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Rave, Crave, Misbehave

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They all meet on the dark web. It’s not as bad as it sounds, Michael would protest, if he ever actually told tale of their meet-cute. It’s not any particularly black part of the dark web, no terrorism or mutilation sites. It’s merely a specific kind of porn site. Like xTube mixed with GoFundMe, everyone chipping in where they can. Or maybe it’s more like the filthy fandom kink memes Candace has showed him. People post ideas about fantasies and kinks, objects or movements that are too specific to ever make it into a random porno. The community is full of people posting, and reading other people’s posts. When a user finds something they think they can do, they try it. If they like the camera angles, they post a reply with a upload embedded. Every member has a profile, but it’s up to them what privacy settings they pick, and how honest they are about any information posted. There are two basic schools of thought about it, one being be as anonymous as possible, the other the harsh realism of if someone wants your identity in this day and age they’re going to get it, so what’s the point in trying to hide.

Michael sees Gavin and Jeremy first. Not that he knows those are their names yet, names take a while. He’s reading through a rec list of Weird Shit I’ve Seen This Week, and clicks link after link, mostly clicking back out thirty seconds in, watching a few ‘til completion. It’s only when he clicks a link to a post requesting ravers fucking that Michael has a real reaction.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, is the thing. It opens on a blond boy with pink streaks in his hair, big stripes like the late nineties just came crawling back. He’s in a crop top, a pair of white shorts glowing in the neon lights, purple fur boots. Beside him is this compact man, thick but built. He’s got orange chaps over purple short shorts, and somehow makes that work with an orange and purple pinstripe suit jacket. The same two colours are in his hair, a cowboy hat discarded on the floor. The one Michael mentally names Rosegold impatiently pulls Orange Purple down a linoleum hallway. Judging by the banks of lockers and defaced posters, the party is happening in an broken into or abandoned school. The camera person follows them to a washroom, lit by a dozen flashlights propped up. Rosegold puts his face against a poster detailing hand washing technique, bent over the sink enough that his ass is greatly sticking out. Orange Purple watches Rosegold slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pull down his shorts.

The flashlights can’t reveal a glinting ass, so it comes as gut punching surprise when Rosegold immediately takes two fingers. Just glides them in, like a knife through butter. Orange Purple grins at the camera, gesturing with pride. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and approaches his lover. It’s only when Orange Purple takes a step back to let the camera guy get a view that the audience -that Michael- can see the glow stick half pushed into Rosegold’s ass.

“I want you to squeeze,” Orange Purple says. “Squeeze until it pops out of you like a champagne cork.”

Rosegold shakes his ass at the camera. A slow, smug pussycat twitch. Then Michael gets the joy of seeing Rosegold pushing inches of glowing pink plastic out of him until Orange Purple is forced to catch it before it falls to the floor. Orange Purple crooks his thumb against the curve of Rosegold’s asshole before he pushes the glow stick back inside his friend.

“Ry, you got...” Orange Purple trails off in an upnote, making it a question.

Luckily, Ry can interpret the semi question. There’s a shaking of the camera as it becomes held in only one hand, only for a blurry object to appear in front of it. Ry fixes focus and it resolves into a ziplock bag full of unbroken glow sticks. It’s hard to tell by the light of a few flashlight beams in the distance but it looks like there’s at least a dozen. They’re all the real camping kind, not the thinner than licorice party kind; six inches long, about a half inch wide. The only difference between these and the kind his parents dolled out when Michael and his brothers went camping is back in his day is those only came in greenish yellow. Rosegold’s ass has already proven Ry brought new colours.

Orange Purple pulls two out of the bag before sitting it onto the counter. He cracks the first with both hands, holding the second between his pinky and ring finger. He is wearing a ring on his ring finger, but he’s got a few more, the kind of guy who just clutters his fingers, so Michael doesn’t think it means anything. These ravers aren’t, like, married. Once the first is glowing, this time a bright magenta, Orange Purple switches it to his left and cracks the last open. It’s blue.

He pushes them into Rosegold with some ease. Three together can only be as wide as the average dildo, something anyone could take. Rosegold moans like he thinks so too, like a hard fast press of three into him is exactly what he needs. As Orange Purple works his hand, Rosegold whimpers several more times. If Michael is so fucking hard at the sight, the sound of it is even hotter.

The fourth glow stick goes in via Orange Purple separating the existing three and pushing the green plastic between them all. It goes fairly quickly, diameter widening as the stick pushes in all the way.

“I bet, I bet you picked all the orange and purples,” Rosegold groans out. His voice is half a joke, but he just can’t pull off jovial correctly with four objects inserted and a rock hard dick.

“You’d be surprised,” he replies.

Rosegold handles the same technique of pushing the new glow stick in the middle of the approximate circle for the fifth, and sixth, and seventh. It’s then that he breaks. Or at least it looks that way to Michael. Rosegold shudders at being stretched to seven. Basic math says he’s stretched two and a half inches, and that has to feel huge. Michael hasn’t fooled around with toys that big, but fuck. It looks intense.

Orange Purple doesn’t stop there. He takes a minute to resoak Rosegold’s ass in lube, and coat the eighth in a continuous coverage. Rather than go in the middle Orange Purple pushes it against the edge of Rosegold’s asshole, tugging the rim of him even further away. Rosegold moans, loudly, and Orange Purple starts to coddle him.

“You can take more, I know you can. Do you want to try, for me?” Orange Purple shakes a few onto the counter impatiently, like the wait of reaching into the bag is intolerable. Despite that, Michael can see such an expression of adoration that he knows if Rosegold tapped out, Orange Purple would have him in his arms in moments.

“Give it all to me,” Rosegold whispers, the camera person quickly stepping closer to catch it. Smart move. The dirty talk that babbles out of Rosegold as he begs for the ninth, the tenth, the eleventh is phenomenal. It’d be criminal if Michael couldn’t hear it.

The insertion has to be the width of a sofa can now. Wider, even. Michael cranks his cock extra hard for a moment imagining Orange Purple spotting a discarded can on the floor and pulling the glow sticks out to plug him with a can before focusing on what’s really at hand. Orange Purple is rocking the cluster of glow sticks in and out of Rosegold as he squirms and clenches on the lip of the bank of sinks. Orange Purple doesn’t have a large enough hand to grip all of them together, a fact which is outrageously hot to Michael. Getting overwhelmed is a hard kink of his, and Gavin is nothing if not crossed eyed, toe curled, jaw dropped overwhelmed. He’s trembling for god sake.

Orange Purple fucks Rosegold slowly, continuously as Ry experiments with camera angles. Micheal gets a zoom in on Rosegold’s brutally stretched hole, then a walk around shot to the side so he can see the full length of the glowsticks sliding out of him. Orange Purple stops just before the glow sticks are out completely. Smart, probably. Who knows how much Rosegold’s asshole would immediately constrict with the objects removed? It might be difficult to get all the sticks back in if they were taken out. Michael can beat off about the concept of Rosegold staying open forever, but logically bodies don’t work like that.

The doublehanded push into Rosegold speeds up as Orange Purple really focuses in on making his pretty boyfriend come apart. Rosegold’s dirty talk devolves into keens and wails, loud enough that Michael compulsively double checks his headphones are plugged into the right hole on his laptop and he’s not broadcasting this noise to the whole house. Ry continues to be the perfect camera guy, getting every angle the audience could want. He even gets the money shot; the exact moment that Rosegold orgasms and collapses onto the sink. Only Orange Purple’s quick hands stop Rosegold from bashing his head against the mirror.

Michael gets to see the beginnings of aftercare. Orange Purple tosses his pinstriped jacket onto the floor and helps Rosegold get off his feet. Rosegold groans again as his stretched ass hits the covered linoleum and the glowsticks shift, but he looks directly into the camera and says “thanks for the idea, love.”

Orange Purple makes his own statement, in the form of making a hand gesture towards the camera and quirking a smile. “Have a nice night, guys.”

Ry turns off the camera then. Or at least the uploaded video cuts off there. It’s possible Ry records more of the loving stuff, keeps it as a token of romance for the real life people Orange Purple and Rosegold are. Michael isn’t privy to that, though.

Wanting to come, but not quite at the peak yet, Michael clicks back in the video to Orange Purple encouraging Rosegold to take more for him. He begins to hyperventilate as he gets close, as Rosegold begs to be rent apart by Orange Purple. Michael orgasms watching the end again, watching these two ravers play wildly. They might not be on drugs, but they’re certainly fucked up with the passion of the scene they’ve built. Even if they are on drugs, so what? They clearly negotiated beforehand, to have brought a full Ziploc of glowsticks and so much lube, not to mention a friend willing to film.

Once Michael catches his breath he clicks the first of the two names tagged in the comment video. He doesn’t even bother to wipe up his splooge. Depending on what else these two have been up to, he might soon be adding a fresh load. The link goes to Rosegold’s profile, and from there there are a few clickable options. One lets Michael see everything Rosegold has ever written, another only comments with video data, another only posts he’s started. Michael wants to get off. He wants Rosegold to have posted a thousand video comments. He picks the video only option and is simultaneously disappointed and pleased. Rosegold has fourteen videos, nine of them with Orange Purple.

The smart choice would be to savour them, watch them over a week or two. No one on this site is a stranger to watching the same few clips over and over again, until the metaphorical DVD is skipping. When you have niche kinks and you find a video that works for you, you cling to it. Still, there’s only one first viewing. But, just like with chips or M&Ms, Michael can’t stop. He burns through Rosegold’s discography in two hours, edging the whole time. He sees the man with multiple hairstyles, sees him try out a dozen makeshift toys -half them all in a single video-, sees scenes that bring RISK into play, sees a video of him with a woman in reply to a post about polyamorous couples having one night stands. It’s in that video that Rosegold drops the most personal information he has thus far, if it’s true. If so, Rosegold is Gavin, and orange purple is Jeremy. And the woman is Jessica, but that doesn’t really matter because there’s no other videos with her and the reply doesn’t link to her profile, meaning she’s not on the site.

Michael doesn’t search for a new thread when he’s done Rosego-, no, Gavin’s videos. Instead he closes his eyes and imagines Gavin and Jeremy fucking right in front of him. He’s doesn’t get super creative with it, just Jeremy pounding Gavin to kingdom come. After all he’s already seen, his dick could use a little bit of vanilla. It doesn’t take much to fall over the edge this time, having driven himself up to the summit a dozen times already. Michael comes, muscles contracting and making him spasm in the computer chair. He cleans up with a wet wipe and logs off for the night. Work comes early. He can’t afford another hour of link spiraling through this site.