can’t do that,” Sally slurred ever so slightly. “There’s no way…”
“Oh, there’s a way,” Lydia laughed, “and we’re going to do it, Sally. I want to cop an eyeful on New Year’s Eve! This is how you bring in the New Year, babe.”
With all the strength and control I could muster, I ever so slightly managed to open up my right eyelid. I peered out hazily in the half-light, and finally got a decent look at almanbahis giriş the two ladies who were planning to naughtily defrock me in public.
Lydia was tall and curvy, with long, dark, wavy hair. Dressed in a stylish and obviously very expensive black cocktail dress teamed with black high-heel shoes and a glittery clutch, Lydia looked to be in her very late forties or early fifties. With her dark eyes and olive skin, she very well could have been of Italian or Spanish heritage.
Very, very attractive and very, very sexy, Lydia had a great body and looked like a classy lady indeed. My guess was that she and Sally had been at a fancy party in one of the high-rise buildings nearby, and the ladies were now headed off to another soiree, stopping for a quick bump along the way.
Sally was far shorter than Lydia, and though much less striking, she was very attractive too, with wavy, caramel-coloured hair, big blue eyes, and a wonderfully refined nose, perhaps the work of an obviously top-class plastic surgeon.
Also aged in her very late forties or early fifties, Sally was heavier and more buxom than Lydia, and her chintzy gold cocktail dress showed off a lot of luscious, spray-tanned cleavage. The dress was also cut surprisingly high, revealing a nice set of smooth, equally spray-tanned legs. Sally’s heels, meanwhile, were even higher than Lydia’s.
Whatever the hell was going to be done to me, I was at least happy that it would be Lydia and Sally doing it: mature, confident, beautiful and sexy, these were just the type of women I like to get sexually involved with.
That said, I’m not exactly discerning. I absolutely love women of all shapes and sizes, ages, nationalities, and religious and political persuasions. I don’t have a “type”, so to speak. These two New Year’s Eve revellers looked absolutely great, and they were getting increasingly excited as they looked down upon my body sprawled across the grass.
Barely able to see out of my right eye, I nevertheless hazily watched on as Lydia crouched down beside me, and then proceeded to undo all of the buttons on my shirt, her long fingernails brushing up against the smooth skin of my chest as she worked on me.
“Now, let’s get this shirt open, huh?” Lydia laughed once she’d unbuttoned me completely. “Let’s see what we’ve got here, huh? Just what are we dealing with, Sally? What kind of man have we stumbled across?”
With that, the tall brunette — who was still elegantly crouched down beside me in the most stylish manner, with her knees and ankles held tightly together — then pulled apart my unbuttoned shirt, wrenching it off over my chest to reveal my heavily muscled torso.
“Oh, my god,” Sally quietly sighed. “Look at that body! The sculpted muscles…and that six-pack! This guy must be a personal trainer or something…he must live in the gym.”
Lydia and Sally’s naughty treatment of me was a massive turn on. I have slightly submissive tendencies, and I love being objectified and mildly humiliated by women. These two were hot to trot, and the narcissist in me loved their enthusiasm on seeing my bare chest.
Though highly aroused, I don’t like to mess with married women (it’s one of my few “rules” when it comes to my sordid sex life), and I hoped these two sexy older women were divorcees or single…though there wasn’t much I could do about that in my state.
“Yes, he’s gorgeous,” Lydia said, and then stood up, obviously so she could better look at my whole body. “He obviously looks after himself…I think that chest is waxed, Sally! Mmmmm…I wonder what the rest of him looks like?”
“Oh, no…Lydia, don’t!” Sally giggled nervously, obviously amused but slightly worried about her friend’s behaviour. “You can’t…we’ll get in trouble. That’s too much! You can’t do that, Lydia!”
“Oh, I think I can,” Lydia said confidently, and then I felt fingers at my belt buckle, aggressively yanking at it and pulling it open. “And I just did. I’m taking this young man’s pants down, Sally, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it…especially him!”
As I quietly moaned and desperately tried to right myself and snap out of it, I felt Lydia’s long-nailed fingers digging at my waist as the sexy brunette ripped open the button of my jeans. Seconds later, Lydia slid down the zipper of my jeans too, instantly leaving me even more exposed.
“I’m gonna need your help now, Sally,” Lydia said firmly. “We’ve got to get these pants down. You get one side and I’ll get the other. I want these jeans right down around his ankles, so he can’t chase us if he wakes up. Come on, Sally!”
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…oh, my god…okay, then…let’s do it,” Sally said compliantly, seemingly accustomed to taking Lydia’s lead. “This is so naughty, but he’s just so hot!”
“He made us do it, your honour,” Lydia giggled in a mockingly serious voice. “He was asking for it! We couldn’t help ourselves! What’s a girl to do?”
Unable to get me to lift my butt up to almanbahis yeni giriş smoothly pants me, the crouching Lydia and Sally instead both gripped my jeans at the top near the pockets and then simply wrenched them down violently over my legs with beautiful brute force.
The sexy, highly determined older women pulled and yanked at my jeans until they were tangled messily around my ankles and caught above my trainers and socks. I moaned and groaned quietly as my body was pushed and pulled with the movement.
I hazily saw Lydia and Sally get up again from their crouching positions. Standing with their well-manicured hands on their enticingly curvy hips, both women looked down at me, now obviously checking out my black fitted boxer shorts and the enormous bulge within.
“Nice undies,” Sally giggled. “I like a man in Calvins.”
“I prefer a man out of his Calvins!” Lydia roared. “Look at the bulge in those shorts! This boy is seriously packing. It looks huge!”
“Do you think it’s real though?” Sally queried. “He might be a sock-stuffer, you know? To give himself a little extra size and swagger?”
With that, Lydia let forth with an outrageous laugh, and then crouched down next to me. I felt her fingers running over the muscles of my exposed abdomen, and then, taking me by complete surprise, Lydia gave my cock a gentle squeeze and a very quick stroke through my underpants, checking on the validity of my manhood.
“Oh, that’s not a sock!” Lydia howled, and gave my cock another solid squeeze. “There are no add-ons in these undies! This boy is all natural! There’s nothing in there but sexual organs, trust me!”
“Lydia!” Sally laughed. “Let go of that young man’s penis! You can’t grope him like that!”
“Do you mean like this?” Lydia laughed and then squeezed my cock again.
“Lydia, you can’t do that!” Sally howled. “You can’t!”
“I can’t do what?” Lydia laughed teasingly and then jerked my cock back and forth through my underpants. “I can’t do this? This is too much?”
Through my barely open right eye, I watched in a daze as Sally doubled over with laughter, obviously shocked and amused by her friend’s very naughty and highly inappropriate handling of me. I was beyond drunk, but one thing was certain: Lydia’s hand felt great on my cock.
“And what about this, Sally?” Lydia giggled. “Is this acceptable?”
While still fondling my cock, Lydia then bent her head down over my smooth, muscled chest and started to lick my right nipple, her long hair fanning out across my bare torso. The beautiful older woman flicked her tongue up and down across my nipple sexily, and then sucked on it forcefully with her big, full lips.
“Oh, Lydia…really, you’re too much,” Sally shrieked. “Stop sucking his tits!”
“What about this?” Lydia giggled, and then moved her attention from my cock to my balls, which she proceeded to gently fondle through my underpants. “Can I play with these?”
“Unhand that young man’s testicles immediately!” Sally joked in mock seriousness. “That is unacceptable!”
Lydia and Sally both laughed outrageously, and the taller brunette again jerked my cock back and forth through my underpants. Lydia was clearly no novice when it came to cock handling.
I quietly moaned and groaned, thoroughly enjoying what these older women were doing to me, even though I was frazzled and drunkenly confused. Despite my bleary state, I got the distinct feeling that Lydia and Sally were about to take it up a notch.
Though Sally was initially a little more reticent than the far more outrageous Lydia, the shorter woman now looked and sounded to be really warming up to this decidedly sleazy situation, and she was about to jump into it with lascivious gusto.
“Oh, my goodness…oh, my goodness…I think we should take down those underpants to check that you haven’t damaged this young man’s genitals,” Sally laughed naughtily, finally giving in to her friend’s antics completely. “You know…for medical purposes…just to check that he’s okay.”
“Oh, yes…good girl, Sally…I think you’re right,” an obviously satisfied Lydia said with mock seriousness. “That’s a very good idea…we’re just being Good Samaritans on New Year’s Eve!”
I slowly and partially opened both eyes this time. I saw Lydia and Sally kneeling down on either side of me. I then watched helplessly as the sexy older women grabbed my Calvin Klein fitted boxers and wrenched them over my hips with much struggle and difficulty, rocking my body back and forth with the aggressive movement. They then got them down my legs, before finally pushing my underpants in amongst the mess of tangled up clothing around my ankles.
I heard uproarious laughter, and then looked down to see Lydia and Sally still kneeling beside me, but now staring down at my fully exposed cock and balls, which flopped around gently as I moved slightly on the ground, attempting to rouse myself.
“Oh, my god!” Lydia howled. “It’s huge! Look at it!”
“Oh, I’m looking at it alright!” Sally screamed. “Trust me, Lydia…I’m looking at it! It’s enormous!”
“I don’t even…it’s just,” Lydia stuttered, seemingly lost for words. “I’ve seen a lot of sausage, but that’s the biggest…I’m certain of it. That’s the longest and thickest penis I’ve ever seen.”