It was a quiet night, at least until I rolled into the campground. Crickets could be heard by everyone, and the lulling swash of water from the Yakima river covered all other noise that campers might normally make during the course of the night: getting up to piss, coughing due to the moisture, or sneezing from the pollen. All was quiet at the KOA in Ellensburg.
It had been a great night so far, a performance by some very talented drag queens followed by a small but boisterous party at a friend's dormitory room. I wasn't staying on campus, having reached an age where I felt like crashing on someone's dormitory floor or flopping on their couch was beneath me. Besides, I wasn't even in college anymore, having graduated the previous Spring with an English degree from a rival school. I was twenty-four years old, on the verge of twenty-five, and there wasn't any way in the world I was going to stay at someone's place with whom I wasn't sleeping. I was just visiting friends and figured, as long as I was staying in town, why not get out my old pup tent and sleeping bag and "rough it" in the safest way possible. Enter my reservation at the KOA.
I rolled into the campground at about two, careful to turn off the headlights once I got past the registration office. Still, my Taurus is an older car, a '92, and it doesn't run as well as it should and is a very loud machine. I made my way as quickly as caution would allow toward my tent site at the far end of the campground and was surprised to see another tent set up in the site next to mine. There were very few campers on the grounds, it being a Wednesday night and Ellensburg not being a premier destination for anyone without some sort of connection to the community. When I had checked in, the clerk told me that there would likely not be anyone staying anywhere near me if I chose the far end of the campground. Still, there was someone right next to me, so I tried my best to be quiet as I pulled into the parking space directly in front of my tent and turned off my ignition. As I eased the door open it squealed sharply, as it has a tendency to do. Despite my best efforts with WD-40, I've never been able to get it open or closed without that shriek crying out and causing all nearby dogs to keen and yelp in surprise. Which is exactly what happened with the dog in the neighboring campsite.
The barking took me by such surprise that I screamed out quickly before clamping my hands over my mouth, a cry that cracked in mid-peal from my already-sore throat. I've never liked dogs much, especially big ones, and by the woof I heard I could tell that this one would probably cause me to shit myself if I had to come face-to-face with it. "Shut up!" came a cry from the tent, and I could hear motion inside, someone turning over. I couldn't tell whether the direction was for the dog or for myself, so, figuring I'd be polite, I hollered, "Sorry," in a weak whisper, hoping to save what little of my voice hadn't been spent in yelling out to encourage the drag queens on stage.
I made my way across the grounds to the tent I'd had the foresight to put up when I'd rolled into town that afternoon. I'm not sure I could have managed to do it at night. Don't get me wrong, my eyesight is good and everything, but I had only the moon to illuminate things, having forgotten my flashlight at home, and I'm not the most coordinated person in the world. Which sort of explains how I tripped over a log that I swear hadn't been there when I set up the campsite that afternoon and fell to the ground with a crash and a humph of air rushing out of my lungs. I lay there for a second, trying desperately to inhale, my lungs burning. Eventually I drew in a breath and coughed, the fire in my lungs persistent but diminishing. "Shut up!" the guy from the next tent hollered again, and there was no mistaking this time to whom he was speaking. Again, I yelled my apologies, refraining from explaining my noisiness and opting for making as little noise as possible while honoring his request.
I slipped off my sneakers and then my socks, placing the appropriate sock in each shoe and then laying them on the picnic table next to my tent. Next I took off my shirt, which was pretty soaked through with sweat from the dancing and grinding going on at the show, followed by the heat of the small room where the party was held, and folded it in half, laying it over the shoes. I unbuckled the belt of my jeans, sliding them and my briefs off in one motion, folding the jeans into thirds with the underwear still inside. I've worn briefs since as long as I can remember, and used to get teased about it in high school, but there's something about the way a good brief cradles your balls, almost like someone is always handling them for you. The ones I wore that night were lime green with white piping, and I loved the way they made my package look once I had my jeans off.
The wind tickled my hairless scrotum as I made my way toward the tent, seeming to touch them ever-so-lightly, causing my cock to plump up a bit. I bent over to unzip the opening, letting the cool breeze that had been caressing my balls flow through my spread thighs and whisper across my asshole. As I was starting to climb in, I realized I had to piss. It's been a recurring problem throughout my life that I've got the smallest bladder among any group of which I am a member. I thought I'd emptied my bladder at the party, and hadn't had anything to drink for the last hour of it, but nonetheless here was the pressure demanding immediate release.
The bathrooms at the campground are all the way at the entrance, probably only 1000 feet away, but farther than I like to wander in the nude. Anyway, they were quite well lit, and I didn't feel it would be appropriate to expose my body to anyone who happened to be awake at that hour to use the john. There was never any question about whether I was going to put my clothes back on; way too much work. The river was near and convenient, so I made my way over the some bushes by the river and let loose my stream, a hard piss that splattered on the leaves, nearly driving a hole through some of the weaker ones, newly formed in the Spring.
As the last of the piss left my body, I let out a moan and looked down at the dribbles coming from my cock. Smiling to myself, I gave the old boy a couple of jerks and got him to come to life. I don't have the biggest cock in the world, but I've got a good five and a half inches that's plump and, I've been told, quite succulent. I used to try to give myself head when I was younger, but I was either not flexible enough or not long enough, or probably both, because I couldn't even get close. Still, trying had been fun, and I wasn't ashamed of my body in the slightest. 10 hours a week at the gym had left me with a body that wasn't exactly ripped, but which at 160 lbs was definitely muscled, with only a thin layer of fat over it. Honestly, I thought the fat added a softness to my physique that I found attractive, and I've never had any complaints from the boys I've seen about it either. Shaking it one last time for good measure, I decided it was time to get to bed.
Having emptied my bladder, I wove my way back to the tent and laid down on my sleeping bag, not bothering to climb inside. The bag was an old one, down feathers with a flannel lining that was way too warm for a night in June in Ellensburg, WA. I had brought it not to sleep in, but rather to sleep on, as it provided a nice cushion for the otherwise hard ground. I zipped up my tent and lay down on my stomach, hugging the pillow I had brought from home. I don't know about you, but a good pillow is absolutely indispensable for my getting a good night's rest.
As I lay there, my mind drifted back to the events of the night, to the queens lip-synching their hearts out, to the boys grinding their crotches against one another, to the guy who had come up behind me while I was dancing and grabbed my nipples through my shirt and whispered in my ear, "How are you enjoying the show, baby?" I had reciprocated by pushing my ass into his crotch and grinding it there, grabbing hold of his fingers which had claimed my nipples and twisted them in opposite directions. I felt his hard cock through his basketball shorts, even through the denim of my jeans, and turned my face around, closed my eyes, and kissed him full on the mouth, our tongues meeting and warring over control of each other's oral space.
Unfortunately, the closest we came to actual intimate contact was during a performance of "I Will Survive," when we were dancing close, face-to-face, and his hand snuck down to my zipper, pulled it down, and swept into my pants in about three seconds. He got a good grasp of the rock-hard bulge in my briefs and then pulled me in for another passionate kiss, during which time my hand reached into the band of his basketball shorts. I was unsurprised that he wasn't wearing any underwear, as many of my friends insist that commando is the only way to go, plus there had seemed very little barrier between it and my ass when he had ground it into me. But it seemed a bold move when wearing something which would so obviously show off whether the wearer had a hard on or not. My fingers twined through his pubic hair, bypassing his hard cock completely, and cupping his eggs into my hand, then twirling them around like Chinese Ben-Wa balls. This went on for only a couple of seconds before his face contorted into the primal face for pleasure and pain and I ended up with a sticky mess all over my forearm which necessitated a trip to the bathroom to clean up.
I laughed softly into the pillow, thinking about the boy's stammered apologies, how he had followed me into the bathroom, about how he had written his number on my arm after I had washed it off, insisting that this sort of thing never happened to him, it was just that I was so hot and he was so worked up by the crowd. He's included his name in the apologies, and wrote it down next to his number, "Chris." Who knows? It might even be true. I wondered whether the boy had realized that he'd written his number right where his cum had been washed off a few moments prior. I wondered whether I trusted him enough to give him a call the next day and see about getting together for a rematch. He'd been all kinds of hot, dark features with bright blue eyes that had pierced me every time I met them, with an older face, but obviously still in his early twenties. Still, I was supposed to be seeing friends, not arranging hookups.
Thinking about his body and cock gave a second life to the bone I'd been sporting earlier in the night, now pressed uncomfortably into the sleeping bag, no longer such a wonderful cushion against the hard, unforgiving ground. I rolled off my stomach and began masturbating with my right hand. I've always been ambidextrous, and in no way more so that in my masturbation habits. I'd long ago figured out a good routine for which hand would do what and when, and tonight it was old Righty's turn for a dry masturbation, my thumb on the "top" side of my thick dick while my fingers grazed the underside close to the head. Thinking back on the boy, on his fleshy five inches, I couldn't help but moan out a little, adding to the usual noise of skin on skin and the shallow breathing which always accompanied self-pleasure for me. I reached my left hand up toward my mouth, slipping my index and middle finger inside, getting them sloppy with my saliva. I moved my slippery fingers down my chest, past my abs and genitals, sliding them along my peritoneum until they slipped between the hemispheres of my ass. Carefully, I probed by hole, the wetness of my saliva felling cool against my pucker as my legs spread apart in anticipation of being penetrated. I imagined what Chris and I might be doing even this very moment if he had not accidentally come, and that thought opened me up completely. My index and middle fingers popped simultaneously into my ass, sliding up and past the sphincter muscle with ease.
My moaning must have escalated past the low murmuring I imagined, because I was nearly done when I heard the singular sound of an unzipping tent beside me and a baritone bellow, "For fuck's sake, shut up!"
I had completely forgotten about the guy next door in all of my reminiscing about the night. I heard the slapping of bare feet against packed dirt, walking so fast it could almost have been considered a run, coming toward my tent. I saw the beam of a flashlight aim at my tent's flap, and heard the guy curse, then find the zipper. A second later my tent's flap was open and a hulking dark form was standing above me. I could barely see him due to the brightness of the flashlight, which must have had a few LEDs in it because it seemed brighter than the sun. I looked down at the light bathing my lithe body, down at my still-hard cock and at my hand which was still wrapped around it, with my fingers still planted two knuckles deep within my asshole.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the man shouted at me. I was too terrified to speak, so it came as no surprise when he repeated the question more loudly. I thanked whatever gods may be that there were no other campers too near us, and that the river was likely covering most of the noise.
"Please, sir, there's no need to shout."
"Like Hell there isn't! You've been doing nothing but making noise since you got here half an hour ago. My boy and I are trying to sleep, and here you are moaning like a bitch in heat and jerking off your cock at 2:30 in the morning." I heard some rustling from the tent next door and took it to be the man's son coming out to follow his father. Thankfully, by now the man had lowered his voice a bit, no longer shouting so much as talking sternly.
"I'm sorry my noise was keeping you up, sir." My cock was starting to deflate somewhat and I removed my hand from it, simultaneously plopping my fingers from out of my chute. Wiping my right hand on the sleeping bag, it being pretty covered in precum by this point, I raised my hand up and offered my name as a sign of peace. "I'm Nick, sir."
"Nick, huh? Name's Jessie, and my boy is Carlos. He's my step-son. What got you so hot and bothered you couldn't keep your hand off you penis at this ungodly hour?" I lowered my hand back down to my bag when it became apparent that he had no intention of shaking it. Jessie thankfully moved the light off of me and onto the tent itself, reflecting light back on him and his son. I could see the man was nearly nude now, wearing only a pair of plaid boxers, the kind without the button in the front that you can buy at Wal-Mart in a variety pack of five for four dollars. His chest was ripped and covered in hair that extended into a thick treasure trail leading to the band of his boxers. His face was probably clean-shaven the previous morning, but now there was plenty of stubble on it, giving him a slightly menacing look. His step-son was more dimly lit, standing back somewhat, over by where my clothes were arranged on the picnic table, but I could see clearly that he wasn't wearing a shirt, but was wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants that ended somewhere around mid-calf.
"Oh, just this guy I was dancing with at a party who couldn't deliver the goods I was looking for." I knew this was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left my mouth, but I couldn't put them back in there. Jessie's flashlight swung around to shine on Carlos, who covered his eyes and told his dad to not shine it in his eyes. The boy's voice was higher than his step-father's, but not by much, and was considerably deeper than my own. I don't have an unnaturally high voice or anything, but it's more a tenor and their voices were definitely bass. He spoke with a trace of an accent that implied that his mother was native to some Central American country.
Now illuminated, I could see that the boy way younger than myself, at least five years, though clearly he had gone through puberty. His mocha-brown chest was slightly hairy, forming a kind of "bird in flight" pattern flowing from his sternum out past his dark brown nipples crinkled and hard in the cold air. His arms were well-muscled, and his chest was well-defined. From what I could see of his calves, they looked to be in pretty good shape, too.
The flashlight came back around to me, shining in my face, then slowly working down my body until it ended on my hairless cock and balls. The guys I've slept with have always preferred the shorn look, and I'm willing to appease the masses, but right now with my cock no longer hard and these two men staring at me I felt like a little boy and knew I looked the part. Having stared at his son, my cock was a little plumper than it had been, but it still looked like a prepubescent boy's without any hair, at least to these two. I hoped my voice wouldn't crack like it had when I cried out earlier.
Jessie flashed the flashlight back at his tent, illuminating the area again, and said, "Carlos, go grab the lantern from the truck."
"Really, there's no need for the lantern," I said, hoping to defuse the situation, but Carlos was already on his way to the truck, and he had the door opened by the time I said, "Why don't we all just go back to bed?"
"And leave that cock of your unmilked? Or were you planning on jerking it off with your fingers in your ass and moaning some more before you go to bed?" A sudden light came on from the truck and I saw that the lantern Carlos had wasn't a gas lantern, but one of those Coleman ones that uses mirrors and light bulbs. Jessie switched off the flashlight, tossing it in the direction of his tent, and I noticed that the tip of his penis was poking out of the fly of his boxers as he did so. He was circumcised, it seemed, and from the tip it looked like he had a pretty thick cock. I couldn't get a good gauge on its length, of course, but the bulge in the boxers was considerable.
"Really it's fine," I said. "I don't have to masturbate tonight. We can all just go back to sleep." With that I reached up and grabbed the zipper of my tent and started to pull it shut. Jessie's hand darted out and caught my wrist, stopping its motion. His fingers flexed on my wrist sending a short, shooting pain up my arm and I whimpered a little. I hadn't noticed it before, but Jessie was quite a bit taller than myself, making his more heavily muscled arms and torso a whole lot more efficient. There was nary a trace of fat on his physique and he probably outweighed me by a good fifty pounds or so.
Using my own arm, Jessie pulled the zipper back, opening the flap of the tent. "No, no," he said calmly, "you need to get your needs met, obviously. And since you couldn't get your little boyfriend to do it for you, Carlos and I will be happy to help you out." With that he pulled upward on my arm, half-dragging, half-lifting me out of the tent. I looked down and saw now that almost his whole cock was poking out from his boxers, probably seven inches long and thicker even than it had seemed to be in its plump state. I stumbled and my bare chest slapped into his, his cocky poking right into my bellybutton. Using his other arm, he reached to my back and pulled me in tighter to his cock would grind into my abs.
"You and Carlos? Isn't he a little young?" I wasn't sure his age, and as a result of growing older I was having more and more trouble telling teenagers apart. He could well have been an early-developing fourteen for all I knew, though he looked more like he was 19. He had heavy muscles just like his step-father, which I took to mean they probably had a gym at home rather than a membership, and that the likely worked out together. Who know, maybe that's how they bonded well enough that fucking a complete stranger on a camping trip wouldn't weird the kid out. It became obvious that it didn't weird him out when I felt his presence behind me, gyrating his cock against my ass in much the same way that Chris had earlier, making me feel the boner beneath his cutoff shorts. Carlos was shorter than I was, so he had a good angle on my ass with his cock, and I could feel the tip of it thrusting slowly up and down my crack. His father's hands reached to my ass, pulling the globes apart, exposing my hole once more to the cool breeze. Carlos, however, was in no mood for waiting. He kicked my right ankle on the inside, causing my legs to part about a foot, and the return to his thrusting slowly. His cock was still trapped in his pants, and honestly it didn't feel like it was too large, but if he started fucking me now without no more lube than my by-now-dry saliva it was going to hurt. A lot.
"Don't worry about Carlos; he's a senior this year, about to graduate high school. He's legal." Whether this kid was legal was really the least of my worries, as I was pretty sure I was about to be fucked by these to whether I objected to it or not. Nonetheless, it was comforting knowing that I wouldn't be in any way culpable if this did happen. I wondered if it were possible to be charged with statutory rape when the victim was himself raped by the under-aged party? I doubted it, but I was glad I wouldn't have to worry about it.
Carlos's boner suddenly stopped its thrusting, and I hoped that he'd cum accidentally like Chris had, but I doubted it. Meanwhile, Jessie pushed me backward a little, releasing my arm. He cradled my chin instead, tipping my head back, and, as I was about to speak, beg them not to do this to me, his mouth hit mine, fully open, his tongue darting inside, groping against my limp tongue for purchase. His hand traveled from my back to my chest, trailing downward to my cock, which he took in his hand. Betraying me, as usual, my dick responded to his advances, becoming hard within three tugs, causing Jessie to chortle while still deeply tonguing me. He pulled away and smiled. "Someone's playing hard to get, but really likes this," he called over my shoulder to wherever Carlos was. I turned my head around to look for Carlos, and saw that he was digging through the tent he and his father shared.
"Like that's a surprise. Fucking fags love it when real men offer them their straight cocks for service."
"That's true, son," Jessie replied. "Speaking of which, get on your knees, faggot." I was too stunned to properly process the words that were being spoken to me. Sure, I was gay, but I've never been called faggot before, hard as it might be to believe. I'm pretty neutral in terms of homosexual affectations, and usually I have to hit on someone or tell them outright that I like dick. Unfortunately, I'd accidentally done exactly the latter with these two, not that finding me with my own fingers in my ass wasn't enough of a giveaway, and they were going to take full advantage of that. Noticing that I hadn't responded yet, Jessie's hand flew up, smacking me square in the right side of my face with its back. "I said kneel, faggot!"
Knowing there wasn't much else to be done, I knelt down, mentally preparing a speech which might get me out of this situation, but knowing in my head that there was really no way out. I wasn't given a chance even to speak before Jessie's cock hit my lips. He didn't even say anything, no orders, he just pushed against my lips with his cock and then, when my mouth didn't open, he grabbed the back of my head and exerted more force. My mouth flew open at the shock and Jessie's thick cock struck the back of my throat a second later, not bothering to stop, it slid in past my uvula and down into my throat. He must have been at least seven and a half inches long, and his cock when hard was thicker than my own. Still, knowing what I had to do, I tried to pull my head back and give him a proper blowjob. Apparently that wasn't what he was looking for.
Jessie kept his hand on my head as he moved his hips back, then slammed them back into position, his cock sliding down my throat again, causing me this time to gag. His hairy balls hit my chin solidly, connecting with my hairless face in a soft fwap noise. Again and again he pulled back and forth with his hips, shoving his cock in and out of my throat, but never leaving my mouth. I was trying desperately not to bite down on his dick, as I could tell that Jessie wasn't the type of guy who would take that well, even if it were accidental.
"Found it!" I heard Carlos call from over by there tent, and finally Jessie's cock plopped out of my mouth. He started moving the saliva-soaked member all across my face, pushing it into my eye socket at one point.
"That's great, son. Now get your ass over here." Jessie stopped moving his cock around my face as he turned his attention toward me. "Now that couldn't have been pleasant for you," he said, but then looked down. My cock was still standing at high attention. "Or maybe you did like it, you fucking queer. Either way, that's the kind of treatment you're going to get from me when you don't do what I tell you to do. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Jessie, we understand each other."
"No, we don't. Not yet. Names are for real men to use with one another. You're a faggot, and therefore not a real man, so you will call both me and Carlos sir' or master.' Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," I said, cringing on the inside as I said it.
"Good. Now, get up off the ground, boy." Slowly, I rose from my position on the ground. "You will be called either faggot' or boy.' If you are really, really good, I might even use your real name, but don't count on it."
"No, sir."
"Good boy. Now, Carlos's dick hasn't gotten sucked yet, and that seems a shame. After all, he's the one that found the lotion in the tent that we use for jerking off, which will be the lube you get for tonight. You should thank him for being such a caring master that he didn't just fuck you dry like you deserve."
"Thank you, master," I said, hoping that I was avoiding all of the sarcasm that my voice wanted to put into the phrase. Jesus, this was like a scene out of a bad porn film or something. How the fuck was I going to get out of this? Obviously, by this point, I wasn't.
I walked slowly over to Carlos, and placed my hand on his pecs. He was surprisingly hairy for a guy as young as he was, and that intimidated me. I have never had hair on my chest, and, as a result of regular shaving, I didn't have any under my arms or on my crotch or ass either. I ran my hand down the boy's torso, working my hand beneath the cutoffs and into the boxers below them. Grasping his cock, I jerked it a few times, plumping it up. I could feel the thick nest of hair surrounding the thing. It wasn't nearly as thick as his father's or my cock, but it wasn't terribly thin either. Length-wise, he seemed slightly smaller than his I was, probably five or five and a half inches.
I was about to drop to my knees again, when I felt Jessie's presence behind me. He took a firm grip on my hip with one hand and bent me over with the other. I used my hands to pull down Carlos's pants, revealing his smaller, uncircumcised cock in the lamplight. Slowly, I moved my mouth down on it, wondering how many blow jobs the kid had had before. Probably not many, I thought. He was only eighteen, after all, and I hadn't started blowing guys until my junior year of high school. He was probably even less experienced, unless his dad had managed to facilitate something, which was within the realm of possibility, of course, considering the current situation. I wondered how many times before they had acted out a scene like this one together, or whether this was Carlos's first time.
Carlos's cock was warm in my mouth, and I could feel his heartbeat with every jerk of his cock up and down on my tongue. I used my hand to slide his foreskin all the way back and then licked the tip of his cock. As I was doing this, Jessie had situated himself behind me, kneeling on the ground for some reason. Suddenly I felt a squirt of cold liquid hit my exposed asshole and I cried out ineffectually with Carlos's cock in my mouth. It came out as more of a groan, which must have been how Jessie interpreted it because he said conspiratorially to Carlos, "See? The bitch can't wait to get it inside her." Carlos laughed at this, his cock bobbing up and down with the heaves of his chest.
I reached up with one hand to Carlos's nipples as I was sucking him off. With him being the size he was, even if he started face-fucking me á la Jessie he wouldn't reach the back of my throat. I've got an impressively big mouth, both physically and socially, and it's garnered me many boons over the years, not the least of which is my ability to give a really good blowjob to most guys without having to fight my gag reflex the whole time. This allows me to spend more of my energy on my own pleasure, which I began doing, moving my hand to my cock and starting playing with the tip with my thumb, index, and middle finger, sliding the precum that was embarrassingly leaking from it down to the shaft.
Just then Jessie's hand moved to my ass, and his fingers clamped down inside my crack. I heard a squirt and felt the coolness of the lotion hit my asshole. With his middle finger he started massaging the lotion Carlos had fetched from the truck into my waiting chute. I pushed back a bit as his finger wormed up inside me, moaning slightly, and flicking my tongue excitedly on the underside of Carlos's cock. The kid was having the time of his life, and with his left hand he reached down and grabbed a hunk of my hair and pulled on it hard. I cried out on his cock, letting it slip from my mouth, and looked up at him. His face was twisted into a sadistic mask, and, using my hair as a puppeteer might, he moved my head back toward his slippery cock. His foreskin, I noticed, still covered most of the head of his cock when he was hard, so I started back on his cock by using my lips to pull back on his foreskin, being careful not to bite into it with my teeth, but giving it a good tug. He moaned at this, his five and a half inches obviously near its bursting point.
Jessie decided that he'd had enough of fucking me with only his middle finger, so he added another to the mix, not bothering to slowly insert it like he had with the first one, jamming inside me all at once. I cried out a bit, squealing almost, a high-pitched whine escaping from my throat. Jessie laughed at this, and began moving his digits in and out of my hole. "You like that bitch, don't you?"
I swung my head off of Carlos's cock once again, replying, "Yes, sir, I like it a lot. I can't wait to get yours and Carlos's cocks inside me, sir." I went immediately back to the cock before me, not wanting to be accused of slacking on my duties and enduring another face-fucking.
"Hear that, boy? He can't wait for your cock and cum." Jessie's fingers were by now moving with ease in and out of my sphincter, and it was not surprise when he added his ring finger to the mix. I cool feel the odd coolness of his wedding band as it passed by my pucker, which was by this point somewhat reluctant to stretch any farther. Still, I knew that it would have to before the night was over, as Jessie's cock, if it were going inside me, was thicker still than even three of his fingers. Hell, it was thicker than all four, but I had no doubts about its ultimate destination for the evening.
As I endured the assault on my ass from Jessie's left hand, his right hand had snaked its way between my legs, caressing my balls, gently at first, but then with greater passion and violence until, by the time he got his pinky inside my ass alongside his other fingers, he was basically just twisting them there. The weird thing was that my cock had remained rock hard the whole time, and precum was flowing more freely now than it had ever done before. I was frantically jerking my meat the whole time now, jerking my cock with my left hand and leaning against Carlos's hips with my right.
"I think the bitch is about ready, boy. You wanna go first and break her in?"
I looked up as Carlos grinned a Cheshire grim, a glint in his eyes like diamond. "Sure thing, dad. Put him up on the picnic table."
And with that I was lifted off the ground and heaved over Jessie's shoulder. He walked over to the table where I had neatly arranged my clothes and grabbed my jeans with his free hand, laying them out across the cool wood so the pant legs extended over the side of the table. With surprising gentleness, he grabbed my torso and lay me down over the jeans, making sure my ass was barely on and putting his free arm on my shoulder so the greater weight of my thighs and legs wouldn't drag me off. This seemed a gentle act, at least until I remember Carlos, which happened as he grabbed my right leg and positioned it on his shoulder, and then mirrored the motion with my left leg.
"You sure you don't want to go first, dad? I don't mind sloppy seconds." This was, of course, a mere formality it seemed, since junior was already lining up his teenage cock with my asshole. The head of it was fully inside me by the time his dad politely declined and climbed up on the table, straddling my face.
"No, son. Go ahead. She's gonna need all the loosening up she can get to take this piece."
Carlos's cock wasn't terribly big, but it was more than enough to make me feel filled up. I could feel his pubic hair brushing up against me, then the familiar slap of testicles against my ass, meaning that he had managed to go fully to the hilt into my hole without having to allow me to adjust to it. Still, his cock was more than adequate, as it was pressing hard against my prostate, forcing more precum to juice out of my own cockhead. While Carlos was busy plundering my boycunt, his father lined up his slab of meat to re-assault my throat...
(To be continued)
Thanks for reading my story. If you want to give me any feedback, I welcome all responses at my email: chubbyslutforyouruse@gmail.com. I'm also interested in talking with guys on the phone or online and seeing where new ideas for stories might come from. I hope you've enjoyed the story and look forward to hearing from those of you who respond.