Paul hesitated. Jim’s smile faded as I held his gaze, and a hard light began glinting in his eye. I pressed my weight into his biceps, pressing his shoulders against the wall behind the bed. “Do it,” Jim said to Paul, and stretched his arms out towards the posts.
Paul started to
leave enough play in the rope for Jim to bring his hand forward toward Paul’s
arm as he worked. “Tighter,” I said, and took up the slack myself while he tied
the knots. I grabbed Paul by the back of the neck and the base of his dick at
once, planting a deep, sloppy kiss in his mouth, then whispering in his ear,
loudly enough for Jim to hear, “He likes it rough, and I want to see you give
it to him.” Hearing me, an expression of wolfish hunger spread over Jim’s face.
“Look at him,” I said to Paul. “He wants it bad.”
Paul leaned forward
to force-feed Jim his cock, which had risen impressively to the occasion. Jim
started to gag and the muscles in his arms strained against the rope as Paul
pushed in the last inches, then slowly withdrew and plunged again.
“Take it, cocksucker,”
I muttered to Jim, my arm around Paul’s tight, lean waist, my own cock wrapped
in my other hand a foot from Jim’s right cheek. Paul hesitated, then settled
his weight onto the headboard to do pushups in and out of Jim’s mouth. Jim’s
gag subsided, replaced by a muffled grunt each time Paul withdrew, just before
the next thrust. Watching Paul’s triceps pump in unison with the
roll of muscles in Jim’s neck and arms, I couldn’t hold back. My load sprayed
over my lover’s cheek and forehead. Paul slowed his pumping, withdrew, wiped up
a few pearl droplets with his fingertips, and thrust them into Jim’s mouth.
“OK, what else does
this big whore want?” Paul asked, riffing on Jim’s greed as he slurped.
“It sounds like he’s
already had his hole stretched out,” I said. “I’d say you should find out just
how far.”
“Is that right?”
Paul said, leaning down to plant a kiss between Jim’s eyebrows, then waving his
erection again in Jim’s face. “You want this piece up your backside where you
had one last night?”
“I’m already ragged,
you bastard,” Jim spat out. “Yeah, I want it again.”
“OK, let’s see what
that guy did to get you ready,” Paul said, throwing both Jim’s legs over his
right shoulder, licking the knotted muscles at the join of his hip and ass and
spreading the cheeks open with the prying fingers of both hands. I’d never seen
Jim like this before. The dark pink striations of his pucker were like a cherry
bitten in half. Paul laid the flat of a fingertip quietly on it, bent down to
drool saliva into the depression, then traced his finger out from the centre
out as if along the spokes of a perfect wheel, while his thumbs dug deeply into
Jim’s hard glutes. As Paul slipped his index finger into him and twisted it,
Jim started to writhe, then raised up, straining against the ropes to snarl,
“You fucking pansy. You’re not man enough for it.”
Paul snapped his
face up to meet Jim’s gaze and froze, his finger still planted up his ass. “No,
you don’t think so?” he asked. His arm went up, and the palm of his hand came
back down on the dome of Jim’s buttock with a resounding smack. “I guess you’ll
let me know when you’re convinced.” To me he said, “I need lube, and a condom.”
He went back to the work of slamming his palm rhythmically onto Jim’s backside.
I reached over to
the bottle where it lay tipped over on the night table and opened the drawer
below.
“Grease him up for
me,” Paul ordered.
When I’d drizzled a
stream of the lube into Jim’s crack, Paul began burrowing further in, two of
his fingers soon buried up to the last knuckle, palm up. Uninitiated as I was,
I knew that inside he was curving the tips up to search out Jim's prostate.
“These ought to help
keep him in line,” I offered, holding up two clips on a chain. I’d never seen
them on Jim, only heard his satisfied reports of one of his über-daddies
putting them to use.
“Snap them on,” Paul
said. “I’m busy back here.”
When I hesitated,
Jim turned his attention to me. Paul’s rhythmical slaps stopped. “Pinch the
skin behind the nipple so you can get some purchase,” Jim told me, half
directive, half pleading.
When I’d snapped
both clamps into place, a red grimace of stifled agony spread over his face. I
looked back to Paul to find four fingers of his hand coned into Jim’s opening
chute, his thumb massaging the perineum just forward of the opening hole. Jim’s
cock stood against his belly, rock hard and straining up towards his navel
“So who’s in charge
here, mack?” Paul demanded.
Jim spat at him.
Paul reached out the hand that wasn’t wedged in his ass to slap his face. Not
hard, almost playfully. “We’re going nowhere till you get this right. Who’s in
charge?”
Suddenly, the stress
in Jim’s face vanished, and he collapsed back into the pillows. “You are.”
“You sure about
that?”
Jim just nodded in
reply.
“Good boy,” Paul
whispered. To me he said, “Why don’t you jack him a little so he knows we’re
happy with him?” Jim whimpered as I poured lube over his shaft and began to
stroke. For a few minutes, I just continued with an easy, long rhythm. Jim
began sobbing, “Please don’t stop.”
“Now we’re back to
having to talk logistics,” Paul said, leaning forward, speaking gently. “I know
you need a good pounding. Which takes thigh muscles that, as we can all plainly
see, I don’t have. But I bet a slut like you would sit right down on me in one
go.”
“Or maybe I’ve got
something to offer here,” I said.
Paul reached behind
him to hand me the condom I’d dropped on the sheets. “No,” I said. “You’re
still going to do the fucking. I’m just going to provide a little backup power
behind you.” I tore the packet open and handled him back the rubber inside.
“Put it on and get into him.”
Jim’s defiance had
collapsed completely. He lay quiet, his hips undulating almost imperceptibly as
I held my fist loosely around his shaft, his eyes full of raw, unmediated,
wordless longing. Paul rolled the condom down over himself and caressed the
crack of Jim’s ass again with the flat of his fingertips. “I don’t know about
this, guy,” he said, hesitating again. “It may not be what you’re hoping for.”
“We’ll see,” I said,
moving around to straddle behind Paul, pressing my torso from crotch to chest
into his buttocks, back, and shoulders, Jim’s legs now hooked over Paul’s arms
to rest his heels on either side of my neck. I reached around Paul to grab Jim
by the top of his thighs. “Let’s see just how hard I can ram you into him.” I
slammed with my full weight, yanking on Jim’s thighs to pull him towards us as
I shoved my groin forward into Paul’s ass. Paul’s big hands were braced further
down, under Jim’s waist, pulling up at the same time. The lower half of Jim’s
torso lifted off the mattress with our pull and thrust, his shoulder and chest
muscles growing taut again as he strained against the ropes.
The rhythm turned as
even and as powerful as winter surf smashing into a beach. For maybe five or
ten minutes, the three of us together were the ocean, fucking the shore
forever. My spent dick thickened again, angling against Paul’s buttocks, then
slipping upright into the crack of his ass. I picked up the lube again,
streaming it down over the two of us, ramming the flat of my cock and the front
of my ballsac against him as I lent him strength to plow harder into the man I
loved.
Into the other man I
loved.
Then Paul’s leg
started to buckle where he knelt between us. Withdrawing his cock, he rolled to
the side, gasped, and stretched his right leg out frantically, then stood to
lean against the wall. “Shit,” he yelled. “Charlie horse.” He hobbled twice
around the room, then came back to the bed, chagrin and defeat in his face.
“Like I said,” he muttered, half to me, half to the man tied to the bed, “not
what you bargained on.”
“We’re not done
yet,” I said, and grabbed the largest of Jim’s four dildos from the night table
drawer, the ten-inch, thickly veined monster a former lover had bought him, as
big around as my wrist with a flaring head, modelled on some porn star I’d
never heard of. Slathering it with yet more lube, I handed it to Paul. “Ream
him out with this. I want to watch you stretch him.”
Paul slapped the
rubber club on Jim’s chest, then across his buttock a few times, then teased it
around the circumference of Jim’s stretched hole. I watched mesmerized as it
gradually disappeared into him, the handle of a churn into soft butter.
Withdrawing it an inch or two, Paul stretched his hand forward to cradle Jim
behind the neck, his gaze alternating between Jim’s face and the business of
filling him up. “That enough sausage for you yet?”
Jim twisted his neck
to suck Paul’s thumb into his mouth, whimpering, “I want it. I’m a fucking
whore and I want it. Shove it in some more. I need it all.”
Paul widened his
eyes as he held Jim’s gaze. “Yeah, that what you want? Are you my little whoreboy?”
Jim only nodded in
answer, and Paul withdrew the dildo half its length, then twisted it to the
side as he plunged it slowly but inexorably back in to the base. “Yeah, that’s
right, you take it. You’re my good little whore, you know that? You’re my good
little whore, and your guy here gets to watch you take it up the ass and see
just how big a slut you are.” Turning to me, he invited me into the scene. “Did
you know he was such a hungry piece of trash?”
“Yeah, I can see for
myself,” I said, astonished at Paul’s mastery of the moment, unable to match
it. All I could do was tug gingerly on the chain between the clamps that still
bit into Jim’s tits.
“OK, so now I’m
going to go on fucking this into you till you’re good and raw,” Paul said. “And
when I decide I’m going to let you cum, Timmy here is going to jack you off for
me. I hope you’ve got another load in you after last night, because I’m not
going to stop with this thing till we see you shoot. I want you to make it good
and thick for us. If we don’t see enough white stuff, maybe we’ll leave you
tied up here and try again later. But you’d probably like that.” To me he said,
“Start stroking him real slow. Make him beg us for it.”
I reached forward
and took hold of his cock backhanded, twisting up over the head, then squeezing
it as I slipped my curled fingers back down to the root and swirled up again.
It seemed to break Jim apart, and his whimpers started again. “I’m a good boy,”
he whined. “Good boys take it up the ass.”
He wasn’t the Jim I
knew and made love to at least once a week. And yet was. But then Paul wasn’t
the playful, confident, gentle man who’d caressed my cock into a full-spated
geyser while he’d kissed me deeply and gently a few hours earlier. And yet was.
Where the hell am I in this, I wondered, suddenly abstracted for the moment.
Who am I in this? I’m paralyzed at the sidelines while this man with barely
functioning legs tops my perfect daddy. And yet I’m the one who helped him
pound into Jim, handed him the dildo, put the clamps on Jim’s tits, in
fascination with every second of it.
I came back to
myself with Paul’s next direction to me, “OK, I think we’ve given him enough.
You know best how to get him off. He’s been a good boy. Let’s let him blow his
wad.”
I continued with the
same stroke, picking up the tempo, and massaging his balls loosely with the
palm of my other hand, the tips of two fingers pressing between his scrotum and
the dildo that, though motionless, still plugged Jim’s overtaxed backside.
Jim’s breathing quickened, and an arc of sperm coursed up out of him to rope
across the side of his neck and upper chest, followed by three more. By the end
of his run, Paul and I were both screaming hoarse encouragement at him.
“Now feed him his
load,” he said to me. “If he does a good job cleaning it up, we’ll untie him.”
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