He'd always welcome me in the same way. Vodka, a snort of amyl to get relaxed, maybe a smoke. He'd have set the place up already, the steady beat of the music throbbing through the living room speakers, fighting with the sound of porn on the large TV, the only light in the living room, with lights dimmed in the kitchen. It was the same that night.
We never fucked in his bedroom. I'd taken his cock in plenty of positions and placed around his house: fucked on the floor, sucked him on the stairs, sprawled over the dining table while he worked my arse, up against the glass and tiles in what was supposed to be a post-fuck clean-up shower. Once he got me a bit drunk, maybe a bit high and definitely lightheaded on amyl before making me rim and suck him for two hours. I'd even blown him on his balcony while he had a smoke. But we never did anything in the bedroom, except one time when he asked me to pick the porn. And I never went into the bedroom. That was cool with me. Kept it casual, a one off every now and again. Most of the sweating and moaning was done in the living room.
He always left the door unlocked for when I was coming over, and -- if I cycled -- could hear me navigating the bike into the land. So, by the time I walked up the stairs he was ready to greet me.
He -- I'll call him The Man - ls leaning back on the edge of the kitchen bench as he watches me strip down. He's only in his jockstrap, and waits for me to strip down to mine. He's fit, more obvious without the body hair (he was always clean, and waxed his body hair except the tightly trimmed pubes around his cock). Not hugely built, but defined (more than me, which always made me a bit self-conscious). I might be taller at 6'2 but he was undoubtedly stronger. I always joked that if it came down to wrestling I knew I'd lose. He did too. But, as he knew as well, if it came down to wrestling I'd enjoy the feeling of resisting for a while, and then surrender myself and eagerly submit to his whims.
There is a light layer of sweat of my skin from my ride here through the night. When I'm down to my underwear he beckons me over, putting his hand on my chest as he asks, "You clean properly?" I nod before he pulls me in close for a long kiss, his tongue pressing into my mouth. I can taste the vodka on his breath. I'm not expecting the sudden pull of air from my lungs as he sucks it out from me, holding it for long seconds. I start to feel giddy, beyond aroused, and ready to do whatever he wants.
He's feeling playful, I can see that in his eyes. Reaching muscular arms behind my back, his fingers walking towards my arse crack, pressing against the fabric to find my hole. My cock is pushing against the fabric of my underwear. The drink and poppers have left me a bit dizzy as his fingers slide up my naked back, along the back of my neck and into my hair. He pulls my face away and smiles, his eyes full of wickedness, as he runs fingers gently along the hair along my jawline before pushing my head down. He only presses my mouth against his nipple briefly, a faint hint of Tom Ford scent, before he pushes me further down towards his crotch. I can feel the scent of his cock, clean through the fabric.
My lips on the fabric I feel his manhood twitch as he hardens. "Slowly," he utters. I want to take him in my mouth hard and fast. He knows I do. But that's not what he wants. But it's the same dance each time, and we savor it. And it's to remind me, again, who's in charge. And to slip the collar around my neck. As he buckles it closed I can feel the steel of the leash snake down my back, cold. He wants me to remember who is in charge. And that he'll get exactly what he wants. He pulls my head up, lightly slipping of the bend and pulls me along by the leash to the lounge chairs. He has put a low mat on the floor in front of the lounge chairs. And I can see the usual things laid out table - cockring, lube, condoms, towel, a few bottles of amyl (he's has a few around the room...you never knew where we'd end up). He tells me to slowly, ever so slowly flip down the front of my briefs before he scoops out my cock and balls with his fingers. He stretched the cock ring, slipping it over my balls and tool. "There."
Dropping a towel down to the floor (considerate for my knees) he jerks the leash, pulling me back. I know this means he wants me on the floor. As I drop to my knees he reclines back on his lounge like he's king of everything he sees - me kneeling in front of him, his tanned and toned legs either side of my head, and the porn on the screen behind me. He takes a snort of amyl in each nostril before handing me the bottle. I can smell it before I put it near my face. He was the one who introduced me to it first. Here, in his place, the whiff carried with it memories of tight muscle, tanned skin, porn on the tv, hard cock inside me, fucking, sweat, losing control and cum.
Handing the bottle back he gently tilts my head up as I sniff. Eager. And then again. It makes my pulse race in time with the music, strong alive. All I want to do is slide his cock in my and then having him fuck me in time with the beat until I wear his cum. But I know that's not his thing so I kiss him lightly before letting him push my head down. I trace up and down his thighs with my tongue, slowly, intentionally, my eyes half shut. I know he is hard underneath the fabric. He lifts his legs up, exposing his arse. I know he wants my tongue licking his hole, probing it. I oblige him. My saliva makes his arsehole slick and I press my tongue into him, flicking up and down, then around. I hear him moan then take another hit of amyl before his legs close around my head, pressing me into him. I feel like I am licking for ages, giddy from the amyl, before he lets up. His arsehole looks soaked from my saliva, dripping from him onto the towel.
The Man traces a finger along my lips as he pulls off the jockstrap. Normally he waits for me to do that but I'm not unhappy. For the first time that night I see his cock and balls. His cock is stiff, waiting for my tongue and throat. "The balls, first," he says, as I lower my mouth to his sac, licking the soft skin, taking in his smell and feeling his tool hard against my cheek. I lick, suck and nibble each of his balls slowly, in turn. I wash his shaved sac with my tongue and saliva till it glistens. "Now you can," he says an I lick my way up the back of his shaft, feeling the tight skin on the tip of my tongue. Sliding down I wrap my lips around it, my head titled, both my lips on either side of his cock sliding down and up. I finally work my way to his head, running my tongue along it, over his pisshole then taking him into my mouth. I slowly and gently work my way down along his cock, feeling it fill my mouth, the sensation unfamiliar. He grips my hair as I take him in and out of my mouth, slowly and gently. I have to focus to pace myself -- I want to take him in my mouth in time with the music, but I know what he wants. Slow, deliberate. If I slide my lips too fast, he jerks on the chain, or pulls his cock out, slapping it against my mouth. If he's really displeased he'll leave me kneeling with my mouth open, teasing me with his cock, before pulling the chain as he leans down to spit in my mouth. "Worship me how I want, slut.' His cock in my mouth, seconds become minutes, minutes follow each other. He pushes my head down hard, the sudden press of his cock in my throat making me gag. I think I heard him say something. Something about a surprise.
I feel fingers pull down my briefs, hands spreading my cheeks before cold wet lube drips down my crack and is fingered into my hole. I can't believe I never saw the other guy walk in. How could I? Lightheaded, my mouth full of cock and my arse in the air, music blaring. The Man's fingers in my hair, he pulls me off of him, smiling down as drool runs off my lips and down onto his cock. He offers me a snort of amyl, the sensation washing away shock to the feeling of being absorbed in the moment. Another pair of hands rub up and down my back before I feel a cock pressing into my lubed hole. I'm surprised and tight, closing even tighter with the surprise -- he's not deterred and I hear a grunt, and feel myself pushed open, as he presses in hard. He lubed me well, and isn't rough, but he its hard and large enough to make my eyes and mouth involuntarily open wide. I see The Man looking down at me smiling before he strokes my beard before looking down at his cock. I know what I'm here for so take him deep as the press from behind me keeps the beat. I feel both their hands meet on my shoulder, joined by interlocked fingers and both cocks filling me.
Its a new feeling, the Other Guy gripping my shoulders, as I work my mouth up and down The Man's shaft. I give myself to being used. My senses are almost overloaded. The music is still playing but I feel it more than hear it, a low grunt behind me and the repeated press of a cock into me, hips slapping against my arse cheeks keeping the beat.
The Man gets closer. He starts to thrust with his hips and I feel his cock twitch as he pulls my head down hard on him. I almost gag as his cock hits the back of my throat. The hot cum is next, pushed down my throat. He pulls me off, smiling, a drool of my spit and his cum drooling out of my mouth I swallow again, feeling the salt on my tongue, before I lick the last of the cum of his cock eye. The Man sits forward and kisses me, hard and long, his tongue darting in my mouth, clean cut face against my beard. He reaches for the amyl and offers me another hit before looking back up at The Other Guy. "Now take it."
I have to push back with my arms before I'm driven forward as The Other Guy slams into me harder and faster. I imagine his cock like a piledriver, pounding my arse. Between my rough breaths I focus on tightening my arse around his cock and get a satisfying groan in return. His grunt competes with the music as I feel him pull out and feel the hot wet cum hit my back and arse. I look up at The Man who's smiling down at me. "It's going to be a long night for you, slut." I smile back, ready to take whatever they can give.