This story is a work of pure fiction. A fantasy. This is not real life. None of the people involved are based on real life. Please don't do this in real life. Don't read this if you aren't 18 or over. Please practice safe sex.
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This is a little game we play to keep the fun alive. Public places. Tonight's the local park. Midnight. The festivities will end in one hot fuck or a criminal record. Either way, it's better to us than another night watching bad reruns. My skimpy shorts around my ankles. My ratty old jock strap framing my pale bubble butt. The smells of the public john assault my nose. Maybe good, maybe bad, definitely yanking my crank. I hear the crickets chirping and feel my cock leaking a steady drumbeat in my soiled athletic supporter.
Soon, soft fingers brush against my nipples. Those easily aroused, fleshy nubs. The size of silver dollars. Milk those and I'm your whore for life. My lover can spend hours worshipping my tits. Chewing, inflaming, suckling like a newborn pup. My moans to stop only encourage him further. Right now, I feel his hands. I want them. I want more. He pulls my shirt over my elbows, pushing my arms up, blocking my face. I can't see him. I don't want to.
Pablo's thick cock drills into me. My teeth graze my tank top, Pablo's coarse hands tugging at my hair, pushing my head against the cold bathroom wall. I can't see him, but I can feel him. He's hesitant, nervous, just for a moment. Half of his manhood loiters in my shitter. Not enough. Never enough. I push back.
"COME ON...fuck my white BITCH ass with your 'Rican meat!! Show me what a MAN you are!!!! Don't be a PUSSY!!!"
Crude, I know, but does the trick. Usually does. He slams deep, all the way home. My knees buckle and my prostate throbs in gratitude. His dirty nails are burning holes in my hips. I can feel his foreskin peeling back. His chest feels hairier than I remember, coarser. The sweat-drenched shirt muffles my screams. His big, burly meat hooks wrench my near-bursting jock pouch, setting up a long, painful, blissful milking process. His fingers roll my balls, tug my fat babymakers sharply in place every time I need reminding of who is in control. His thick stubble burns my smooth cheek...he shaved today, didn't he? The thought shatters when his fat digits clamp on the base of my 7 inches. My expert ass muscles clamp on his mammoth cherrybuster. I finally manage to slither out of my suffocating shirt, shoving my ass back on his monster. He responds with another mind-bending thrust, his fingers finding and tweaking my nipples. As I spurt a fresh load of pre-cum in my jock, I wonder what took him so long to remember those.
The first time I saw Pablo, I nearly fell off my chair...and right into his bulging crotch. Our eyes locked, my deep blue and his fiery brown. He rubbed the crotch of his painted-on leather pants. We left immediately. We've been pretty much inseparable since then...some parts of us more than others. My twinky, bitchy, sexy friend Ben was pissed off, of course, at least until the day I asked him over to get their insides handed to them by his deep-dicking slab of horseflesh. He wasn't complaining after that. Hell, he could barely even walk, much less talk.
Spanish curses assail my ears as frequently as his sharp teeth nip my dangling lobes. His breath is hot, reeks of alcohol. Wait, Pablo didn't drink any...
"Como se llama, BITCH?"
Oh shit this isn't Pablo. He doesn't even speak English. He snickers into the ear he just sampled, smooths his handiwork over with a very talented, devoted tongue. This is some stranger violating my ass and it feels so good, so wrong, so right, so bad. I feel sick and dirty and yet the load rips through my entire body, a lightning bolt of pure white cream splattering in my filthy jock while I get fucked by a man I have never even met. Why am I not begging him to get out of me. Why am I getting hard again. My revived prick gurgles in the fresh cock cream surrounding it. I can feel my second load in minutes beginning to churn when he finally explodes inside my violated ass. Volley after volley of his foreign fuck juice. He knows every part of me now. He has conquered me. As he pulls out, I whimper. I don't even know his name.
He turns me around to face him, this man. Ruggedly handsome, 6'5", even taller than Pablo. His veined dickmeat shines in the dim lighting, every inch covered in my juices. His teeth, crooked but not in the worst shape, grin at me. I shudder, and yet, my hands run across his rippling chest, tugging at the hair. I feel drawn to him as much as I am repulsed by him.
He helps me step out of my jock, giving my meat a rough tug as it slaps against my blonde treasure trail and tight abs. He fingers my navel as he covers his swarthy face in my jock. My semen, the sweat of my hard, shaking, chiseled inner thighs, trickles into his mouth, wafts into his nose. I pull him into a rough kiss, tasting myself on his thick beard.
I nearly bite his tongue off as I feel yet another tongue lapping at the seed steadily trickling from my bruised ass. The lips are so loving and experienced, and I know why.
"Pablooooo..." escapes me as a moan, while my chin and lips are bitten and kissed.
He stands up. Fully dressed. Smirking like the jackass that he is. He wipes his full fingers along the third man's wet club, putting them to his mouth to sample our combined cum. He yanks the older, burlier man in for a steamy makeout session that robs me of the power of speech or sensible thought. Next he grabs me. I couldn't resist even if I wanted to.
"So you've met Ricky here?"
"Ricky" swatted at my lover, but a devilish gleam burned in both their sets of dark eyes.
"It's Ricardo. Yeah, he's met me. Shit, you said he had the hottest pussy you'd fucked. You sure were right."
My confusion was only matched by my anger. Yet, my hardon would not go down. It got even bigger.
"You speak ENGLISH?"
"Si," he chuckled. "Have for a long time. I used to work for Pablo's parents. He taught me English. I taught him...lotsa other things, heh."
"It was just a joke, baby. Thought you'd like to have some fun, some surprises. Y'know? I'm sorry if you got pissed off, but I think you liked it. Some parts sure did."
As he gropes my crotch, their grins return. My second load flies onto their feet while my whole body quivers from humiliation and pleasure. God, sometimes I hate being a slut (usually, I love it). I guess they'd pulled quite a little joke over on me. Annoyed, I slip my shorts back on. Maybe I could play a few mind games too. I spit at their feet, the saliva landing beside my cum.
"You can keep the jock. You can keep him, too!"
I stormed off. If he didn't run after me, the relationship wasn't worth saving anyway. I could always stay with Ben, if he hadn't corralled the entire local baseball team to break his new bed in. Thankfully, Pablo's footsteps were right behind me, and Ricky's were as well.
I didn't fight when Pablo embraced me. His hands in my hair, my face against his large, hair-dusted pecs, feels so right. Always has. Always will. And Ricky's hands are on me too. He's nearly as almost-nekkid as I am, bulging out of his sticky cutoff shorts. Damn, the money I could make renting those 10 inches of his out. The reactions I'd get. That gives me an idea.
"Hey, lover. Think you can do me a favor?"
"Anything," he mutters as he kisses into my forehead. I buss his lips and squeeze both sets of fleshsticks in my hot little hands. My grin easily matches theirs.
"I think we should pay Ben a visit. His birthday is coming up in about a month, and I can't think of a better early present..."