Gay Erotic Stories

“Hey, Carl,” I yelled out from below the deck sight line. “Would now be the time for me to try out that new BMW convertible of yours?”

“Absolutely,” Carl eagerly yelled back. “Here’re the keys. Take a nice long drive.” And the keys came spinning over the deck rails, accompanied by giggles from Angela.

I heard them move into the house, and I went over to the enclosed shower at the base of the stairs to the deck, grabbed up my shorts from the lower step, and slung them over the five-foot wall separating the shower from the beach. I stepped into the shower and stripped off my Speedo. I flipped it onto the top of the stall next to my shorts, and turned the shower on full blast, allowing the cool water to run over my well-cut body. I lathered up and rinsed off, unthinkingly letting my hand wander to my crotch, cupping my balls and running down my half hard on, cursing both Carl and Angela. Full of indecision, because I didn’t know whether I envied Carl—or Angela—the most.

I quickly and roughly toweled off and grabbed for my shorts. I was in so much of a hurry to put distance between me and Carl and Angela that I didn’t bother with either underwear or a T. I just stepped into the loose, elastic-waisted shorts, checked to make sure my wallet with my license and my sunglasses were there, put my feet into my deck shoes, and headed toward Carl’s new BMW. Take a long ride, he’d said. I’d do that for sure.

I headed inland on a back road, the top down, and me working on my tan, and then, 100 miles out, I turned onto the expressway to head back. Not more than 20 miles on the journey back, though, the convertible sputtered and I drifted over to the side of the road.

Gawd. I’d been looking at the wrong dial to check the gas supply. I was out. Empty. A quick check also told me that I had practically no cash and had taken the credit cards out of my wallet before I’d hit the beach. Shit. I’d have to try to hitch a ride all the way back to the beach and come back with gas and Carl. Oh well, that would keep his hands off Angela for a couple of hours.

I got out of the car and leaned back on the hood, wondering how people managed to hitch a ride these days when everyone was scared of everyone else. And here I was, practically nude, my bodybuilder’s body probably a sign of trouble to half the motorists on the road.

I didn’t have to worry for long. A big semitruck slowed down beside the Beamer and pulled off the road ahead of me.

I sauntered up the side of the truck and looked up into a pleasant face with a big, friendly grin underneath unruly dirty blond hair and clear blue eyes. The guy looked like he was in his early forties and real capable.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

“Just out of gas,” I said. “But I don’t have any cash or credit cards with me and am just looking for a ride back to the beach where I can get help.”

“No problem,” he said, with a lopsided grin. “I’m heading in that direction. Hop in.”

“Thanks. But just a minute,” I responded. “I’ve got to go back and button the car down.”

“Sure,” he grinned, but you don’t look like the buttoned down type. He was looking me up and down pretty good.

I laughed. “Sorry, I left the beach in a hurry, I’m afraid. I don’t usually hang out this much.”

“No problem,” he said, with a grin.

When I’d gotten the BMW’s top in place and had locked up and opened the passenger door to the semi cab, I did a double-take. I could have sworn the driver had had a shirt on when I was talking to him from the ground, but he didn’t now. He was lean and wiry, but well-muscled, the veins on his tight arm and chest muscles popping out. But what was most prominent was the intricate design of tattoos that covered the whole left side of his torso, from his shoulder down to at least his waist—some sort of climbing ivy design, with the eyes of animals peering out around the leaves. Very intriguing.

“I like to hang out too,” he said, as I belted up and he swung back into traffic. “It’s a perk of being your own man on the open road. You can do mostly as you please as long as you don’t go more than five miles over the speed limit. Name’s Mac,” he continued. “As in the truck. Your’s?”

“Buck, it’s actually Buckley, a family name, but everyone calls me Buck.”

“Well, put it there, Buck,” and he put out his free hand, which I took. He had a good, firm grip, which he kept in place an extra second or two, his eyes taking mine in as long as he could spare from checking the road. “Good name, Buck. Sort of like Stud, leaves a good, solid impression.”

I thought this one over as we motored down the road. I looked over and saw that his eyes were off the road again and checking out my pecs. He saw me seeing him scanning me, just as he done when I had been standing on the road talking up at him.

“Nice bod,” he said. “Work out a lot, do you?”

“Not a whole lot,” I answered, “probably mostly good genes. You look like you keep in shape too,” I added, just to be sociable.

“Yep, I lift weights when I can. Hard to do when you’re on the road so much.”

“Yes, I can understand that,” I answered, searching for conversation material.

“But there are lots of ways to keep in shape,” he went on. “I manage to get a good workout even when I’m on the road. There are all sorts of interesting opportunities for that on the road.”

He was looking at me again, almost as if he was sizing me up. I didn’t quite know what to think of that.

We moved on down the road in silence for a bit. I felt a crick in my neck and lifted my hand to rub it and twisted my neck around.

Mac noticed what I was doing. “Stiff neck muscles?” he asked. “That’s a typical problem of road work. Here, I know how to get those knots out quickly.”

Without even asking permission, he lifted his free hand up and gripped the back of my neck and began applying pressure with his fingers and working the knots out. My initial reaction was to pull away from his too-intimate compromising grip, but his massage was working wonders. I revolved my neck, enjoying the release of tension and the aching muscles.

“It comes from the way you hold your shoulders,” he was saying, “so you have to work them out as well.” And, keeping his eyes mostly on the road, he moved his hands alternately from my neck out along my right shoulder and massaged my biceps there and then back to my left shoulder and to the biceps of my left arm.

“Even the pecs become involved,” he said, and, incredulously I felt his massaging hand on my right breast, kneading it ever so gently. “Whatever workout you’re doing,” he said, it’s working out real well.

“Uh,” I responded, starting to pull away, but, horrors of horrors, felt my cock coming to life. I opened my eyes, and, double horrors, I could see the tenting of my shorts at my crotch. My eyes flashed over to Mac, and I saw that he was stealing glances at the tenting as well.

“Uh,” I started to say something again.

“Just relax,” Mac was saying. “You are tensing up again. Don’t worry; it’s just a sports massage. It’s just how we relieve the tensions of the road.”

And then, before I could regroup and think of a graceful way out of this, Mac asked, “Got a girlfriend?” Without waiting for an answer, though, he added, “Bet you keep her real satisfied.” He probably had said this just to establish for sure that he’d seen me getting hard.

“Uh, no, not at present,” I responded. “Got a girlfriend right now, I mean. Well, there is someone, but it’s a little complicated.”

“No girl to stick. Ah, that probably has something to do with the built up tension. Not a good thing for a guy named Buck to be without a good fuck for any length of time. You really should do something for that tension. Here, this should help.”

Thankfully, his hand left their kneading of my pecs and moved around to between my shoulder blades. He worked his hand down to the small of my back, massaging all of the way down. I had to admit that it felt good. But I tensed up again when the hand came around my waist and massaged around my abs.

“Ah, but maybe you’ve got a boyfriend,” Mac said with a little laugh.

“No, of course not,” I exploded with indignance. I gave a little lurch toward the passenger door, but my cock gave a little lurch at the suggestion as well, and gave my building interest away. The rising tent of my loose shorts hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mac, either. I just hoped he hadn’t discerned the small lie. Carl had only fucked me twice, though, so I’m not sure that constituted having a boyfriend.

“Ah, there’s nothing wrong with being bi, I always say, or even just being a bit experimental—to get rid of the tensions, of course” answered Mac, with a chuckle. “On the road you take what you can get, where you can get it—and sometimes from whoever you can get it. Getting that exercise where you can get. And, you know, as long as the other one is good lookin’, congenial, and willing. Then what’s the harm to that? Who’s to care, what I always say.”

What could I say to that? I’d have to think about that. Not sure how long I’d have to think about that, though. As Mac’s hand was now resting on my belly, just above the elastic waistband of my shorts.

We drove on down the road a mile or two in that standoff. I knew now what Mac wanted, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to force himself on me. He was obviously waiting for some sort of signal, either way. I was trying to keep even breaths, willing my cock to recede, which it stubbornly was unwilling to do. Mac softly whistling a catchy tune, his eyes on the road, was searching the signs that were passing us by.

“You’re certainly good lucking and take real good care of yourself,” he said after a few moments of silence. “Can’t see anyone turning you down, female or male.” Still waiting for that signal; begging for that signal. I said nothing. A few more moments of silence. This was all new ground for me. Beyond a couple of slips with Carl, I hadn’t even worked any of this out in my own mind.

“Me.” he said, “How do I come across to you? Do you find me good lookin’ too?”

A few more moments of silence while I struggled with myself, my needs, my anger at both Carl and Angela. “Yeah,” I said, now resigned. “Yeah, I find you very good looking. Just what I thought a trucker of interest might be like. Strong, steely . . . and capable.”

“So, ever thought about truckers?” he asked, clearly pleased at my response. “Ever thought of doing it with a trucker?”

“No,” I said with a nervous little laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever given any thought before about doing it with a trucker.” But, of course, I had now that I thought about it. And I’d thought about truckers who were rougher and not as careful and concerned about what I thought as Mac was being.

A few seconds of silence.

“Thinking of doing it with a trucker now?” Mac asked in a low voice, suddenly all serious and intense. Searching for that signal.

A few seconds of high-tension silence. Oh, what the fuck, I thought to myself. “Yeah, sure, why not?” I whispered.

“What was that?” Mac asked sharply?

“Yes,” I said more loudly, more definitively. And I felt my body just completely relax at that, the decision made, no more struggling. No second guessing.

Mac felt me relax too, and his hand came down across the fabric of my shorts, and found my cock. He fingered my cock through the silkiness of the shorts, running his fingers down it, measuring me, feeling me fill out.

“Gawd,” he said, letting out a big breath. “How big is that muva?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seven and half, maybe eight inches,” I said, finding it hard to breathe, all my sensations rushing to my crotch.

“Maybe eight and half or nine,” he responded and gave a low whistle. “Oh gawd, oh gawd,” he kept muttering, as he stroked me through the fabric. “Oh gawd, oh happy day. How does that feel?”

“OK. No, fine. Ah, fuck, no, Great,” I managed to croak, pushing my legs apart as far as I could in the cab. He hand left my cock and moved down to my right thigh. He explored and massaged the muscles there gently and then moved to my right left thigh and did the same. I sighed and scooched down a bit in the seat. All the time his eyes were frantically searching the road signs we were passing. He clearly was looking for something in particular. I felt his hand running up my inner thigh, under the fabric of my shorts. He had a finger on the perineum right at the base of my balls.”

“Gawd, damn,” he let loose with a puff of breath. “You aren’t wearing briefs.”

“No,” I answered. “As I said, I left the beach in a hurry. Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?” he exploded. “Do I mind? Fuck, no. But I think these pants are going to kill me, I’ve got such a hard on. Can you do something about that?”

“You mean you want me to do something? Here? Me? Me to you?”

His looked at me. His eyes were wild and imploring. He took my balls gently in his hand and started to roll them. I groaned in surprise and ecstasy, but I did as he asked, unbuckling a huge brass buckle advertising Texas, slowly unzipping his jeans, and tugging them down his slim hips. He was wearing bright red pouch underwear. I couldn’t find an opening in them, so I just lifted them up and tucked them under his balls. A long, thin engorged cock—wiry like Mac himself—sprang up from a dirty-blond bush. I marveled at the length of it, crooked over a bit near the end, as Mac let out a sigh of relief. But I marveled even more to find that his entwining ivy and animal tattoo came down his side and looped up to encircle the base of his cock as well. I felt his hand leave my balls, and a finger slowly tracked its way down along my perineum and came to rest at the rim of my asshole. I gave a little lurch, as I heard Mac yell “Eureka!”

I was quickly to learn that he wasn’t yelling about his latest advance on my body, however. He’d seen the sign he’d been looking for. Four more miles to a rest stop. He returned both hands to the wheel in anticipation of turning in off the road, now his full concentration on his driving.

“We’re almost there and I’ll have to pay attention to getting turned.” he said. “But, but could you touch me. I’m dying here,” he added almost apologetically.

“Touch you?” I asked, innocently. “You mean like this?” I leaned over and gently encircled his cock and pulled down so that the foreskin came off his dick head. He shuddered and sighed. I let go of his cock and ran my hand up his tight belly and to his nipples, and then traced his tattoo design all the way from his neck down to around his cock. He sighed again, as he pulled into the rest stop and drove all the way to the back of the truck section, nosing into the far corner. He no sooner had the engine off than he’d turned to me, draped his long right arm around my neck, grabbing at my right pec with his strong right hand. He put his left hand on my sternum and ran it down along my abs and belly and continued on under the elastic of my shorts, pulling them down over my buttocks and my feet and tossing them into the corner of the passenger compartment floor. His right arm flipped back around my neck, and he had both of his hands wrapped around my dick as if it might escape him if he didn’t hold it in place. His lips were on my nipples and moving down my chest and stomach until they landed on the head of my cock, which he slurped and tongued and sucked like it was a Popsicle. I just laid back and enjoyed the sensation.

His right hand left my cock, and I heard and felt the pop of my seat belt. He reached back into the compartment behind the seats and brought out two big, fluffy pillows.

“Here, turn toward me and put these behind you,” he said in a hoarse voice, as his mouth came off my cock. I did as he asked. I brought my left leg up, and he lifted it to the back of his seat, lodging my calf behind his headrest. The heel of my right foot now rested on his side of the floor. He took my dick in his mouth again and pumped and sucked me until I spasmed and jacked off. I hadn’t realized how much tension I’d built up and how much I needed to cum. Keeping one hand wrapped around my rod and the other wandering across my belly, abs, and chest, he then licked his way down to my asshole and gave me a good eating out. I moaned and writhed appropriately, and after a few minutes of this, he sat back up, leaned back, and just let out a howl.

“Man that was good. That’s one tasty cock and ass you’ve got, Dude.”

I pulled my leg from around his back, turned around, moved over and above him, and straddled his lap, between him and the steering wheel. This apparently caught him completely by surprised. My cock, now only half hard, lay on top of his, and I encircled them both in my hand, looked him in the eye, and said. “And so, Mr. Mac Truck, what can I do for you now?”

“What?” he said in reply. “Do for me? Do more than you’ve done, what you’ve let me do? Hey, guy, I know you’re a rich, young BMW owner and an Apollo to boot and I’m just an old truck jockey. You’ve already surprised the hell out of me on what you’ve let me do. I don’t expect more than that for a ride to the beach.”

“But, what would you really like to do to me?” I asked, squeezing our cocks together with one hand and tracing the design of his tattoo across his left breast with the other hand, lightly brushing across an erect nipple.

“Why, I’d like to fuck your brains out, of course,” he flipped out, as if it was a joke, something beyond comprehension or possibility.

“No problem,” I shot back.

“You serious?” he responded in disbelief.

“Absolutely. Right here, right now. No problem.”

“Hot damn,” he yelled. And then he took command again. “Turn yourself around,” he said. And while I was doing that, he opened the glove compartment, took out some ointment, and began lathering up my asshole.

When I was turned around, I leaned into the steering wheel, which sounded the horn. We both laughed, as he reached over, pushed a button on the dash, and the horn stopped blaring. I crouched there, suspended above him, hugging the steering wheel, while he brought the head of his long cock into position, and then I slowly descended on him, taking him in slowly. I could feel the slight crock in his cock bring the head of his dick against the upper wall of my ass canal, and I gasped and felt some precum bubble up from my own cock as his dick head dragged along my prostate. He was muttering that we should take it slow, to permit me to open to him, but, truth be known, he was not nearly as big as Carl was, so I wasn’t having all that much trouble accommodating him. Both he and I could feel my sphincter take the head of his cock and pull him into me, and we both moaned and sighed with pleasure in unison. He wasn’t as big as Carl, but he was longer, and I felt him gliding up inside me for what seemed to be ages before I settled into his lap.

We both held it there for a moment, suspended in time and pleasure, but he then started to writhe under me. I came up and back down a couple of times to help him get into a rhythm, but then I held myself up, wrapped around the steering wheel and let him pump me from below. He worked himself into a frenzy, his hands wandering all over me, while his hips worked their way up and down in an ever-faster motion. And he moaned and cussed and told me how good I was and how much pleasure I was giving him in no uncertain words and in loud tones. When I felt him cum, I sat back into his lap, and he wrapped his arms around my chest, buried his face in the small of my back, thanked me again, and whispered something I didn’t quite get.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I told you we had other ways of exercising on the road,” he said in a louder voice.

The door beside us was jerked open, and a voice boomed out, “We sure do, Dudes. Make some noise, why don’t ya? You had us over here with the horn honk.”

There stood three of the burliest men I’d ever seen, led by a bald, heavily muscled wrestler type with a mighty big grin.

“I want some of that myself,” the man mountain said, as he pulled me off Mac’s dick and hauled me down from the truck. Before either Mac or I could do or say anything, this guy and a shorter, stockier guy were carrying me away from the truck, while the third man was arguing with Mac and pushing his way into the cab. While I was being hauled away, I saw Mac turned sideways and on his back, his feet looking for purchase on the frame of the cab door, and a big, top-heavy trucker, his pants down around his knees pushing himself into the cab opening and into Mac as well.

“Just I minute,” the little guy said, arresting the movement of the bald guy who had me well under control. “I want to see this.”

We stood there in an entangled bunch, while Mac rose up and appeared in the door of the cab briefly, until the bigger guy backhanded him across the mouth and back down across the seats. The trucker was standing up on the running board. He kicked his pants off and tore his T-shirt up and over his massive shoulders. He was standing there just in his construction worker’s boots, and even I could see that he looked magnificent from behind. The big, bulky shoulders tapered down to a small waist, but his hips carried bulbous butt cheeks, and his thighs and calves were heavily muscled. His hands went into the cab and Mac’s jeans came out and were thrown onto the ground. Mac must have tried to crawl back across the seat, because his legs disappeared and one of the big guy’s knees went up onto the edge of the seat so that I could see big hairy balls and a pendulous, thick dong hanging down between his legs.

I heard a loud command and another heavy slap, and Mac’s legs and lower butt appeared at the cab door again. He was still on his back. The big guy forced Mac’s right leg through the truck door window and cranked the window up to hold his leg there and splayed his left leg up and between the truck cab side and a side bar on the other side of the door. He now had two free hands and Mac trapped in place. One hand got busy finger and fist-fucking Mac’s asshole and taking time out occasionally to push Mac back down on the seat, and the other one was engaged in vigorously working up his own cock, and eventually, in guiding his cock to Mac’s hole. And then, after he had plunged in, both hands went to squeezing and slapping Mac’s butt cheeks in rhythm with his pumping action. He had one foot on the running board and the other one up on the edge of the cab floor and, with this leverage, was pumping away at Mac’s butt like pistons on an oil rig. Mac was hollering through this for all he was worth.

My own big guy apparently couldn’t hold off with his own action any longer. He had been holding me with one arm and squeezing something big under the fabric of his pants crotch. He suddenly gave out an animal sound and dragged me away from the truck, with stubby Zack following along behind, in reverse, watching the action in Mac’s truck for as long as he could.

I was carried into the brush just beyond the nose of the truck and slapped down hard on my back on top of an old picnic table in what had once been a small clearing, now obviously abandoned.

“Look what we got here, Zack,” the bald one said, “A real looker; pretty face and fine bod. This is going to be fun.”

I started to come up off the table and cursed him and he struck me across the mouth with the back of his hand, not real hard, but hard enough for me to get the point. He then pushed me back on the table with a big mitt on my chest, and I had the good sense to stay there.

“Git behind him, Zack. Keep his arms and mouth busy.”

Zack laughed hard at that. But he was behind me in a flash and was up on the table holding my arms down with his knees. He’d stripped his pants off before coming up on the table and his dick was dangling over my head. It wasn’t a long one, but it was thick.

“Here, swallow this, Pretty Boy,” he yelled at me. “And no funny business or I’ll beat the shit out of you.” I took him in my mouth and tongued his dick head, which seemed to please him enough that he subsided into sighs and groans of pleasure. As his dick hardened, he fucked my face, but not too brutally, and kneaded my pecs and nipples with his hands.

Meanwhile below me, the bald guy was holding one of my legs up and out with one hand behind my knee and was stuffing the fingers of his other hand up my ass.

“Gawd, that’s nice,” he groaned. He extracted his fingers, and I could feel him slapping what felt like a large sausage on my thighs and against my butt cheeks, obviously hardening it up, which didn’t take long. I felt what seemed to be the end of a baseball bat come up to and just into my asshole. And then he had my ankles in both hands and was wish-boning both of my legs out and pushing into me. My sphincter muscles grabbed him and pulled him in, and he plunged, make noisy sounds of pleasure and triumph.

There was pain, to be sure, but I had fantasized this as well as my encounter with the other trucker, so I wrote it up to experience and experimentation and enjoyed as well as endured it, not, of course, revealing any of this to my assaulters. Zach really got fully into the mood of the assault and hunched over me and swallowed my cock as well, so I was getting a little action myself.

I must have fainted under the bald one’s attempt to send his cock up into my stomach, because the first thing I knew, Zach and his guerilla were gone and Mac was sitting on the picnic table beside me, sponging my body off with cool water.

“Hey, you all right, Buddy?” Mac asked me in a voice full of concern when he saw that I was coming around.

“Yes, I think I’ll live,” I answered. “But did you get the license number of that truck?”

“I’m glad you can joke about it,” Mac said. “I rather enjoyed my encounter; I like it kind of rough and to be a surprise. But I was really worried about the gangbanging you were getting over here.”

“Well, it’s an experience I certainly won’t forget,” I answered. “I guess I won’t have to hesitate ever again if I’m asked if I’ve done it with a guy.”

“No, I suppose not,” he answered in a pensive voice, as he played gently with my cock. I could feel it on the rise again.

“Why the regret in the voice?” I asked.

“I’m just sorry I never got the chance to feel this in me,” he answered, a bit embarrassed at the confession.

“No problem,” I said, as I rolled over and pushed myself off of the table with a groan at the painful and stiff muscles. “Gotta work those tensions out again anyway.”

Mac gave me a surprised look and seemed unable to think of anything to say. He’d gotten his jeans back on before coming to look for me, and I stood in front of and close to him and held his eyes with mine as I unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his zipper, and pulled his jeans down and off his legs. I smiled as I saw that the ivy pattern continued on down his left thigh and calf and even wound around his foot.

“Here, kneel on the picnic bench with your elbows on the table. Yes, but spread your legs. Too bad we don’t have the ointment here, but I’ll see what I can do.”

I went down on my knees behind him and started licking and tonguing his asshole.

“Oh gawd, you don’t have to do that. Oh gawd, oh gawd, yes, don’t stop, oh, oh,” he was muttering as I moistened him up with my tongue. After a couple of minutes of this, I stood up and just walked up to and into him, holding my cock with one hand, the other hand on the small of his back. I went in just a couple of inches and then took my cock in my hand and rotated it around his ass canal. He moaned and sighed, and told me how much he was enjoying this. And then I slowly pushed my way in all the way to the hilt, and his moans turned to grunts, and he began to grind his hips. I took hold of them with my hands and held them still as I moved my buried cock up and down, back and forth, and in a corkscrew motion. And then I began pumping him. Slowly at first, staying deep, and then faster and faster, drawing almost out of him and plunging to the end. He was making a lot of noise, to the point that I began to be afraid that another batch of horny truckers would find us and do us again, but he subsided into whimpers, as I withdrew and squirted my load across his back.

He apparently appreciated the service, because before dusk, he had delivered me all the way to the end of the driveway at the beach house. And I was ready now to face Carl with a few new tricks of my own. I found them in Angela’s bedroom. The view I got as I walked into the room was Angela’s legs splayed out and Carl hunched between them at the edge of the bed, pumping her, causing her to give little yelps of pleasure. His tight butt cheeks looked so perky as they bobbed in and out between her legs that I just pulled my shorts back off and came up behind him.

They both jerked a little in surprise as I saddled up behind Carl. I rubbed his back with one hand, and reached underneath with my other hand and felt where Carl was buried up to the root in Angela’s cunt. They both seemed to enjoy what I was doing down there.

“Can I play too?” I whispered in Carl’s ear.

“Yeah, sure, I guess so, Carl,” answered somewhat uncertainly. We’d never done anything like this before.

I let my hand drift down along Angela’s perineum until I found her asshole, which I stroked. She reacted by rolling her hips up, bringing Carl farther up on her and giving me more room to get at her asshole. I found the tube of lubricant on the bed beside them, pushed out a dab, and started working the ointment into her ass.

“You okay with this, Angela?” I asked over Carl’s shoulder.

“Huh, I guess so,” she grunted. I would have thought so. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d fucked Angela in the ass. Just the first time I would have done it with Carl’s Dick up her cunt as well. I fingered her for a few minutes and then started working my cock into her ass. She was grunting and moaning, and Carl seemed to enjoy me behind him too.

I got my cock up into her a good ways but then withdrew and drug the head of it up her perineum to just under Carl’s cock.

“Wha . . .” Angela started to object. But I pushed Carl over onto her and he, getting an idea of what I was up to, rose farther up on her. He took her hands in his and splayed them up and out above her head and dove for her lips with his, stifling any objection she might have made.

I already knew that Angela had a nice, big, stretched hole, so when Carl rode up on her, I knew there was room under his cock for mine, and I slowly entered her, under him. Our two cocks were energized by the friction between the two. Carl rose up off Angela, which allowed me to snake my arms around him and bury my fingers into his pecs and search out his nipples. I moved one hand down to his belly. He gave little moans and shudders, which were almost lost in the louder moans and groans coming from Angela. I moved one of my hands to stroking her pendulous breasts and to giving her taut, bulbous nipples some attention too. Carl and I were alternating our pumps inside Angela and she was bucking under us, clearly into this new game.

But then I moved on to my ultimate objective. I slowly pulled out of Angela and grabbed a gob of ointment and started lathering up Carl’s asshole. He went into shock and started to object and rise up, but Angela, thinking he was trying to pull out of her as well before she had her orgasm, wrapped her arms around him and her legs around both of us to hold him to her.

I abandoned the niceties and just went ahead and pushed my dick into Carl’s ass, worked my arms around his chest, and just pumped and pumped and pumped until I had cum and released all of my pent-up anger with the both of them. Carl surprised me, though. He enjoyed it and sighed and moaned under my attentions, and, when he came inside Angela, and she answered with an orgasm of her own, it was me he was kissing.