The last thing that Steven remembered before pushing the Night Club doors open was the sound of booming, boisterous laughter. Tonight, he was supposed to be preparing for a major acquisition for the firm that he co-owned, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. Truth be told, his head was feeling a bit fuzzy, and it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out that he didn’t quite have the business acumen that he was supposed to.

None of that mattered, though, as Steven walked in through the doors. He had a strange new confidence that put a swagger in his step. Even the bouncers at the door had to take a second look as he walked past them. One even pinched his ass, which was looking absolutely fine in the tight jeans that he was wearing. Well, Steven couldn’t have been sure it was the bouncer, but he looked over his shoulder at the big guy and winked, anyway.

The fog in Steven’s mind seemed to pulse and throb to the beat of the music in the club, getting thicker with every moment that he spent inside the establishment. It was hard to think, especially when the music was so loud he could scarcely hear his own thoughts in the first place. Not that it mattered. As his mind slowly emptied out, he knew what he had to do. He had a purpose, even if he didn’t know what it was.

Steven prowled across the club floor and made his way over to the bar. The cute bartender eyed him up and down and raised eyebrows in approval. Steven grinned and popped open another button on his form-fitting button-up shirt, revealing more of the beautifully bronzed skin underneath. He faintly remembered that he was supposed to not be this tan, that he was only something like a thirteenth Latino, but another set of memories asserted themselves. He wasn’t tanned. This was just his normal complexion. Although he was only a quarter Latino, those genes had been particularly strong in him.

The bartender said, "First one’s on the house," when Steven ordered himself a margarita so he decided to splurge a little and ordered a second. A few minutes later, and the drinks were little more than alcohol still tingling on Steven’s tongue. He was beginning to feel the buzz. Although how much of that was from the fog in his head, and how much of it was from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell.

Now that a Latino tune was playing over the speakers, Steven raised his arms over his shoulders and swung his half-Latino body to the beat. He shook his head and grunted with pleasure as he rolled his hips to the music, making his way to the dance floor. This was his jam! It was an old song, but a classic. He remembered it from high school with all the other Latino kids from the neighborhood.

As he had the time of his life on the dance floor, moving his body fluidly to the music, Steven noticed that he had gotten the attention of a cute, Alpha-type fratboy across the way. The guy had a lopsided smirk on his face as he made his way over to where Steven was dancing. "Hey cutie," said the big guy. "Come here often?"

Steven laughed, turning around to grind his bubble butt right into the fratboy’s groin. He had definitely inherited his ma’s hips, which the fratboy seemed to absolutely love. "For you, honey," said Steven, "I’ll come here a lot more often."

As he felt the fratboy’s erection press up into his butt cheeks through his jeans, Steven felt his own cock stir in his pants. If he had his mother’s hips, he definitely had his father’s cock. His monster slowly snaked down his leg as it stretched to its full length, pulsing and throbbing pleasurably against his thigh. "What’s your name, babe?" said the fratboy hottie.

"Esteban," said Steven. That gave him a moment’s pause. He remembered another name. His name. Steven. But what kind of a name was that for a full-blooded Latino boy when Esteban was a perfectly serviceable name? "What’s your name, hottie?" he said, turning around and grinding his crotch into the fratboy’s.

The fratboy’s eyes widened as Esteban humped his hard cock into the fratboy’s leg. "K-Kyle," the fratboy whispered, seemingly in awe. "I-Is that a banana in your pocket, or…" he said.

"No, no, papi," said Esteban, with a devilish grin. He fumbled with the button of his jeans and popped it open. He fished his cock out of his jockstrap and let it hang out for Kyle to look at. "It is one-hundred percent meat," he said.

"J-Jesus Christ…" Kyle whispered, taking the backward baseball cap off his head with his left hand and brushing his hair back with his right as Esteban stuffed his monster back into his pants. "W-Would you be open to getting out of here, Esteban?" said Kyle, chewing on his lower lip.

"I-I don’t normally bottom, but god damn I just want to know how that monster feels, Esteban," said Kyle.

Esteban grinned and traced his index finger along the curve of Kyle’s bulging bicep. "Of course, papi," he said. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," said Kyle, breathlessly.

"Did you like that, bitch," said Esteban, slapping Kyle across the face with his thick, hefty cock. Ropes of hot white cum drooped over Kyle’s face, forcing his eyes closed, dripping into his open mouth. "Tell me how much you love my taste," he said.

"God you taste so good, Esteban," Kyle moaned.

Esteban grinned and shoved his still-hard cock down Kyle’s throat. He wasn’t done yet. Not nearly. He felt he could fuck all night long, still. No doubt, by the time he was done, Kyle would be utterly ruined from topping. For the rest of his life, Kyle would crave a nice fat dick like Esteban was about to give him.

"Want more of this dick, puta?" said Esteban. Kyle nodded and moaned around his cock. "Good! You’re getting a lot more of it. When I cum down your throat, I want you to jump in bed and get that fat ass in the air. I want to see that jock pussy twitch, you understand?"