A gay story: His Pussy Boy Pt. 06 Earth came back to me in a gentle murmur, like the quiet mumbling of a brook, besides which heavenly creatures just had their impertinent mating. I felt the warmth of the hand holding my wrist, the right separate from the left, the hold tight and confident. I let out a groan as I felt the thick smooth punch of a lube-lined glans inched deeper and deeper inside my very receptive, ever so slightly looser asshole.
How could it not be? After the night I had faced down with two gorgeous very married, very differently characterized cocks, I would have to be forgiven if I was slightly lacking in some sexual aspects. Be as it might I clenched the tired ring muscles of my anal chute, ever receptive to a rampant demanding cock, receptive and thankful.
I opened my eyes. Sore, clouded light welcomed my sight, as if veiled. I remembered the last vestiges of the seminal bukkake John and Clark gave me last night. How some of the thick clumps of semen must had snagged in my hair, dripping into my eyelashes – hence the misty cloudiness of my vision. It had tasted great too, John’s sweet tangy pineapple-laced concoction mixed with Clark’s muskier, earthier drops.
I lifted my head, trying to see who was the one fucking me. Immediately sore muscles screamed my name in curses and agony, muscles long not used and – if Clark would have his way, like he said at a point last night – would have seen repetitive use over the next few months at least. I let out a pitiful groan and watched azure eyes lift brightly in a sensuous smile.
“Good morning, pussy boy,” Clark murmured, before giving me a subtle nod of his hips, pushing his thick-set cock over my prostate. The endearment sounded strange coming from him, this straitlaced family guy who coached Little League football and had the pictures of his children on every surface of his home, this family guy who had his supposedly faithful cock embedded into my treacherous depths. It sounded… more wrong.
Like fuck I cared if it was.
“John’s making some coffee, and if the cuck understands what I said he’s making breakfast too.” Clark’s hand let go of my wrist and slithered down into the nook between my thighs, meeting with my dripping morning wood. “In the meantime, we’ll be up here, making um, acquaintances, heh.” He punctuated the word with a nudge of his cock. “Fuck, your ass’ so warm, so nice to come to in the mornings.”
“I know.” My voice sounded hoarse, as if I had spent the entire night screaming. In a matter of speaking, I did. Cough. “John said that once.”
“Shut up about John. I’m the one fucking you now.”
“Duly noted,” I said wryly. I clenched my anal ring, and bent to lave some love on his nipple, earning myself a grunt. It was funny how this family man blackmailing me and John had the nerve to be jealous of us. Men.
“And the way your ass tightens up around both our cocks, God, someone should make an imprint of your ass and sell it in sex shops! Would work better than fucking blue pills any day.” Clark was livelier now, his thrusts reciprocated with my writhing, as if two serpents in copulation. The dirty talk singing praises to my asshole helped plenty.
Alas all good things had to come to end as Clark’s thrusts intensified and his grunts doubled in volume, as if unafraid anyone would hear him, be it John, be it Amanda next door. I moaned deeply as I felt the intruding cock-head vibrate deep inside my hole, sputtering forth white-hot cum, the nth load of my session with Clark. The man of the hour himself had his lips latched onto the nape of my neck, where it would turn into a telling bruise the next day, breathing obscenities and satisfaction down my skin.
“Coffee’s ready. Wow, fuck, gentlemen,” John appeared on the door. He slow clapped as he continued, “What a way, what a way to start the day.”
Clark just grunted, back to his strong silent poker-face, although his cock was still spurting semen for all its worth. Yours truly was riding an orgasm, triggered when John came into the room, so was rather unable to mouth anything except… “Fuck.”
“You truly are. Truly, massively, undoubtedly… fucked.” John smiled, and there it was the man I fell in love with, and I knew whatever happened last night – and this morning – I still was his love, his pussy boy.