My job in Silicon Valley is lucrative but sometimes wearing. I had just spent several weeks of fourteen hour days on a rush project which, I don't mind saying, I completed beautifully. My boss thought so, too, and suggested that I take a few days off to recover. Better than that. our grateful client, whom I had got to know pretty well during those weeks, offered me the loan of his pass to what he described as a torrid swinger's resort down in the Central Valley. So I packed my Porsche with five day's supplies and headed south.
I was in no hurry and disliked the freeways. After getting out of town fast on 101 I turned east at Gilroy, and found a two-lane rural road heading south on which I could take my time. It was late afternoon, warm, fairly dry. I was driving slowly, feeling sleepy, when I saw some distance away a car had pulled over on the shoulder of this long, straight road. It immediately evoked one of my fantasies. I would stop to help a disabled vehicle. The driver would be a beautiful, sex-starved Hollywood model. I would easily fix the car's problem and she would insist on thanking me in a room at the nearest motel, where she lay naked on a bed, spread legs showing a soft, wet pussy.
I slowed. As I approached, I saw a man in the driver's seat. The fantasy was neatly replaced by the vision of a handsome, sex-starved Hollywood stud, lying naked on a bed, spread legs topped by a stiff, wet prick. I have certain requirements for sex partners, but gender doesn't happen to be one of them.
However, this one wasn't asking for help. He was lying back in his seat, eyes closed, white shirt and red tie bright in the afternoon sun, just taking a nap, I thought. I drove on, and half a mile farther saw a reason for the stopped car. Another guy, also wearing a white shirt but no tie, was trudging along the road carrying a small red gas can. I came to a stop and asked if he could use help. He certainly could, he said, and got in. He told me that there was a gas station about a mile ahead in the hamlet of Florita, and that he was exceedingly grateful to me for stopping for him. He was a good-looking guy, a little older than me, thin but fit although his shirt was wet with sweat. He went on some about how embarassed he was that he and his friend had run out of gas on their way home from work in Fresno. I assured him that it was no reflection on them and asked how he would bring the gas back to their car.
"I hope they'll give me a ride back there", he said.
" 'Hope' ?" I inquired.
"Well, they don't like us much here...in fact, these people are awful. They are so narrow. We bought this charming little house a year ago, and as soon as the people in town saw it was two men living together, we were on the shit list. They give us a hard time at the gas station and I don't know whether they'll give me a lift."
"Don't worry about it," I said. I'll be happy to take you back."
"Oh, that's wonderful," he answered. "You're so kind!"
I didn't need much gay radar to perceive my companion's gender preferences. When we pulled into the station I asked him if he'd like me to fill his gas can. He seemed relieved, handed me some bills, and I filled the can and paid for it. The attendant, a soiled adolescent, stared at him in my car and stared at me, taking the money and making change without a smile or a word.
Starting back I said, "I think I see what you mean. That kid looked at us like we were scum."
"Well, you're not," he replied, putting his hand on my arm for a minute. "I am so grateful."
When we got back to his car we all introduced outselves. He was Ronald and his friend in the car, who looked a lot like him, was Frank. They were lavish in their thanks and finally asked me, since I was heading in that direction, if I would stop at their house and accept the reward of a drink, or something. I accepted.
We stopped at the gas station while they filled their tank. Fortunately it was self service and they paid by credit card, under the stony gaze of the scruffy attendant staring at us through a dirty station window. I followed them down the road and on a dusty side street to an isolated small house, shiny in white paint and surrounded by carefully tended beds of flowers. We parked and they ushered me in.
The sun was low, brightening the closed drapes of a good-sized living room, furnished with a big couch, easy chairs and little tables, a desk, pillows everywhere, and, just inside the door, a small statue. The walls were crowded with bright, abstract paintings; the place had the air of a home truly cared for by the people who lived there. The statue was great. It was a miniature reproduction of Michelangelo's David, the sculpture of a very pretty boy whose original had caused an uproar in Victorian times because of its nakedness, complete with a finely detailed penis hanging down. This reproduction had one difference: the penis was not hanging down. It stood out long and stiff.
Ronald excused himself to take a shower after his sweaty walk on the road. I was invited to sit in a comfortable chair, asked my choice of drink, and was given a good-sized glass of excellent scotch, on the rocks. I expressed my admiration of their garden and the inviting room we sat in, Frank told me about some of its interesting decorations conspicuously avoiding the statue of David. Ron returned, wearing only a light bathrobe. When he sat down the bathrobe splayed open and I could see his shadowed prick. He seemed unconsious of the exposure, but I doubted that. Anyway, we exchanged information about our occupations; they were designers for Modest Modes, a women's wear plant in Fresno. Finally Frank said, "We're so grateful to you. Is there anything at all we could do for you?"
I hesitated, then thinking, let's go for it!, said: "Well, there's something I'd like that requires two other men ... it's a sex fantasy."
Frank's face brightened, he smiled, said "Yes?"
"One of them fucks me in the mouth while the other sucks me off."
He smiled wider and looked at Ronald. I didn't see a signal pass between them, but he answered, saying "I think we could handle that." He paused. "Why don't we finish our drinks and then take off our clothes. You'll notice we keep it nice and warm here."
"Wonderful!" I said. I took my glass, tilted it up, and in several long swallows drained it. I stood up. They looked at me for a moment, then took their own glasses and emptied them. They got up. Ron shrugged off his bathrobe and stood there naked -- with an erection beginning. All I could focus on for a bit was his prick, much like mine: cut, plenty long and not too thick, a lovely pink. Then Frank and I worked fast on shoelaces belts, zippers and buttons, and in a minute we were all naked. They both had good, lean bodies, and Frank's prick was just as nice as Ron's; mouth-watering. Mine was standing straight out and tingling. Frank wrapped his hand around it, pulled a few times, and said "Nice! Let's take these to the bedroom."
Just off the living room was a big room with an enormous bed with an ornate, carved dark headboard. The art on the walls here was not abstract at all. There were six or seven life-size posters and a couple oils. They were all front or side views of naked men with big, erect, penises. One was jacking off. I admired them while Frank found three thick pillows and stacked them against the headboard, telling me to climb up. I lay on the bed, the pillows supporting my chest and head, my legs spread, my prick standing straight up, quivering.
"Who should do which?" Frank asked. "Whatever suits you two," I replied, "you both look so good." "All right," he answered, "I'll take the top. That all right with you, Ron?" he asked. "Just fine," he answered, "I'm going to love this."
I raised my arms as Frank, thighs widespread, straddled my chest with his knees near my armpits. He put his hands on the headboard and leaned forward. His prick was perfectly angled and an inch from my mouth. I wet my lips well, formed them into a little O, put my hands on his ass cheeks and pulled him toward me. His prick slid slowly and deliciously in. As its head passed my lips I pressed my tongue underneath and wiggled it. He responded with a pleased groan.
Meanwhile Ron, kneeling between my outstretched legs, had encircled my glans with his warm mouth and was sliding up and down just behind the corona, exciting me intensely. Frank began rocking slowly back and forth while my lips and tongue worked on him; in, barely touching the back of my throat, and out until his corona met my lips. Ron paused in his sliding from time to time to lock his lips just behind the head and move his head from side to side.
It was wonderful. I had to do nothing but keep my mouth on Frank's sweet prick as he slid in and out, and savor Ron's ministration to mine. I lost all track of time; I wanted these beautiful, liquid sensations to go on forever. But the pleasure was building fantastically. Frank started moving faster, then jerkily, and suddenly let out a suppressed, high-pitched groan, and his fluid streamed from his prick into my mouth. As I swallowed, I felt my own sperm come up and enormous pleasure surge through my whole body. I barely managed to avoid biting Franks softening cock, but sucked on it hard as I shot into Ron's mouth. I stayed with Frank until he was totally soft. Disengaging, he moved down until our heads were together and kissed me on the mouth, probing it with his tongue while Ron sucked everything he could get from my soft dick.
The three of us stretched out on the bed. I felt glowing with satisfaction, Frank looked very pleased, and Ron, too, looked content, although his smooth prick was standing stiffly from his body. "You are very good," said Frank. "You're both great," I answered, and I must reward Ron." I reached out, put my hand around his prick, bent down and slid my mouth over the head. Frank said, "Why don't we just do it again, with our positions switched?" "That would be fine with me," I answered, disengaging, "but I'm not going to come again. That was just too good." "Don't be so sure," said Frank. "Never underestimate the power of a gay cocksucker." So I resumed my place on the bed, head supported by the pillows.
Frank went to the nearby dresser and unscrewed the top of a large jar. He inserted two fingers of his right hand, which glistened when he withdrew them. He came back to me and said, "Raise your knees." My legs were already spread wide, but I did as he said, and felt a finger between my ass cheeks, sliding into my asshole. Then Ron straddled me and brought his rod to my mouth. I put my hands on his ass, rounded my lips, and pulled him in. Frank's finger slid slowly in and out a few times. It was mighty interesting.
I dealt with Ron's prick just as I had with Frank's, and he relished it. It was sweet to have it there and I didn't have to think much about it; the job was automatic now. I was able to pay attention to what Frank was doing, and it was marvelous. He put his mouth on the end of my limp prick and just sucked it slowly in; then, keeping his lips tight, he pushed it out with his tongue. He did that again and again, and it felt very good -- my prick was coming to life once more, aided by the sensations his finger in my ass was providing.
Meanwhile Ron started really fucking my mouth, shouted something, and jetted his come into my throat. My own prick had got hard with Frank's treatment, and waves of pleasure were rising as I sucked Ron dry and released him. He got off my chest, moved down low beside me, placed his mouth on my right nipple and began licking it.
The sensation in my groin was growing incredibly, heightened by the sensations from my chest and my anus. Suddenly my body jerked, I spasmed, my vision dimmed, and I had a long, gloriously intense orgasm that nearly knocked me out. This one differed from the first. It came from deep inside and seemed to bring up everything that was in me.
As I slowly recovered I told Frank that it was the best I'd ever had and that he was a genius. "I love him," said Ron. "He can make me come all day." "Ron can do that, too," said Frank. "And at sixty-nine...oh, it's just heaven. Sometimes we fuck, but oral is the best. Isn't that right, Ron?" "Yes, darling," he answered, and I heartily agreed.
Eventually we returned to the living room and got dressed. They insisted on another round of drinks and asked me to stay for dinner. It was getting dark and I said I had be getting on to find a motel; they urged me to stay the night. and I agreed. They prepared a fine meal in their little kitchen. We chatted for a while after that: about my work, about theirs, and about their favorite gay hangouts in the Central Valley. Then we went to bed -- their bed, with me in the middle, chaste save for someone's hand wrapped lazily around my prick.
An alarm clock woke us in the morning. Frank got right up, saying that it was his turn to make breakfast. I wasn't surprised to find that I had a hardon. I went to the bathroom and, with some difficulty, emptied my bladder through it. It didn't go away. When I came out Ron said, "Hold on to that!", had a short spell at the toilet, and came back to the bed where I was lying naked on my back. "Lovely," he said, and lay beside me. Our hands went to each other's pricks, and his stiffened as I stroked it.
"Let's suck each other," I said. Ron spun around and so our pricks faced each other's mouths. I moistened my lips and took him as he did me. His free arm went around me and his hand was in my ass crack, a finger probing my asshole, which tingled. His warm prick fit my mouth perfectly, and I tightened my lips on his shaft and began moving on it. The one nuisance about sixty-nine, which really is the finest thing two men can do, is that your tongue is on the top side of his penis instead of the more sensitive underside, so you depend mostly on your lips. I clamped mine just behind the head and made little motions up and down. He was doing the same to me; we cooperated beautifully, and the pleasure built fast. In a short time we were both moving as quickly as we could and, just as my orgasm began, I felt his sperm spurt into my mouth. We shared ecstasy at almost the same moment. Our pricks softened together, and we both extracted out the other's last drops.
When I opened my eyes I saw Frank by the bed looking at us. He was still naked, and his prick was standing straight out. "That's the most beautiful sight on earth," he said.
Damn, I thought, he's attractive. "I'm looking at another, Frank," I told him, sliding off the bed onto my knees and reaching for him. "Oh, no," he said, at the same time stepping close so that his prick was inches from my mouth. Putting my hands on his buttocks I pulled him to me and let his prick slide into my mouth, already lubricated with Ron's sperm. I stroked its underside with my tongue. As I worked on it Ron got up. I saw him pick up the jar on the dresser and scoop up lubricant with a long finger. He moved behind Frank and I could feel his hand separate Frank's ass cheeks, where I was sure that finger went right up into Frank. His brought his other hand around to Frank's chest and started rubbing his nipples. Frank had his hands on my head, urging it back and forth, and in a very short time let out a strangled groan as his prick jerked and his come flowed generously into my mouth and down my throat. I sucked him dry.
After we all cleaned up we ate, nude, the breakfast Frank had prepared, with some corny jokes about my not needing any breakfast juice. Reluctantly we all got dressed again. They made sure that I had their address and telephone number and promised me that I would be welcome any time. They escorted me to my car and got into theirs to go to work. When I reached the highway I stopped and took careful note of landmarks. I wanted to be sure I could find my way back.