I haven’t written much lately – life interrupts the recounting life. I hope you enjoy reading about my husband’s and my fourth wedding anniversary celebration. We – and a muscleboy – enjoyed celebrating it! As always, I really enjoy and appreciate your comments and emails. Happy hardons, men!
-Bill
Anniversary Ass
An Marine’s Unexpected Gift From His Attorney Husband
by BillyC
It was Friday – my husband, the attorney’s, last day at work. More accurately, his technical last day at the law firm in which he was the senior partner and had worked since he left the Army over fifteen years before. He had accepted a judgeship a few months before, had miraculously gotten confirmed (miraculous, given the current political climate and the bitter tactics being employed in Congress by each party against the other, using the actual functioning government as playing pieces) and he was “taking the bench” on Monday. As I saw at my own desk several blocks away, he was probably signing the papers resign his managing partnership status, and to put his partnership share into a “blind trust” for so long as he remained a judge. There was some reason for the changes at the firm to be effective that particular day, the last business day before he took the bench. Those reasons – and most of my husband’s professional undertakings – were beyond my comprehension except at the macro level.
That was all Jim had to do this beautiful September Friday, so I had enthusiastically agreed to his suggestion that we take the afternoon off. When I got his text requesting/suggesting lunch at a favorite spot of ours in Georgetown “with a surprise,” I was surprised – after all, we’d planned to head out of the city and drive home to enjoy the sunny, hot late-summer afternoon weather by the pool.
I got to Filomena’s a few minutes before noon, and as always, the greeting was warm. I even ran into one of the Nats’ outfielders who seemed to like the restaurant as much as we did, given the number of times we’d seen him there – surely his coach or trainer would disapprove of his midday feast away from the controlled diet the team’s nutritionist oversaw dished out to the team during the season. But damn it looked good, and with our “first favorite” team playing out the season without hope of getting into the playoffs, maybe it didn’t matter so much. He could certainly work off whatever he put on as a result of what he was shoveling in before his next underwear ad photoshoot. Fortunately I had no such photoshoot upcoming, but also I didn’t have the intensity of physical exertion in my daily routine, so I’d, as always, have to moderate the carb intake . . . some!
Jim was there, already seated . . . and not alone. Was that my surprise – a third for lunch? I thought I recognized the other guy and was sure of it by the time I got to the table. Not someone I’d met more than once, though he’d become familiar, but what kind of surprise could he be as a lunch companion?
Jim stood and kissed me as I put out my hand and greeted the other man, another attorney from Jim’s firm. “Hello, Mister Jakes. Good seeing you again.” I wasn’t exactly lying – he was exceptionally pleasing to look at. Okay, I know – OINK!
Evan Jakes and Jim and I had a history . . . sort of. Jakes exuded masculine appeal on many levels. In fact, I’d commented to Jim the one time I’d met him, at a party given by Jim’s law firm, that I hoped that Jakes didn’t work anywhere close to my husband! From there it became an occasional joke between us when Jim was delayed or plans changed. Me: “If it’s Jakes, make sure to video it!” and Jim: “I’ll make sure to finish Evan quickly,” were the type of things we’d jokingly throw at one another.
Shorter than we are, Evan Jakes stands about average height at six feet. That’s where anything average about his appearance stops. Fitness magazine cover-shot build and action movie star handsome; dark haired and hairy. His Friday casual, short-sleeved, very well-tailored shirt showed all of it well because he, like Jim, hadn’t worn a suit jacket, only well-tailored suit slacks, which I couldn’t help but notice showed both my husband’s and our lunch companion’s asses VERY well. Evan’s fur showed better on his arms and at his neck than I’d caught sight of on the backs of his strong hands and his deep five o’clock shadow on his face and neck when I met him before at the evening gathering. Ropey muscles on those arms and his neck which I later found out spanned the length him . . . and I also found out they were vestiges of having been a competitive gymnast in school and college. That explained shoulders for days and a waist I could almost put my hands completely around.
“Good to see you, too, General Cate,” Jakes’ deep voice replied, his eyes holding mine, his smile gleaming. To Jim, “Thanks for inviting me to lunch.”
In my ear, as Jim’s lips brushed past, he asked, “Okay with you if he’s our anniversary afternoon . . . toy?” and when I murmured a stunned uh huh, he added, “Happy anniversary,” before releasing me from his arms.
OH. MY. GOD! THAT PIG!!! GOD, did I love my husband! My mouth agape, I turned to Jakes and then back to Jim and then our guest again. His big hand still comfortably gripped mine, warm, exceptionally strong but not crushing, like a Marine shakes hands.
“Steady, Marine,” my husband urged, his big hand reassuringly on my shoulder, thumb rubbing the back of my neck.
“What am I missing?” Jakes asked, clearly no less confused than I was.
“Let’s all sit down,” my husband suggested calmly. I let Jakes’ hand go at that point, finally; and we did all take seats. Jim rested his big, warm right hand on my thigh the way he often does, and I was reminded how familiar the feel of his touch is and how it always calms me. I relaxed more than I knew I needed to as Jim continued. “So, Evan, our anniversary, Billy’s and my wedding anniversary, was a week ago, and I think we deserve another anniversary present.” I snapped my head at him, immediately realizing Jakes had no idea about this.
“I’d be correct, wouldn’t I, Evan,” Jim was continuing evenly, confidently, “In having observed that my husband’s appreciation for your . . . appeals wasn’t entirely one-sided?” He gave my thigh a squeeze and his long fingers wrapped around and brushed along my cockshaft and against my nuts through my pants, sending a jolt of electricity from my core to my hair follicles.
I had no defense to his disclosure, having betrayed my assessment of Jakes when I made that joke to Jim those months before after that party. Still, though, the other attorney looked like I was feeling only a few moments before – deer in the headlights in the face of Jim’s accusation, despite its gentility and his broad smile.
“Uh, Jim, I, well I never would have—“
“I know, Evan,” Jim stopped him gently. “And it’s not like we do this kind of thing. But your never is now different. As of today I’m not the managing partner in the firm; I’m not a superior to you at work, which would of course make my plan an impossibility as well as an impracticality if I still were. And as of today my husband’s and my desire is for a bit of . . . unusual for us – fun, together.” Another squeeze to my thigh, this time his long fingers well on the inside, over my painfully hardening cock, “So we’re inviting you to join us for some afternoon recreation. I did hear you say at the office that you were considering taking the afternoon off, didn’t I?”
Evan broke into a wide grin then. “Any other terms or conditions I should be aware of to consider this offer?” His grin was infectious, but it was tentative, not yet committed. He turned from Jim to me. “General?”
His lustful look made my cock throb, and when he turned back to my husband, his Romanesque profile and those cords in his neck dancing made my cock throb again. His attention returned to me when I answered him. “No strings whatsoever. No disclosure.” I looked to Jim, and he just smiled. “And we’re both disease-free, so if we have anything afterward, we know where it came from.”
“I’m wondering, General, if your husband’s status with the firm entitled him to know the results of my annual physical, which if I’m not mistaken came in only this week,” Jakes speculated with a smirk. “In case I’m just paranoid, which I have no need to be about the results in any case, I’ll put it out there: I have a completely, and I mean intrusive, thorough and complete in EVERY way, clean bill of health as of ten days ago when I had the physical and blood tests for our annual checkup.”
“You’re a single guy, obviously attractive, Mr. Jakes,” I pressed. “I’m certain you aren’t living a monk’s life, and a week and a half is a long time for a sexy, healthy man with normal needs.”
“Billy,” Jim started, but Jakes spoke for himself.
“Since you think I’m sexy, General, you should probably call me Evan,” he offered, with a suggestive smile. “And believe me when I tell you that my . . . NEEDS . . . don’t get attended to anywhere near as often as I’d like. So, yeah, my physical and blood test results aren’t impugned by any intervening activity. Oh, and yes,” he added, turning to Jim, “And, to fully respond to your earlier statement, yes, you are correct, but you were incomplete. I think you and your husband are two of the hottest hunks I’ve seen and known in a very,” he turned to me, “VERY long time.” His eyes held mine and smoldered. Jim rubbed my throbbing hardon, excruciatingly trapped in the leg of my Friday casual jeans. “Those needs you mentioned are often, shall we say, stop-gapped many times with my left hand while thinking of the two of you.”
I choked a little on my breath at that last, and Jim chuckled. I finally managed to get out, “You should call me Bill . . . Evan.”
“Oh, but ‘general’ has SO many connotations, implications and inferences. I’d show you just how much your rank – as icing on the beefcake – is, uh, stimulating me, but we don’t want to cause a scene here, do we?” And then, after a beat. “Or do we? Just so you men know, I’m NOTHING like the suit and my professional demeanor would suggest. In fact, I have almost no limits whatsoever.” His grin was dirty, his admission more of a challenge than disclosure. Oh yeah, we were going to have some fun with him!
Upon the pregnant pause that followed, our waiter appeared to take our order. When we all hesitated, Jim pulled out a couple of VERY large bills and handed them to him. “I think we’ve decided to skip lunch,” he told him with a smirk. Neither Evan nor I objected. “That’s for your trouble and for the iced teas.” I couldn’t help but have a stray thought about two hundred dollars for two iced teas – I had only had water!
I was glad for having come from work without intention to return, as I had my messenger bag, so I had something to cover my bulging jeans. I looked pointedly at Jim’s tented crotch and then at Evan’s. Both were tenting their expensive suit slacks very appealingly! Evan caught my pointed look and looked down and immediately covered his crotch with his hands. “Way to be nonchalant!” I joked, and a reddish tone spread from his cheeks and neck, overtaking his face.
Jim, his hand in the center of my back, propelled us forward, not caring one bit about his obvious arousal, letting his hardon lead the way. “Just walk close behind, if you want, Evan,” Jim suggested, as we strode through the restaurant.
“Sounds promising,” Evan observed suggestively from behind us, causing both Jim and me to snicker at that.
We had to go single-file between the tables anyway until we got to the small reception area at the front door, so Jim was forced to take cover behind me anyway. And I had my bag. Then it was pushing through a small crowd of many customers waiting to be seated at the front, who’d come in early to fill the popular restaurant. I swear someone groped me as I passed . . . but I couldn’t swear it wasn’t Jim, reaching around.
Our little, two-bedroom condo was only a ten minute walk from Filomena’s. Apparently Evan had taken a cab from the law office to the restaurant. It was too close not to walk, but we didn’t want to have to walk back afterward to pick our car up to leave the city, so Jim trotted ahead of us to the valet Filomena’s shared with the restaurant two doors down, his tented crotch again proudly displayed, I was sure, based on two pointed looks he got on the way.
“This is like Christmas!” Evan exclaimed, bouncing on each step as we made our way after Jim. He had his hands balled in his slacks pockets to minimize the VPL. “I really have jacked off thinking of you two a lot,” he continued. “Jim is like the most incredibly hot man, and he’s amazing the way he handles cases and runs the firm. I don’t know what it’s going to be like without him around the office . . . other than sucky!” The last was definitely a downturn from the earlier enthusiasm.
“He told me that the firm will be just FINE without him,” I told Evan honestly, but with the slightest pique at his obvious infatuation with my husband. “He said that Franco Farinalli has been the one really running the firm for a while now.”
Evan guffawed at that. “Frank is good. Of course he’s good; he wouldn’t be at our firm if he wasn’t great. But he’s no Jim Ellis, that’s for sure. And he’s completely lacking in appeal.” The last was with a laugh.
We’d caught up to Jim, who chimed in, “Do you ALL of your law partners on that scale, Evan?” I could tell he was only half joking.
“NO!” Evan protested. “No, seriously. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about how I think about you, but, well, I had to be honest.”
I lightened the tone a bit as it was clear Evan was really more like a schoolboy with a crush than a man trying to get in on my territory. “Is that ‘you’ you were thinking about singular or plural, Evan? I’m just wondering if I need to piss on my territory here,” I joked, throwing a glance at Jim, but Evan’s eyes rolled a little, and I swear he shivered when I said that.
“Singular and plural,” he admitted, almost gravely. “And that singular was double. Sometimes it was one or the other of you hot, sweaty, panting with me, sometimes it was both.” Alrighty then – so much for full disclosure . . . and the enthusiasm wasn’t lost on my nuts.
As usual, my husband’s hand found mine as we stood there, which got us some looks – some admiring, some winks and some stinkeyes – and seemed to distract Evan as we awaited the car. I felt Jim’s body tense through a little shiver of his own. I squeezed his hand and said so quietly I risked not even him hearing me, “Best. Anniversary. Ever.”
We’d brought Jim’s sporty convertible to work that day, and the back seat really wasn’t made for grown men. Hell, it wasn’t even made for adolescent girls, if the people in the front were tall like us and needed to put the seats back just to get our knees in. With the top down, though, Evan bounded into the back like a big, eager pup, and he pulled his knees up and sat on the seat sideways. “NICE ride, guys.” He ran his hand over the contrasting stitching in the custom seats and the wood grain that Jim had upgraded or special ordered or some damn thing.
As we zipped the several blocks to Dupont Circle, we were all quiet. When we went in the underground parking garage, Evan ventured, “Don’t suppose your parking area is private enough that we could do it in this car? I mean, this is a fucking wet dream!”
I didn’t know what Evan’s story was, other than he was a partner in the firm. But as a partner, he certainly could have afforded the special edition Beemer we were in. It didn’t seem to fit – his reaction to the car. STOP, CATE! NOT EVERYTHING IS INTEL, I reminded myself and decided to stop analyzing him. If he worked for the firm, he wasn’t a psycho who didn’t add up. And if Jim selected him for a playmate, he was certainly not a risk.
Jim laughed it off. “Uh, no – not private at all. And given we have to face the board here, that’s not happening. Maybe if we went over to the Ritz garage, we could give them a show!”
“It’s okay,” Evan replied brightly, but he was again stroking the leather, and for a moment I imagined him stroking my big, fat horsecock with similar reverence, causing more of my pre-cream to add to what was already in my jeans, my hardon long since escaped from my jock strap.
When we were out of the car, we headed to the stairs, as we always did. “We’ll get our blood flowing hoofing it to the top floor,” I told Evan.
Inside the stairwell, suddenly Evan grabbed my hand and thrust his crotch into it. “It’s flowing!” he assured me.
And it was, obviously. Jim had turned around when he heard me stop abruptly and enjoyed the site, as I didn’t take my hand away. Instead I took a good grip of Evan’s hardon and balls and gave them a good enough squeeze that he grunted out an, “OH FUCK!” Jim laughed, and when I looked at him, he threw an obvious glance at the security camera behind me.
In response to Jim’s silent remonstration, I unzipped Evan’s pants and in a flash had fished out his hardon through his fly and gripped it, his body shielding the camera’s full view enough for me to have some deniability. Having his decently-sized, veiny, thick cock out and gripped got me another, louder, “OH FUCK!” from Evan this time. “C’mon,” I told him, pulling him by his cock. “I’ll show you the way.” Jim guffawed that time and shook his head slightly before turning and continuing up the stairs.
I didn’t pull Evan all the way up by his cock. Not to disparage his impressive endowment, but it wasn’t long enough to comfortably pull him up the flights of stairs all the way from a step or two above him without twisting my back. Hell, I’m not sure even either of our horsecocks were long enough to facilitate that move without a visit to the chiropractor afterward. Maybe we should try . . . or maybe not – at least this way I didn’t have to worry about the camera angles as much. “What? Oh, you say our guest had his cock out in the stairwell? Well, SORRY – he won’t be returning anyway. And regardless, is there a fine for that in the bylaws somewhere that I missed? Let me just have my husband THE JUDGE check that,” I thought to myself and chucked.
So I ordered Evan NOT to put his cock back in his pants when I turned around and saw he was trying to, after I’d surrendered my grip on the first landing. His eyes jerked to mine, and his dirty grin went even wider. “Yes, sir!” he replied, saluting with surprising posture, having snapped to sharply enough that a bead and long string of his precum waived about from his widely-flared, cut cockhead.
By the time we got to our floor, all three of us had our blood was pumping – it’s a fair workout. When we were about to leave the stairway, I stopped short when Jim had stepped out, and Evan bumped into my back . . . cock first into my thigh. “Recon,” I told him over my shoulder, and just then Jim gave me the clear sign and turned toward our door down at the end of the hall. Okay, that move would ruin my deniability – “But here, Mr. Cate, we see Judge Ellis quite deliberately checking the hall on the top floor before you and your, uh, guest left the stairwell. If you weren’t aware of your guests’ . . . uh . . . display, then why check before you and your husband let him exit?” “Oh, well, sorry, that’s my husband minding my residual safety and security issues since I’ve returned to civilian life. I don’t usually use the term PTSD, but unfortunately I don’t feel safe until the surrounding area has been reconnoitered for threats.”
I was already chuckling to myself at my inane thoughts about THAT board sanction session, not with much confidence of prevailing, sad to say. But I got the giggles watching Evan emerge proudly cock-first from the stairwell after I gave him the go sign, and he strutted an eighties cool-cat saunter down the hall. The exaggerated alternating swing of his hips and shoulders as he jived and long-strode the distance made his cock swing back and forth like a metronome. I grabbed him by the shirt when he was near the door and pulled him in. “Get in here, you nasty boy!” and decided to rethink my defense with the board later, since what I’d come up with before was totally blown.
“Yes, daddy,” Evan mocked, unbuckling his belt and opening the waist button of his pants and pushing them and his tight, short-legged boxer-briefs down over his thickly muscled thighs. He put his hands on his hips and continued, “I’ve been a BAD boy. And I intend to be a VERY bad boy . . . and I’m VERY good at it!” he declared, pulling his attractive button-up shirt over his head and tossing it in our foyer without so much as unbuttoning it.
My first glimpse of him head-to-toe naked – well, not since his toes or even his ankles yet, more like just above his ankles where his pants and briefs were puddled – was breathtaking. Furry, trimmed, but not obnoxiously trimmed, just clipped and neatened. And muscles, oh my GOD was he chiseled, lean-muscled, and about zero bodyfat it looked like.
“You like our present?” Jim asked me from a few steps away, smirking.
I suddenly felt apprehensive. When Jim had told Evan we didn’t DO this, he meant it. The closest we’d ever gone THERE – shit, HERE! – as in a three-way was a four-way by our pool with two friends of ours where they got carried away, we got carried away watching them going at it, and we both, both couples separately, fucked ourselves silly. Oh, and similarly, recently on a cruise when we hosted a gang-bang, but we, again, did our own thing while watching the other three guys use the crew member who was our bitch for the day, not us actually getting it on with anyone else. But this was VERY different, and a moment of thinking this might change Jim and me shook me.
Jim had this uncanny ability to read my thoughts. I felt his hands on my shoulders from behind, warm and slowly, not-so-gently massaging my traps. “Billy,” he cooed into my ear in his soothingly deep, masculine voice, just above a whisper, “Relax and enjoy. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Or we CAN do anything WE – or particularly you – do want to.” Then with a higher volume he said over my shoulder toward Evan, “After all, he said he has no limits.” I didn’t correct him that Evan had said he had almost no limits.
Evan took a step toward us, shuffling so as not to fall over with his ankles tangled in his pants. He looked at me directly in the eyes for what seemed like a long moment judging from my racing heart’s beats, and then he put his hands up and unbuttoned the highest button of my shirt . . . then the next . . . and then a third at mid-pecs and put his hands inside, flat on my chest spreading his hands, rubbing slowly, and he moaned. His fingers across my nipples and over my pecs and into my pits were electrifying . . . maybe because Jim was kissing my neck and nuzzling it from behind, having stepped harder against me.
I was left wanting for a moment when Evan took a break from rubbing my furry torso and moaning to pull my shirt up over my head, like he’d done with his, until he put his hands flat against my abs and rubbed up from there, my shirt going with his arms. I never did that to take off a shirt with buttons, like he had. Inanely, one track in my head went to a scene in Working Girl when Harrison Ford did that, giving me a spank-bank deposit I’d earned plenty of interest on in years afterward. When Evan’s hands were all over my torso, abs, back and pits after my shirt was cast aside that thought was cast out, When he put his fingers to his face and inhaled deeply of my scent, I saw his cock twitch and drip precum on the slate, his moan muffling the splat sound I imagined it making. And then he was rubbing his face on me and shoving his nose into my pits and licking and moaning and growling as he inhaled more of my scent . . .
It was mind-blowing. Jim was kissing me hungrily, having pulled my head around and awkwardly craning over my neck, his hands or Evan’s hands unbuttoning and pushing down my jeans, while Evan’s tongue and teeth worked my nipples into a frenzy whenever he diverted from my pits for a moment. I could tell it was Evan’s unfamiliar hand on my throbbing hardon through my boxer-briefs by the way he gasped into my sweaty, saliva-slick left armpit when he got a grip of me and yanked his head back from me for a moment, the gasp was so intense. Before I broke the kiss with Jim, I knew Evan was gaping, looking down at my horsecock – I could feel his breath on my abs.
Evan’s “HOLY SHIT!” confirmed his appreciation of my proportions. I turned my head down and saw him doing just what I’d thought – gaping as he rubbed and squeezed it slowly. “JESUS H! I’ve been with plenty of black and Latin studs who’d be intimidated by that!” he exclaimed. I briefly imagined him with a studly blatino friend of ours pounding him senseless, and my cock throbbed hard in his hand. I saw and felt his awed reaction.
Jim kissed my neck and spoke down to Evan. “I can tell you EXACTLY what it feels like the first time you get fucked with that monster. It’s like hell, heaven, ecstasy, suicide and, importantly, VICTORY when you’ve taken it and survived it – all that, all in one. You’re going to LOVE it . . . but remember, he’s MINE – so this is your one chance to enjoy it.”
“I’m right here, guys,” I joked.
In my ear Jim whispered in a low growl, “I want you to USE him . . . ENJOY him . . . no mercy!” My cock gave a violent twitch and throb, and Evan’s eyes went wider.
Evan’s eyes were still bugging out. His hands were rubbing along my length again through the fine cotton of the ridiculously expensive boxer briefs my husband bought us, his touch almost reverent but also clearly wanting. “I’ve never . . . “ he started, and I’m sure he wasn’t aware that he was repeating his earlier line.
Jim put his arms around me and his hands out, together, making a big circle with his fingers. “You have to be THIS open to ride this ride!” he joked. “Ready to climb on?” he taunted Evan.
“Holy motherfucking Jesus! I’ll feel that in my stomach!” I notice he’d said ‘will’ not ‘would’ – he was definitely IN . . . or I was in, depending on how you looked at it.
Well, that settled it! Because at that point my cock and nuts were completely in control, and its intentions were completely clear. “Wait until you see what Jim’s packing,” I threw in, moving my hands from where they’d been rubbing Jim’s hips and ass behind me around to where I had a grip on him, confirming what I knew from what had been pressing against my ass – that he was ragingly boned himself. That sent a jolt thought me, emanating from my nuts, and I thrust my crotch harder into Evan’s grip.
Evan’s head snapped up to face me. “Am I going to walk out of here, guys, or go in an ambulance?” he joked, but his laugh quavered enough for me to know he wasn’t entirely confident. What I was sure of was the look in his eyes – a hungry, wanton bottom bitch who was going to RIDE that RIDE!
Before I could reassure him, Jim spoke up. “Why don’t we go make ourselves comfortable?” Jim suggested.
I took one of Evan’s hands and put it on my shoulder. “Here, hold onto me so you can get your pants all the way off without taking a fall here in our foyer and going out of commission before we even get started.”
Evan hadn’t released my cock with his other hand, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to . . . or couldn’t break his hold. “It’s okay, Evan,” I prompted him with a laugh. “It’ll still be there when we get to the bed.”
Jim sniggered behind me, and Evan sighed, steadied himself with his hand more firmly gripping my shoulder, toed off his expensive-looking leather lace-ups with the flashy crimson soles and then bent to pull his pants and underwear off over his feet. While he was down there, his face brushed my jutting fuckpole twice, jolting me, sending more wetness through my length. He turned, yanked my underwear down so that my cock sprang free and then opened wide and got my head inside his mouth. “MMMmmmmmrrrrrmmmm,” he growl-moaned around my cockhead, and his tongue swirled around and inside my ample but stretched ‘skin, which was sending skyrockets of sensations through me.
Evan fell to his knees without releasing my cock from his oral grip, and then he took hold of my shaft with one hand and began tickling my balls with his other hand. Jim began twisting my nipples and biting the base of my neck and growling softly, as he could watch our anniversary present working my cockknob.
I couldn’t do anything other than to grab Evan’s head with both my hands and GO with it. Evan’s appreciative “MMMMMRRGGGGGGGGGMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPHHHHHH,” as I pulled his face farther onto my length didn’t wane, even when he started to gag. My cocksucker’s hands found my ass and gripped tightly, giving his full submission. I wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted more or to steady himself against what he knew was inevitable. I chose to take it as encouragement either way and began to bang my fuckpole against the back of his throat, enjoying his gagging and choking, but not giving him any relief . . . if he wanted any.
“We’re going to get LOADS of use out of him this afternoon,” Jim growled behind me, loud enough for Evan to hear and to elicit a louder moan from him.
Jim was tweaking my nipples just the way he knows will get me zero to sixty in nothing flat, and he knew I was already speeding down that path; and he was humping his massive hardon against my asscrack slowly but very forcefully, stoking me all the more for knowledge of his own desire, always my most combustive igniter. I pulled Evan harder, pushing him to take more of me, ignoring the pleas in his moans and gasps and chokes and gags, holding my engorged head jammed against the opening to his throat longer at the end of each thrust before withdrawing, thrusting harder each time and faster between thrusts until finally, with a hard push, I felt my cock scrape through his impossibly tight throat opening.
I took one hand and stroked Evan’s hard-muscled neck to calm him, having seen his crazed look and heard his desperate pleas muffled around my impalement of him. I held him there with my left hand firmly gripping the back of his head as he started to thrash wildly trying to pull off me, and then I held him a bit longer, his struggle stronger, my grip on him firm. “Yeah, that’s it . . . you’re doing fiiiiiiine,” I told him.
Evan’s struggling got even more forceful, and he was a strong little fucker. One hand was pushing at my groin, the other gripping my right buttcheek in a futile attempt to pull me backward as he attempted to pull back from me. I finally let loose my grip on his head, but I didn’t pull back; I made him get his throat free of me himself, and he back and choking, drooling spit all down his sculpted abs, running over his fur as his pecs heaved with his gagging and gasping. He braced himself with both hands on the tiles hanging his head down almost like he was about to position himself to begin a sprint at a starting line.
“Had enough?” I taunted him.
His head whipped up, his nostrils flared, his face beet red and wet with sweat on his forehead and drool on his lips, chin and neck. His eyes were burning. With a growl, he reached up and grabbed my nuts roughly, holding my gaze in a challenge, and he yanked my cock to his lips. “FEED ME FUCKER!” he ordered. “Bury my face in those ripe pubes of yours!” Then he impaled himself on my cock so roughly and painfully that I thought he might have ripped some skin off the wide flange or some of my foreskin as he forced me into his throat again.
“Fuck yeah!” Jim growled. I agreed and went with it.
Knowing he couldn’t possibly know what yanking my nuts did to me – like an engineer stoking a steam engine – I let Evan have his way with my cock and forced myself to tamp down the desire to skull fuck him brutally. He forced himself onto me over and over again until he had more than half my cock in his mouth and throat and was using me to skull-fuck himself aggressively, growling, snarling, spitting, choking, gagging. He was still using my nutbag as a grip to pull me into him over and over, which had my balls boiling from the combination of his aggressive need, determined efforts and manhandling.
Evan had gotten comfortable enough that he was working my shaft with his tongue while he was throating my head and a fair length of my shaft, and he started to stroke the few inches he couldn’t get in with his free hand. I had both my hands on his head, but I didn’t need to steady myself as he worked me over because Jim had me firmly from behind.
The explosion of sensation that was my nuts bursting was sudden and overwhelming, and all I could do was gasp as my entire body stiffened and my nut started pumping in blasts into him. I was startled – this wasn’t my usual slow, hard-to-nutt way. “Yeah, babe, let it all go,” my husband encouraged, his lips behind my ears, his voice raspy like when he’s near the edge, still flicking and twisting my nips and driving me out of my skin as my loud cry burst forth with my nutload.
“OOOMMPGGHHHHH,” Evan groaned and gurgled as he struggled to keep from drowning by swallowing spasmodically. That’s really the last thought or awareness I had as my body thrashed, thrusted against my firm grip on his head to keep my cock buried in his throat.
I started to come down after my plumbing was finished pumping out my seed. My consciousness was re-sparked the moment Evan’s mouth released my cock, my wide flange scraping free of his throat opening and over his molars. I looked down to see him fall back with his butt onto his heels, again hanging his head and shaking it a little, gasping desperately, wiping his mouth and then his forehead with the back of his hand. His cock waved, hard and throbbing in front of him, long tendrils of precum and a puddle under where he’d been knealing.
As I swam in the aftermath of my body’s ecstasy, I saw Evan look back up at my cock and up and down my body again, returning to my cock, his gaze reverent and appreciative of the drool of dregs of my cum hanging in a long teardrop. There was also satisfaction on his face like that of an athlete having pushed himself the final edge over the finish to win.
We all maintained that tableau for what seemed like time stretching out. Jim had his face buried in my neck panting as if he was the one who’d cum . . . but his violent climaxes wouldn’t have been missed, so I knew he hadn’t.
Our cocksucker finally reached up and gently gripped my thick, veiny shaft and bent forward and licked slowly from my frenulum up over my head, catching that last bit of my cum and giving my cock a loud kiss. “Still hard as steel. Fuuuuuuuuk!” he exclaimed. Then he buried his face in my crotch and inhaled deeply, loudly, moaning. “GODDAMN you reek GOOOOOOOOOOOD!”
“Now, about heading to the bedroom to get more comfortable,” Jim piped up from behind me, snapping me a little more to attention again.
Evan’s eyes widened as he glanced up to Jim over my shoulder and then back to my dripping cock. “FUCK YES!” he grinned.
I put out my hand, and Evan slapped his hand into mine; and I pulled him up to standing. His body in motion was a true thing of beauty – all muscles rippling and rolling, and his movements graceful despite the sinew and the drips and splatters of spit and cum on his pec fur and down his chin and neck. When Evan was standing, he looked up to me longingly. There was a moment, and then he raised on his toes and moved his lips toward mine.
I reflexively leaned back, though Jim was still right behind me, his hands flat on my abs. Evan stopped as I reacted, and he backed off. “Oh, sorry,” he apologized.
Jim whispered behind me, “Relax. Let yourself go. Enjoy him any way you want to.” And then he reached out and got his big hand behind Evan’s head and pulled him back toward me. “Taste yourself on him,” Jim encouraged me.
Evan’s eyes were searching mine and then looked at my lips. I leaned down just enough and then took his mouth with mine. Evan’s mouth tasted of me and his face smelled of me and my essence, reminding me that I’d just fully bitched him to my cock. I reached around him and brought our bodies together HARD and possessed his mouth through his long moan, shoving my tongue inside and sucking his face as he melted into me. I felt Evan’s arms go around me, one hand on my back and the other probably on Jim behind me, and he went at it with me, tongues dueling and teeth crashing, lips crushed together.
One part of my awareness, not the part that was grinding with Evan against each other, and not the part that was sucking his face, was aware that Jim had his hand between us and was stroking Evan’s hardon all of a sudden. I felt Evan’s response as his lips quivered, his breath caught and his body shivered against mine.
Our grinding was energized by my husband’s stroking of Evan between us, him pumping into Jim’s grip. The heat radiating from and through Evan was intense, and I felt him tense up within moments. His lips froze against mine, his tongue went slack, and he quivered as he breathed a long, stuttering sigh. And then I felt his body convulse and his cum splash between us as Jim, behind me praised him. “Gooooooooood boy!”
I felt Evan’s hot load splashing my nuts and thighs, and I smelled it, oh man, did I ever smell him. His cum was pungent and manly, a good complement to all our mansweat, which was already wafting, and to the provocative scent of my own cum.
Jim and I held Evan close as he rode the wave, crested and floated after he stopped humping into Jim’s fist and against me, his body going slack against me in my grasp around him. My husband moved around and gently took Evan’s head and then kissed him, eliciting a low, long sigh. I felt Evan deflate even more against me, and I felt his cum running down my abs and groin.
As if Jim read my mind – as he so often does – he wiped his fingers along my thigh and brought them to my mouth. I smelled it even stronger and then tasted it. Evan’s seed was tangy and sharp, more like my husband’s than mine. I was overwhelmed with the NEED to FUCK another load out of this bitch.
I moved deliberately and disturbed the kiss, and we all stopped. They both took a breath. My turn to suggest, “To the bedroom – NOW!” But when I moved slightly, I realized that Evan’s arm, which had been against my thigh until I moved, wasn’t moving with me, and neither were the two of them. I looked down, and I saw that Evan’s hand was firmly gripping Jim’s long cock, out of the fly of his slacks, rubbing it up and down his length.
My brain short-circuited for a moment, reconciling new want and intent. Seeing Evan stroke my husband won out, and I wanted him to face fuck Evan the way I had. “Told ya,” I smirked at Evan, as he was clearly savoring Jim’s long length. I watched as he took Jim’s heavy nutbag in his other hand, testing the grip for Jim’s reaction, and getting a growl, gripping harder as he’d done with mine. Evan was truly accomplished as any good bitch is at reading his bull’s tolerance, preference and need.
Evan’s look was something akin to his own confirmation as he ogled Jim’s horsecock and hairy bull balls, as if marveling that they were, in fact, in his grasp. He released Jim’s nuts into a looser grip and then hefted them up and down a couple of times. “I don’t think this round is over quite yet,” Evan said almost off-handedly, almost as if he was talking to himself, as if only he and Jim’s junk were there. “I’ve got an idea.”
Jim put his hand on Evan’s shoulder, pressing his own idea, locking his eyes burning into mine, and our anniversary present slowly sank to his knees . . . again. This time, with perfect skill and expertise, he had Jim’s head and half his shaft in his mouth before his knees hit the tile. I was pretty certain I’d just taught him how to take that much that easily.
I enjoyed the angle I had to watch my husband’s gorgeous fuckmeat, the way I’d enjoyed the sight, sound, smell, touch of his manliness for four and a half years. Now he was being appreciated and about to be satisfied by this hot, muscular gymnast. I wasn’t a bit jealous – I was, surprising myself, enjoying the show.
“Thanks for getting him ready for me. I’ll return the favor in a bit!” Jim chuckled to me and promptly trailed off into a moan as Evan pulled him in deeper.
The sound of Jim moaning, using the arm that wasn’t around me to guide Evan’s head even farther down his amazing ten-inch fuckpole. The sight of Evan’s perfectly defined neck, shoulder and back muscles rolling as he rocked forward and back, ever farther toward Jim’s bush, had my cock steel-hard, throbbing and dripping again.
Jim’s groans were different than when I blow him. Something inside me decided that was a good thing before I over-analyzed it. Also, his eyes were not glazed over or rolling back in his head but blazing into mine, locked. I moved forward and captured Jim’s mouth with mine, slapping his asscheek and holding a firm grip on MY first-choice pleasure destination through the silk of Jim’s slacks.
Evan had started gulping and gasping and choking a little while Jim and I kissed – and groped, me by then with two hands, him with one clamped on the back of my neck, the other on Evan’s head. When we finally took a long breath, I saw that my husband had been gripping his cocksucker’s head tightly, and his pubes were dripping with saliva running all down his slacks.
To the bitch’s credit, he was swallowing Jim’s mighty sword, like he was trying out for the circus.
I was ready to get down to some more serious boning business, but Jim and Evan needed to get this job done first, and it was only making the fuck to come more intense – that much I could feel in the way my nuts churned. I knew how to get Jim’s nuts exploding.
I went back at Jim’s mouth again, which he returned hungrily. At the same time I got a couple of his shirt buttons open, and I slipped the hand that wasn’t rubbing his fuckhole with my fingers through the seat of his slacks in and around him. His shirt was warm – because he was hot, just not boiling yet – and my fingertips felt his hot, furry, hard-muscled flesh. As my fingers reached their target and brushed over his right nipple I felt his body respond in the way he shivered.
Jim was full-blown skull-fucking Evan, as I worked his nipples rough then easier, brushing the hardened nubs and then back again to squeezing and tweaking them and then pinching them hard with my fingernails. Jim liked that – rough nip-play ignited his fuse, I knew, more than for me. For me the less-intense nip play was what stoked my inferno. His grunts and growls and moans told me I was getting him there, quickly. I increased the pressure on his cumhole, feeling like I was about to press the fabric of his boxer briefs and slacks fully up into his needy fuckchute. With a gasp, Jim’s body went tense, and I felt his hips jerk forward, causing Evan to gag and choke.
My husband’s lips against mine were frozen in a silent scream, only the sound of his one brief, shallow intake of breath as he was about to tumble over the edge. A particularly brutal nipple tweak then had him shouting. Jim began to spasm, and I rode his climax with him, sucking his neck HARD and pushing my fingers into his ass even harder. As he ground his wanton fuckhole into my stiff digits, Evan was gulping and choking in time to the wracking spasms that my husband suffered.
When Evan finally pulled himself off Jim’s cock, he was sputtering and gasping for breath again, and he’d fallen fully backward flat onto the tile that time. His perfectly sculpted, heaving torso had a sheen of sweat where his drool and some of Jim’s spilt cum hadn’t made puddles in the valleys between muscles. His eight-pack and slab pecs undulated and his sheened, corded neck was tensed as he struggled to normalize his respiration.
We looked down at him after a long, last kiss together. Just when I was about to ask Evan if he was alright, he started to laugh. It was a chuckle that erupted into a long, hearty laugh that came out in bass booms, echoing through the condo.
Jim and I looked at each other. I was wondering if having first my then Jim’s horsecock shoved down his gullet had caused some brain damage when Evan slapped both of his hands on the tile and then contorted his body back, with his pelvis thrust up, and then he threw his upper body up and was standing facing us with a look of glee. “FUCK YEAH!” he shouted, fist-pumping. “Twenty years of sucking cock, and I’ve taken on both the biggest cocks I’ve ever had. All in one afternoon!!!” he gushed, looking from Jim’s face to mine, beaming.
“Good job, Evan!” Jim broke our silence.
I chimed in with, “Well now that you’ve SUCKED the biggest cocks of your life so far—“
Evan boisterously cut me off, slamming one of his strong hands down onto each of our shoulders. “I’m betting you two studs have enough left to give my ass some of that.”
I reached out and clamped my hand around the back of Evan’s muscled neck and pulled him closer. He stunk of mansex . . . and it was intoxicating, just the way a bitch should be for his bulls. I knocked my forehead into his. “You fucking know it! NOW can we go in the fucking bedroom, so we can really let loose?”
Without dissention, we walked our anniversary present around to the hallway and down to our bedroom, leaving his clothes where they were strewn in the entry, letting our cocks and balls wave, Jim’s and mine out our open pants, his probably ruined, as we made our way in. Mine would wash clean – oh, right – they’d go to the cleaners, as my husband preferred! LOL
Evan stopped when we got inside our bedroom, and I thought he was looking around at the décor until he said, hesitantly, “Uh, I need to take a moment to ensure I’m, um, er, ready, if you know what I mean.”
I laughed at his awkwardness, juxtaposed against the intensity of what we’d just done, the declaration of what we’d just affirmed we were going to do. “The bathroom’s in here,” Jim replied without missing a beat. “I’ve got to piss, anyway, and I’m sure Billy does, too.” I did, it was true – bad. “We can piss while you use the dyna-douche in the shower if you don’t have to piss, Evan.”
“What? Seriously? You have one of those?” Evan gushed, running into the bathroom like an excited kid. We followed.
He whistled, looking around, which gave me a moment of pride. I really had done some awesome stuff with the master bathroom. When I bought the condo, it had been trashed and foreclosed. It was sold as-is, which is what made me able to afford the building at all, so I had a lot of repair to do that wasn’t optional. But I also had been offered a home-equity line of credit against my down payment by my loan officer, and I decided to use it to fund better-than-bare-bones repairs and do some real renovation. The bathroom was my first inspiration. Since the master and second bedroom both had two exceptionally large walk-in closets, and one of the second bedroom closets was adjacent to the master bath, I knocked out the wall and made the bathroom much bigger. The result, after some complex plumbing maneuvers, courtesy of a hot fuckbud plumber, was a space sufficient to make an open shower any gay man would stand in awe of – or eight or ten gay men stand IN in awe under twelve, yes, count them, twelve shower heads. That, along with adding a stand-up urinal, a bidet, a Jacuzzi tub that could accommodate more than two men our size, a linen closet, seating area, slate and granite, and Evan’s whistle was justified.
“The dyna-douche was my addition,” Jim declared, with a proud wink, making it clear whom the bottom was in our relationship.
I didn’t have more time for accolades or small talk and went to the commode room and started to piss into the urinal. I heard Evan say behind me, “Let me get to it,” and then after a bit of conversation the water beginning to flow, Jim having efficiently explained the controls to him. Then Jim was beside me, my flow still streaming, nudging me aside and beginning his own piss stream, splashing into mine. I felt young in that moment, like a teenager again, sharing a bathroom with my two older brothers.
Jim threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him, both our pissstreams swaying dangerously near the edge of the urinal as he did. “How do you like our anniversary present, husband?” he asked, kissing my neck.
“You couldn’t tell?” I taunted him, squeezing along the length of my semi-stiff cock until I pinched the last drop of piss out my ample foreskin and giving my cock a good shake. Jim took my cock in his free hand and swiped over the head, getting the last drops of my piss and taking them to his lips. “Mmmmmm,” he moaned, eyes burning into mine, sending jolts of excitement through me.
I reached over and took hold of Jim’s tumescent cock. I felt him shiver as I did, and his teeth found my neck. Then I did the same for his as I’d done for mine, enjoying the sound and feel of his breath catching as I rubbed and shook his cock before I brought my fingers to my lips and savored his taste.
“Sometimes I—“ he started huskily.
“I always,” I responded and turned for a full-on kiss.
We were both hard again in no time, and our kissing had gone nasty and needy, our grinding and growling uncontrollable. We were startled by Evan’s voice behind us. “You guys are awesome,” he exclaimed. “And unless you’ve decided to continue your anniversary celebration on your own . . . “
Evan didn’t have to continue that line of thought, because Jim and I were on him, pawing his slightly-damp body and propelling him to our bed and throwing off our clothes as we did. I missed the sexed-up smell he’d had before – familiar now, with mostly us, sex I knew the smell of, but with a little something that was all him – which had been replaced with the clean smell of freshly showered male.
We literally threw him down butt-first, and his legs flailed in the air as he got his balance. When he did, he got himself propped up, back on his elbows, got his feet planted and knees in the air then pulled his legs back until his knees were just behind his head. His abs and glutes flexing as he pulled himself effortlessly into the folded-up position was mesmerizing.
His beautifully smooth hole – he must shave it –was facing us. It looked so small and tight. He was grinning at us, and he threw his glance to our humongous hardons. A little twitch of his butthole matched a moment’s fear in his eyes, but then that grin was broader, dirtier. I couldn’t help but think what that hole would look like used, devastated – all sore, stretched, swollen, gaping and with our seed running out of it.
Apparently Jim thought the same thing, as he handed me the Boy Butter. Then he climbed on the bed and drove his face into that offered crack. My husband licked up, starting from behind our bitch’s pucker, causing him to throw his head back and moan out a long, “Yyyyyeeeeeeaa—aaaaahhhhhhhh.” When Jim’s fat tongue passed Evan’s pucker, the moan had caught for a beat, and he shook his head side to side once as if trying to regain his composure. Our plan was that wasn’t to happen. And Jim was fulfilling his part in that plan, stabbing his tongue into Evan’s hungry hole, the “Yeah” of earlier now replaced with, “OhFUCKthat’ssofuuuuuuckingGOOOOOD,” and similar exclamations as Evan writhed and ground himself against Jim’s face and slapped his hands against the bedcover with abandon.
Jim worked Evan’s receptacle over until Evan was damp again with a sheen of sweat, clearly wanting, and his dark-furred abs had collected a puddle of his precum from his leaking, bobbing cock. My husband pulled back suddenly, which caused Evan to whimper and slap the bed again.
“My turn,” Jim announced to me, as he scrabbled around and got himself between Evan’s feet and then his legs, which were still back over his head extended. He plopped down on Evan’s face with his hairy butt as I moved to the waiting hole and got a glob of Boy Butter onto my fingers and touched them against that smooth-shaven pink fuckpucker.
“OH YEAH!” Evan’s cry came from under Jim’s ass as he lowered it, and then Jim was riding Evan’s face, holding his legs wide and up higher, giving me even easier access to that needy hole.
I had one finger fully inside Evan pumping it in and out gently. He’d taken it with relative ease – though very tight at first, I stopped at the second knuckle and moved it very gently inside him. Then the clench turned to a sort of sucking undulation as I pushed my long middle finger into him all the rest of the way and began sliding it fully in and out, teasing his cuntring with my fingertip before plunging it back in again, careful to not yet jab his pleasure point.
The slurping and muffled gasps for breath from Evan as he devoured Jim’s hole was a great soundtrack, as were the slight catches and moans I saw in his musculature more than heard when my finger would almost completely exit him, until just my fingertip was again rubbing around on the inside of his cuntring, then again he’d react when I was plunging in deeper. And the groan when I worked my second finger into him – all TIGHT all over again, and his body as stiff as his cunt clenched my fingers reflexively trying to expel them or at least stop their onslaught – was sheer delight to hear.
“You’ve got a long way to go to take Jim’s horsecock, so just relax, breathe – well as much as you can with a six-foot-six muscled dude riding your tongue,” I coached him. “And work with me here,” I added with a slight added pressure to the side of his fuckchute, “So we don’t finish out today with you in the emergency room.” Then . . . I used both my fingertips to tap his p-spot.
“HOYYYEEEE FFUUUTTTHHH!” his muffled exclamation sounded like under Jim’s grinding butt, and his body bucked so violently that he almost knocked Jim off balance. Evan smacked up hard on Jim’s buttcheeks in further demonstration as I rubbed his button again, and he growled into Jim’s gyrating asscrack and thrust his ass against my fingers needily.
Evan’s smoothly-shaved nuts bobbed spasmodically every time I worked his pleasure button, and his cock jerked and loosed more precum, which was running in the deep valleys between his abs and ran in his prominent cum gutters and down around his waist to the bed. I swiped my hand over his creamy groin and scooped up some of it and worked it into him when I forced three fingers into him.
The moan and exclamation was louder, longer and more plaintiff when I STRETCHED that hole wider, and Jim usefully sat down harder on Evan’s face to stifle the near-screams when I juxtaposed the discomfort of the stretch with fast, playful nicks at his prostate with all three of my fingers inside him scissoring and twisting and spreading. I took the opportunity to go for four when he was again fucking onto my fingers, and this time, he opened easier, his hole gaping wide and ready.
“You’re up!” I told Jim, and he didn’t waste any time dismounting and scrambling around as I moved away.
“FUCK ME!” Evan panted as Jim positioned himself and pressed his huge, throbbing helmet against the still-gaping fuckring.
It wasn’t gaping enough. When Jim pressed in, Evan slammed his hands down hard and thrashed his head around on the bed. Clutching the bedcover tightly, biceps bulging as he pulled against it he shouted, “KKEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTT that’s—“
I climbed on his face mid-shout and muffled the rest. Evan went to work on my sweaty shithole while he writhed and grappled, and Jim pushed slowly on into him. From my angle, watching Jim’s long, veiny cock disappear into our hot bitch’s hole was an amazing sight, his eyes hooded and closing with the pleasure of entering our anniversary bitch’s cunt. Oh, how I knew the sublime feeling – every time I entered my husband. Wait – hopefully not THAT good! LOL
Evan’s gasp, spasm and long cry into my ass from under me when Jim obviously hit and slid past his p-spot caused his legs to flail. I barely missed getting kicked in the head!
Jim was buried in Evan, and he’d stopped for a beat, but Evan was working his ass up against Jim’s groin, and he clearly wanted it. With his hands planted on Evan’s thighs, Jim began pumping that hole, and he went to frenzied pounding when barely a minute had passed.
Evan’s thrashing and convulsing as his button got pummeled meant his face doing more to my shithole and crack than his tongue, as he was constantly crying out muffled screams and shouts that I knew were the pleasure of having a horsecock working up inside him. I recognized them – my husband’s weren’t that far different when I was fucking him.
I backed up off Evan’s face and smacked it with my hardon a few times as I enjoyed the show and his now unmuffled cries of pleasure. Mouth free, Evan’s stream of exclamations and gasps was continuous, the only intelligible theme something along the lines of “feeling [Jim] up in his lungs” and “harder, don’t fucking stop until you fucking fill me with your fucking hot jizzload.”
Leaning over Evan, my balls against his face, which was whipping and thrashing back and forth, I met Jim’s lips, and we kissed long and hungrily as he pumped. Evan reached up and pulled my cock back toward his mouth hard, causing me to have to reposition my ass for him to get it in . . . painfully, as the angle was wrong for him to get my big cockknob in without his teeth interfering, even if he hadn’t been thrashing about in the throes of his skewering.
Jim released one of Evan’s thighs and clamped his hand on the back of my neck and sucked my tongue hard for a few moments, and I felt him closing in on his release. “SLAM it into him!” I ordered as best as I could around my captive tongue.
“FUCKING GIVE IT TO ME! OH GOD I CAN FEEL YOU HARDER. OH FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” Evan was crying out as Jim let out one long, loud cry, his entire body tensed and his cock planted deep inside him before he started shuddering as he began to pump. “OH GOD YES – that’s IT!” Evan shouted around my cock, further battering me with his teeth, and I felt his body go from tense, matched with Jim’s to thrashing with convulsions. He shouted around my cock, this time a long, unintelligible moan. I felt his seed spray HARD up from his own rock-hard cock onto my chest and abs and crotch, knowing it must have drenched his face.
I’ll give him credit. Although the angle was terrible, and my cock felt like I’d been fucking barbed wire, he never bit me, even when his body was only controlled from flying into the air with the intensity of his spasms by Jim and me holding him in place.
Gently I extricated my cock from his mouth, finally gone slack around me and got myself on my haunches next to Evan. His face indeed was splattered with an amazing amount of cum, as was his chest, as was my chest, abs, groin and pubes. It was a porn-worthy load, probably as much as both of our own usual over-achiever cumloads. He was completely limp as my hands still held his ankles, but he was panting hard.
When Jim went to disengage, Evan’s body spasmed, as he pulled free, then he whelped when Jim’s head plopped out. I looked at Jim’s slimy cock, wanting to suck it clean; but I had other work to do. I nudged the side of our spent bitch’s head and asked, “Ready for the bonus round?”
Evan’s face broke into a slack grin, his eyes still closed, and then he laughed. “It might be the knockout round, but FUCK YEAH, I fucking WANT IT!” he huffed between breaths. “Tell you one thing, he added, his eyes opening, looking up at me. “I’ve never had a cock that far up my pussy – EVER!”
I cringed at the word. I HATE when men use “the p-word.” A friend once called me on my use of “cunt,” accusing me of being a hypocrite for ascribing “pussy” to something less-than-masculine while using “cunt” freely and complimentarily. Somehow cunt to me implied MANcunt, which was, well, manly. That might be totally made up in my mind, maybe because I’d never had any other type of cunt but knew “pussy” was what straight men lusted after openly. {Hell that’s pretty well-publicized now courtesy of one of our presidential candidates!} Pussy was feminine, plain and simple; too delicate or something for my taste. Not that it would stop me from fucking that “pussy” of Evan’s! I laughed to myself, at my own natural male determination to not let anything get in the way of satisfying my primal need to FUCK.
“Go ahead, laugh. I’m sure you now know what it feels like to have your intestines stuffed with cock. And now you’ll know what it feels like to be fucked with a baseball bat!” At that, Jim guffawed, and neither of us pointed out what is the truth of our relationship – I don’t like to bottom ninety-nine percent of the time; Jim doesn’t like to top ninety-nine percent of the time. I have – and obviously if I have he has – strayed from my “usual” only rarely; and after four and a half years with my husband, except for this cunt-on-a-platter by way of offering an anniversary present for us, it was my husband’s cunt I craved 24/7/365, maybe more now than when we’d first hooked up.
“Get over here and throat fuck him and let him clean you up,” I ordered my husband, who was still chuckling. Evan moaned hungrily.
Jim resumed his position at Evan’s head as I positioned myself at his cunt. Jim held his ankles, both with one hand, while he shoved a pillow under Evan’s shoulders to enable his head to hang down hyper-extended. THAT’S what I should have done earlier – damn my brilliant husband shows me up . . . AGAIN! Then Jim resumed a two-handed ankle hold and began to guide his ten-incher, which was still about eighty-five percent hard, into Evan’s wide-open mouth.
I was transfixed, watching Evan greedily suck and slobber along Jim’s turgid shaft as it entered his mouth, savoring the taste of their fuck the way Jim did me after our own. The outline of Jim’s cockhead against Evan’s throat from inside as it moved down to his clavicle made my breath catch . . . and my cock throb and involuntarily slap Evan’s gaping, messy pucker, bringing me back to my task. Evan sucked in a loud breath through his nose – no way he could breathe any other way, and with Jim’s long fuckshaft down his throat it was a wonder he could even do that.
Jim was grinning at me, his eyes locked with mine all the while, as if Evan was a prop, but we were only two on our bed, in our room. Jim began to very slowly pump his cock in and out, and I could see Evan’s throat distending, still maintaining our locked gaze, his grin widening, his eyes then suddenly taking one quick trip from my eyes to my throbbing, drooling cockhead against the bitch’s fuckhole, then back to mine, now smoldering.
I rubbed my cockhead around Evan’s slimy hole and pressed hard against it. He moaned plaintively, but he thrust his cunt at me enough to make me know he wanted it. I pressed harder, his hole not open enough for me despite Jim’s railing of it so recently. Evan’s body tensed, then with a quick convulsion and a scream around Jim’s cock, which at that moment was buried balls-deep, I was IN.
He was hot, wet, slimy and TIGHT. My cock is considerably thicker than Jim’s, and his is THICK by any standards. Evan’s cuntmuscles were gripping me as tight as his fists were clenched in the bed cover, and I wondered if I’d be able to open him enough to fuck him like he deserved to be fucked.
Jim said, very quietly, “Do what you’re great at, colonel. FUCK that hole!”
Evan, his cunt still clenching and doing its best with already-taxed fuckmuscles to try to expel me, released one hand from the bedspread and threw me a thumbs-up, in tandem with an unintelligible, muffled cry.
My husband’s dirty talking had made me take a deep breath, and my nuts throbbed when I took a bracing breath and inhaled the overwhelming stench of sweaty men, mansex, testosterone and expectation. And that was when my nuts took control; I had none otherwise.
I SHOVED – nothing gentle about it – into Evan, having grabbed his waist as I did for leverage, which I didn’t need. He couldn’t go anywhere – he was pinned in place by Jim’s cock down his throat and Jim’s hands holding Evan’s ankles well above his head. Evan’s shout might have been ear-splitting, had it not been for the penile-muffler noise reduction. But my nuts were in charge, and when my cock surged into him and SLAMMED his prostate, Evan’s convulsion was strong, the cry going from pain to agonizing pleasure.
I started drilling him – long-dicking him with hard stabs, almost pulling my cockhead free, which caused his cuntring to be stretched to its maximum with each outstroke to my wide flange, then DRIVING HARD into him again, brutalizing his p-spot with every thrust. It wasn’t long before Evan’s cock started to stiffen again – a compliment to any top when his bitch gets harder while he’s being fucked with a baseball-bat-sized cock.
“Yeah, babe – he fucking loves it. He knows the ecstasy of what I love every fucking day,” Jim intoned, his voice one of awe, encouragement and savor all at once, still slowly pistoning Evan’s throat.
If I could have done anything other than be mesmerized by Jim’s loving appraisal and by the amazing sight of Evan’s divine composition of roiling muscles as I fucked him, I don’t know. But I definitely could not, just like I could not NOT DRILL him HARD, DEEP and FAST until my nuts were aching from slapping his tailbone. I was in the zone, one I excelled in, and I gave him my best. All the while Jim kept slowly throat fucking him – in and out in long, languid strokes, Evan gasping on the out-strokes drool and snot puddling around his head on the bed where it gushed out of the sides of his mouth.
One of my feet twinged, courtesy of an old injury over Afghanistan (officially, it was an “unscheduled jump;” unofficially and factually, we’d had our transport blown up in mid-air from around us), causing me to wince in a pain that shot from the ball of my right foot to my scalp. When my body flinched, I drove into Evan slightly off-angle that time, and his cock jumped so strongly that a glob of his flowing pre was thrown up into the air to plop back in the pool of sweat and pre in the gutters between his abs. I did it again, purposely that time, and he went wilder that time, his cry from his gut that time, still muffled by his penile gag.
Jackhammering him just that way, I reduced Evan to a spasming, convulsing, shouting mass, and within about ninety seconds his entire body seized. What a fucking sight – every muscle head to toe tensed, perfectly outlined and visible, and I felt it in his cunt clenching so tight around my nine-plus fat inches of horsemeat fuckpole that my incessant jackhammered thrusts were interrupted while I redoubled my efforts just to keep my cock freely sliding within that tightened channel. Then . . . his cock erupted again.
Jim pulled out of his mouth – wisely – as Evan’s body went berserk that time. Jim also did his best to cover Evan’s mouth, because his shouts were so loud and so intense that we easily could have disturbed the neighbors, despite the venerable old building’s virtual soundproofing from unit to unit.
Part of the convulsions turned his cunt into a crazed milking machine, and then I was pulled roughly, quickly over the edge. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKK!” I cried out myself as my cock slammed into him one last time and held there, my pubes ground hard into his ass as I began to pump and unload.
Evan’s seed was almost nonexistent that third time he came, gushing out of his cock more than blasting like before, his nuts completely gone up inside him. His cock though pulsed and twitched violently, waving about, giving its all. My own nut was agonizing, as if my nuts were in a vise or some other torture was befalling them as I pumped and pumped inside him.
I was still planted in Evan, his body now placid and slack around and under me, when Jim’s lips found mine, and he gently kissed me. “GOD you’re almost as amazing fucking someone else as you are fucking me,” he cooed and kissed my neck and laid his head there as I panted and reentered consciousness.
“Jjjjjeeeeessssssuuuussssssssssssss!” came Evan’s voice, sounding exhausted, from beneath us.
“Oh, are you still here?” I joked, choking out the words spasmodically as I still was getting my breathing under control.
“If I’m not, that’s one FUCK of a butt plug I’ve got in me!” he retorted, not missing a beat, and we all laughed at that.
I should interject here that if we hadn’t just drained our nuts, that alone would have made my cock throb. The easy banter of men comfortable with themselves and each other, with their sex and sexuality, was the most extreme aphrodisiac I’d ever experienced. I missed the camaraderie of the Corps; but my husband and I had that always-easy, always-matched guy-mating that if we’d been straight would have been a bromance.
Evan making a joke that easily was also an intrusion, a reminder that Jim and I had “strayed” from our strict mating. I wasn’t certain exactly how I felt about that. Well, I knew I FELT damn good! LOL Isn’t that always the foremost for men anyway, when feelings are concerned?
I laughed at my own thoughts at the time about the strange and wonderful place where we were that day, and again, in the way I’d come to not think odd, Jim answered my unspoken thoughts. Another kiss, gentle, and a gentle rub and caress to the back of my neck like he does. “Happy anniversary,” he said softly against my lips. “And thank you for every single day, every single moment.” Yup . . . this was all fiiiiiiiiine . . . just about US, I thought.
I began to pull out of Evan as gently as I could, but he shouted as I began moving again, “HOLYMOTHEROF—“ and then dissolved into a grunt even louder when my still-flared head popped free. “GIMME THAT!” he begged through his grunt. “Clean you up,” he added.
Jim, immediately, nixed that. “NO! That’s MINE!!” and he was around Evan and had his head at my crotch, inhaling both my cock and the scent of me and him, going to town.
Evan, not to be left out, came around and leaned back over the end of the bed and shoved his face under me and started to lick my sweaty crack and balls. Jim’s and Evan’s mouths were close, and I felt Evan’s tongue on the underside of my shaft at the root, and Jim’s tongue swiped at it once or twice before Evan went back to sucking the sweat out of my shithole and both of them licking me clean.
I finally gently stopped both of them and plopped like a dead soldier onto the bed on my back. Jim laid down next to me with his head against my shoulder, my arm around him. Evan had slid off the bed and hit the floor on his butt with a thud, followed by a loud curse. “JESUSFUCK! I may never be able to sit down again,” he cried, getting to his feet quickly and wincing, his hand involuntarily cupping his buttcheek, which I was sure didn’t help at all.
Seeing us, laying on the bed, me on my back, Jim spooned into my side with his arm possessively across my torso and his face nuzzled into my sweaty neck, I saw Evan’s face first in an appreciative smile and then become uncertain. “I guess I should . . . “ he ventured, then looked around helplessly. His clothes were all still downstairs where they’d been cast off in the entry way.
Without Jim having to prompt me to relax and go with it, I lifted my free arm with great effort and motioned to Evan to join us. I saw on my iWatch that we’d been at it over two and a half hours! We’d already slid toward the Friday afternoon traffic going out of the District, so we could take our time. Evan’s face lit up at my invitation, but he hadn’t moved, so I patted the bed next to me on that side. Then he scrambled up by me and mirrored Jim’s position on my other side.
Jim said sleepily into my neck, “Just a little rest, then we’ll get cleaned up and head out.” He reached his hand to over Evan’s arm which was across my midsection and rubbed Evan a little. “Thanks for being a great sport, Evan.”
“Guys, seriously, this has been amazing. I may never function naturally again – uh, you know, back there – but what a way to celebrate a birthday.”
“Anniversary,” I corrected.
“Yeah,” he replied. And then, after a beat, “And my thirty-fifth birthday.”
Jim asked, “When’s your birthday?” with a laugh, that I was sure Evan didn’t get because he wouldn’t know the longtime Corps public code phrase for “Are you gay and do you want to do something?” that we used with each other. I chuckled, too.
“Today,” he answered seriously, confirming that private joke had gone over his head. “Yeah, I know, right?” Evan said huskily into my shoulder. “A great celebration all the way around. And just for the record, you blew my plans totally.” When we both asked him how, he added, “I was going to hit the gym tonight and get my body all pumped up, then hit the Eagle and get all pumped FULL. You two are hotter than anyone I’d find there, and damn, your fucking cocks . . . and your fucking . . . and . . . “
We both laughed, Jim gripping Evan’s arm over me, and me pulling them both close. “Anyone need a blanket for a nap?” I asked.
“Just TRY and get me to move one second before I can’t stay here any longer with you guys. I dare you!”
We all three laughed at that and fell asleep for a while before resuming our regularly scheduled lives. Evan did text us a photo of himself, which we got on our drive home from the District. When I say of “himself” it was a picture of him, in a stupid paper cardboard birthday hat, shot up from underneath, showing his puffy, sore asshole, still slightly gaping fuckhole and a huge grin and thumb up. He’d superimposed text on the photo: “I took on two HOT studs for my birthday, and I DIDN’T get a t-shirt. I GOT EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED/NEEDED” I texted back: “Gymnasts take pommel HORSECOCKS better.” Okay, it was the best I could do. Evan texted back, “Thanks again, guys. Happy anniversary and have a great weekend.”
“I’d say he definitely deserves a decathlon medal,” was Jim’s response, and we both laughed.
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