[As always, comments and questions welcome. Don't feed the bears... put feed the pig bear's ego.]
Sorry, readers, for the lag between installments. I hadn't mentioned that I'd gotten ill in Germany; a couple of days of high fever and some intestinal issues, then it all settled down and a sinus infection persisted. I saw my doctor when I got home, and he treated the sinus infection, while taking rapid tests for some of the other candidates so, as he put it, "I could get my sex-club 'all-clear.'" I love my doctor.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, it was all back -- spiked fever, gut issues -- but this time I went to the ER, and they checked me into the hospital for a couple of days. It turned out to be a bacterial infection that can be transmitted through some sexually... but working the dates out, wasn't. Five days of antibiotics, and I'm open for business. Tell your friends. Tell strangers. And for heaven's sake, wash your hands!
Anyway, back at Lab. Our friends from Milan were just disengaging from their last plaything, and as I walked up, the making out began. It's hard to remember whose tongue was in my mouth first -- the hot, hairy dark-haired one, or the tanned, perfectly tribal-inked blond -- but things moved around quickly, coupling and recouping, then our mouths all together.
And the hands. Six hands, three cocks, three hot butts. I had one big, thick, hardening cock in each hand. Then, on my knees, one in hand, one down my throat. Making it clear when they were ready for me to switch. All the while, getting harder. The skullfucking boy from earlier in the night had my throat open good, and these two were definitely reaping the benefits. As they got harder, my thick spit covered their cocks, preparing for breeding. And my hole was already lubed with the first load of the night, and hungry.
The blond patted the cushioned fuck platform a couple of times. "On your back. Move forward." Legs up, hungry hole in position. Somehow, I'm tight. He takes care of that with a good probing and stretching, one finger, two. I'm moaning like a pig in heat, because, well, I am. Then he pulls the fingers out, and his dick slides in. And he rides. And rides. Not as hard or insistent in his strokes than others, but he's got a rhythm, and he owns my hole with it. He's kissing and making out with the boyfriend, then leaning over to do the same with me, then the boyfriend kisses me too. "Feels good, eh?" He knows. He's been in this position, with this hard, hot cock breeding him.
"Not yet." He pulls out slowly, helps me to my feet. We kiss again, all three of us, hands all over our now-sweatier bodies. "Taste." The blond pushes me to my knees. The only thing better -- so far -- than the taste of his cock is the taste of his cock fresh from my hole. The dark-haired one drops to his knees too, and we make out over his partner's cock, sharing it in and between our mouths, in my mouth with his tongue running down it, then in his with my tongue. Again, we stand, feel each other, kiss more.
As we go at it, another guy -- a hot kid, early 20s, got that Aryan Youth thing going -- comes by, gets down, first going from one cock to another, then -- he's been watching -- to my hole, now loose and slick. His tongue works in, and he eats it like it's his first meal in a week after crossing the desert. (And as far as holes to eat go, this is hardly the desert.) After a few minutes of his tongue in my hole, he gets to his feet, kisses each of us, and crosses the room to another guy who could be his just-older brother, then turns him around and over the platform, buries his face in Big Bro's hole, and strokes his dick hard. I know where it will be in a minute or two.
Tap, tap on the platform again. And I am quickly on my back again, legs open again, his cock in my hole again. This time, the dark-haired one is next to me, playing with my cock. As his boyfriend fucks again, he starts jacking on my dick. A few times, I slow him down -- not wanting to finish before the blond does. After a few more minutes, he leans over, kisses me, says, "Long day." Then he pulls out, puts two fingers in me again, and the dark-haired one sucks and jacks me until he gets the biggest load I've shot in a while.
And, of course, I stand, we all kiss, share my load. Because that's how we roll here in International Pig-Land.
We pull ourselves together -- which is mostly a rearranging of jocks and harnesses -- and make our way to the bar. It's two-for-one drinks night, so that's two rounds of two beers each for them, two rounds of two bottled waters each for me. We exchange names -- finally. Let's say the blond is Bernhard, the dark-haired one Felix. I thank them for not telling me their names sooner -- this way we could at least say the sex was anonymous. They laugh.
We talk about family -- one of them is that rare sort of guy who not only came out after he was married and his kid was mostly grown -- we know lots of those -- but who truly didn't figure out his story until then. Since I knew my story by the time I was 12 or 13, I say, I totally believe it, but can't imagine it. He says, that's OK, I couldn't imagine a lot of what we just did then, either.
Then we exchange contact information. And they say, if you're ever in Milan, you and your husband have a place to stay. As long as you like. We'll entertain you.
Yeah, they will.
And besides, he owes me a load. Or I owe him taking it. Or both -- everybody wins.