Asylum

The summer wore on. The job search continued. There were days I drove Ahmed to interviews in Hartford, in Providence. He wanted to stay in New England. And his desire to stay close increased as did my hope he would stay close. The car trips gave us time together to talk, to find places to kiss… to fuck. I, we, seemed to be wild to have sex. And we were not always as discrete as we should have been. At least no one I knew had seen us together. My guess it was obvious that we were two men “in relationship.”

“How long do you think Ahmed will be with us?” My wife and I were by sitting by the pool in our swimming suits on a hot August day. She had to work the next day, filling in all day at the library. I was planning to take Ahmed to Providence for two interviews.

“I don’t know. The job search is ongoing. More difficult than we had expected. Why do you ask?”

“I just hope he is happy, feeling like this is a good place for him. He really seems to have only you as a friend, and us for companions.”

“We’ll ask him when he comes to join us for cocktails.”

“O.K.”

I got up, sure I wanted Ahmed, I wanted his cock. But, while there had been no sex in the marriage for a long time, why not? I got up. Dropped down behind my wife’s chair. I put my hands on her shoulders.

“That is nice,” she said.

I took that for a hint, and slowly moved my arms around her, my hands down her arms.

“Bob, please…”

I took that as a positive. I moved my hands on breasts. Her breasts.

“Stop. Please stop. Not now.”

The usual rebuff.

I asked, “later?”

She responded, “Maybe.”

I had pulled my hands away.

“O.K.”

That meant – no sex.

“O.K. It is such a bright sun. Let’s strip and go for a swim.”

“No.”

“Because of Ahmed being here?”

“No, just not interested. You know I am past that.”

“I know. Just checking.”

“Yeah.”

So, I went back to my seat. Took the message to heart. Knew that it was the reality. Was glad that I found out my homosexuality. That I had found Ahmed.

A half hour passed, mostly in silence. Then, around 5, Ahmed came out to join us. Shorts and a T-shirt. Handsome. I so loved what the clothes hid. The wife had no clue. And if she did, so what.

“Hey guys. I confirmed tomorrow’s appointments – one at 11, one a 1. I hope we can explore a little bit of Providence.”

“That works for me,” said the wife. “I work from 12 to 8. Take your time. Maybe go to one of those famous Italian restaurants on the East Side.”

“Honey, that works for me. Wish you were with us.”

“I know you do. Give me a rain check. Sometime. But I know you will have a good time.”

“We will, Mrs. Bob. Thank you. Your husband is, you are so good to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So must be Bob.”

“I am.”

So, we sat around the table. I went in to get some wine and beer and munchies ahead of firing up the grill. We talked. Ahmed took of his shirt.

“What a day. It is so green here. And so bright.”

“Ahmed it is.”

“Mrs. B. You should get your husband a Speedo. And you – a bikini. I have to tell you that with the Marines we did a lot of nude swimming and sunbathing.”

He paused. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Ahmed. You didn’t. A bikini? At my age? Thank you.”

“You are welcome. The Marines made me a modern thinker, comfortable with my body.”

“Ahmed,” she said, “ you have, if I may say, a nice one.

“I agree,” I chimed in.

“Thank you. I am glad I did not say anything wrong.”

“Ahmed,” she said, “you didn’t. Funny, Bob was just suggesting we two swim nude. Crazy idea.”

“No, it isn’t Mrs. B. You are both very good looking.”

“Ahmed, I just do not know,” she said. She had drained her glass of wine. Refilled her glass. Drank that. “I just don’t know.” But her fingers were busy pulling at her suit.

What was he up to?

“Boys, I will be right back.”

“OK.”

She left. Ahmed turned to me.

“Just testing to see if, well if she thinks I am interested in her, then… we are safer, until the time, the time…”

“The time?”

“She finds out we are lovers.”

“Oh. And if she wants you?”

“I will take her, if that is OK, but only if she knows I want you to, a craxy BI from Afghanistan. OK?”

“Fuck, yes!” Our fingers touched. She was back out the door. More wine. Face flushed.

“Hope you boys are OK? Did you miss me?”

She was so obviously tipsy. And she was nude.

“Honey! Are you sure? You are still so beautiful.” She was.

“Yes. I want to be nude. I want, I want, I want… you both to strip now. Now. Be nude. Show me what you like. Do you like my tits? My ass? My cunt?

She displayed herself for us. She walked up to the table. Took the bottle of wine in her hands. Drank.

“Fuck, Bob. Fuck Ahmed. There is a nude woman here. Strip. Strip. I want to see you both. Nude. Cocks. Ass. Nude. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

We were nude. I went to her. She pushed me away.

“I want Ahmed to take me, Bob, in front of me. To fuck me. Ahmed, come here.”

He did. He took her over to one of the chaises.

“Bend over women.”

She did.

He was hard. The cock I love was hard. I walked over to the, Touched his cock. Yes. Hard.

“Fuck her Ahmed.”

He did. Entering her pussy in one movement. Hard.

“Fuck, Ahmed. Fuck, Your cock. Yes.”

He took control of her cunt. Hard fucking. No mercy. Not love. Not lust. Just power fucking.

He beckoned over to me.

“You fuck her. Let’s take turns until we wreck her cunt. Make her our cunt. I know that is OK with you. Then, then… we can show her.”

She said, “Yes. What.”

Ahmed said, “How men love.”

It was so strange knowing what was to come after we fucked my wife. It was so strange to be fucking her. I did not know what came over here, but I was not going to object. Especially as we knew she wanted us to use her body, maybe even abuse it. And so over the next hour or so, with brief breaks to drink more, we all got lost in an orgy of sex, finally reaching the point where we gave her poppers that continued what seemed like her transformation into a slut – she even sucked cock – a slut, if only for now.

“Oh fuck me, men. Fuck me.” Wreck my cunt. Take it over. Why have been such a prude. I want you. Free me. Honey, sorry for being such a prude. Will you fuck me.”

“Yes.” I was.

“Honey, well. We… Ahmed and I, well, are… He is… I am…”

“Just take me.”

I pulled out. Ahmed began to fuck her. I moved up so I get kiss Ahmed. I did. While I was, she turned her head and began to suck my cock.

“Kiss him honey, Kiss him. Fuck. Why did I give up sucking your cock. Am I too late? Kiss him.”

Ahmed pulled out. More wine and beer. He started to lube his hand, her cunt.

“Get side by side you two. On your knees.”

We did. He gave us poppers.

He started to fuck her and work my ass with his hand. He would switch off. Fuck me. He started to work he ass, her cunt.

“Fist her Ahmed. Fist me.”

“Yes. Kiss you bitches.”

We did.

He did. I as in lust. She was crying out in pain and lust. His fist went in her cunt. Then my cunt. Then her ass. We drank, poppered up. Lust. Lust..

“You fist her, Bob. I want to cum in you. My lover.”

“Yes, honey, fist me, fist. Let me be on my back so I can watch Ahmed fuck you, cum in you, my fucking faggot bitch husband… but fist me, promise me you will be my…. Yes… your hand feels so good…”

Poppers. More poppers. More wine. Could we get higher, more aroused? We would see one day.

Ahmed poured his seed in my hole. The wife almost passed out in orgasm. cum gushed from my cock. We were drenched in sweat. Ahmed stood back, then pissed on us.

“Fuck, hot.”

It was. I took his cock in my mouth to savor the last of his piss.

What had just happened? How did it happen?

We broke apart. Three nude people. Sexual animals. Two of the married. Two of them men. One woman. Animals.

“Honey? What did we just do?” She asked.

“You tell me,” I said.

She did.

“I don’t know. Somehow when I rejected you, and saw the look on your face when I did, and then the look you gave Ahmed hen he came out… and when I saw how beautiful he was an how you seemed to become more handsome after he came out… and when I felt from that a stirring I had not felt in years – for you or anyone… and the warm sun, the wine… and I went in. And saw you tow interacting, and felt this crazy desire growing… and felt like maybe, just maybe there was something between you… and I was… was… was getting wet… and the bottle of wine I drank getting me tipsy… fuck, baby… I just… fucking had to come out nude and see… see what… make something happen. Find out. Then lust took over… I love you, still… don’t abandon me… please… and your fist… and I know from watching you love it when Ahmed touches you, fucks you…”

“I do. I do.”

“You sound just like you did when we got married.”

“Funny.”

“Yes.”

“We are still married.”

“I know.”

“I loved when you fucked me again, fisted me… damn I wish I had know about that.”

“Me too.”

“Better than 20 sexless years.”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so? You wonder where my sexual interests went. Not to another woman. I was not going to unfaithful. But then… how can a man not look? And then men grew as interest, slowly. Now. Real.”

It was then that she started to cry. Her chest heaving. Her still beautiful breast heaving. I wanted to hold her. Talk to her. I started my suckling her breasts. Feeling the nipples in my mouth. Gently biting her. Playing with her so wet pussy. Probing. My cock was getting hard again. I lifted her onto my lap, impaling her with me cock. I told her it would be OK. She stopped crying. Became an animal. We fucked. Ahmed put his cock in my mouth. She knew. I knew. We knew. He shot a load in my mouth. We leaned down. We snowballed.

“Bob, I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Yes, Ahmed. Love.”

She orgasmed and held on to me. Hard. This was not going to be easy. But I knew what was going to happen, well, probably.

What a transformation in my life after that afternoon and evening by the pool when I came out as bi/gay to my wife. I told her loved Ahmed. We all talked and talked.

We talked. Often the three of us. We knew, for now, we should all stay together. But… sex? Well… She moved into the other guest room. Ahmed moved in in her place. We would be in the bed together. She… well… there were times she came in to join us. I cannot say that I did not still enjoy eating a pussy, sucking tits. And Ahmed had no objection to fucking her. And I had no object to his doing that. And I did too, but what we both wanted, Ahmed and I was to be what we were men in love.

The job search continued. The interviews continued. We had gone to Providence the day after our first threesome. Ahmed was asked back three weeks later. I drove. This time we decided to stay overnight. She, well she, she had to accept that. Too bad. But real. We had plans for an exploration of Providence. CumUnion was back at the Megaplex in Providence. We wanted to go. CumUnion, his first. My first. This August.

This was a trip of trips. I had come out to my wife. I had told her that I loved Ahmed. She, well, she… what could she do? We would see. But today, it was to Providence – the interviews, CumUnion, being out. Being with the man I loved and who loved me. Seeing what we would see.

Driving out, he had to be in suit and tie. He looked good. I could be in shorts and shirt. No much packed in our bags. Plenty of lube and poppers. We drove back roads to Providence. You have to do that since I-84 had not been finished from Hartford to Providence. We enjoyed the less hurried pace of the drive. The views. The countryside. The sunny weather. The goldenrod. Queen Anne’s lace. Late chicory. Early Asters.

We talked. About yesterday. He asked, “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“is it OK she knows?”

“I guess so. She did seem to mind it when I told her. When she saw you fuck me. I guess so. We will have to see.”

“We will. It was hot being a woman, but it is men I love, Bob. Men. To fuck and to fist. To suck. To breed. You. So, don’t worry…”

“I won’t. I will. Life is uncertain. Surprising. To think, that before you came, it was just random acts of gay sex. Now. Not random. Purposive. Real. You, my friend and more.”

“Yes. Let’s focus on the interviews.” We did, talking through the strategy of what seemed to be their final interview process. Then we worked through the plan for rest of the day and that.

We got to Providence. I dropped Ahmed off at the first interview. I checked in early at the Omni Providence. Then walked back to meet him after the interview. We agreed we would not talk about the interviews until after the second one. We grabbed a lunch. Then I took him to the second interview. Time to walk up to RISD, look around, and get back in time to meet him after the second interview. I had to wait longer than we had planned. It ran long. A good sign. Providence was only 45 minutes away from “home.”

He came out. Came up to me. And gave me a kiss. The first so very public kiss. It was a thrill. He took my hand. “Let’s get a drink. Then go to the hotel a change.”

We stopped in a bar. Enjoyed a cold beer. He briefed me on the two interviews. He liked the first job better. But… the second interview was likely to lead to an offer. “I’ll tell you about the interviewers later.”

We were out together. “You know that two men could never being doing this in Afghanistan, I don’t mean the drinking.” He took my hand and kissed it. I kissed him. “I bet you couldn’t. And now with the Taliban…”

“Yes, they would kill me for two reasons – being gay, being a helper to the Americans.”

We finished up. Walked to the hotel. Went to our room. Large. King-sized bed. Huge bathroom.

He said, “Let’s hit the shower.”

I loved being nude with Ahmed. We enjoyed the shower. The opportunity it game to touch, caress, sometime, like today, to piss on each other, to drink some piss, maybe that was the real reason we stopped for that beer on the way to the hotel. His hard cock felt so heavy in my hands as I soaped it. His balls full. His ass cheeks form. His nipples tight and hard. His stomach hard. Legs. Beautiful. This was a beautiful man. His darker skin an arousing contrast to mine. And we were here together.

We dried each other off. Put on some fresh clothes. A went to Camille’s for supper. Great antipasto, lasagne, zabaglione, of course, a lot of chianti. And hand touching.

Then, a bit tipsy, we went back to the hotel to get ready for the night’s event CumUnion.

There is an amazing intimacy in getting ready, at least for us. Joint cleaning out. Joint readiness. Maybe you finally have no barriers when you have your lover be the one to handle the shower-mounted enema, when it is your lover filling you to get you ready. At least for us. We had brought the equipment with us. Ahmed had come to like prepping me slowly, enjoying the flowing in, the holding, the flowing out, especially the time when it runs clean, the time he would always use his fingers to expand my hole, to feel inside, to tell me through his touch how much he wanted my ass. This was such an incredible time. Rich in feelings. Deep in intimacy. Always ending with his mouth on my pussy, then his lips on mine, then deep, full embracing. Often a fucking. Tonight we fucked. He wanted me to feel his cock in me all night. He knew that tonight would be a night when I was fucked and bred by many men, all strangers. He would be fucking and breeding strangers’ hole. This was why we were here tonight. This would be a test both of out depth of homosexuality and out commitment to each other as primary lovers.

Tonight. CumUnion. The Megaplex.

One of the two famous gay “clubs” in Providence. One of the two gay clubs in New England. In an industrial park. The Megaplex seemed to be back on a high note – renewed, restored, a haven for men, for men with a common interest – finding sexual expression, sexual fulfillment, maybe in the old style when being a homosexual was a forbidden sexuality, and where we homosexuals knew we could find fulfillment in an important way in a place where anything went in a world when only vanilla heterosexuality was the way.

Under baggy pants and tee shirts, we wore our gear: leather chest harnesses, leather jocks with center red stripes. I had wrist and ankle bands, ceah with an O ring. I also had a studded collar with 2 O rings. Ahmed had written Pig on my ass, and on my chest the words Fist Pig. “I want to see you taken over, Bob. I will protect you, but I will do my best not to limit your experience or mine. You have told me how much you want to used tonight, how much cum you want pumped into your cunt.”

“Yes.”

I packed our bag with lube, poppers. In the back of mind, I was hoping someone might give me more. I had read about how incredible meth crystals in your hole could be.

The collar drew a few looks as I walked out the hotel. Otherwise, we were covered. The trip to the Megaplex was short. I could see Ahmed’s cock straining his paints. We got there. A nicely full parking lot. A few guys out of their cars walking toward the entrance. We joined them. I was trembling. I wanted to go in. I did not want to go in. This was being out as a gay person, in a crowd… I thought, what if there is someone here who knows me. I thought so what. She knows. And hell… We went in. Paid our fee. Went to our lockers. Got down to our basic uniform. Ahmed looked so good. So did the other men. I loved the ones who just stripped down. Really basic. Not a primo body types. But all men. My cock was straining.

Ahmed freshened up my lubed ass, lubing it with his cock, fucking me right in the locker room.

A black man walked up us. Kissed Ahmed. “May I help?” He asked?

“Sure,” we both said.

Ahmed pulled out. His cock glistened with lube.

“Hey, I’m Ron.”

“Hi, Ron. Bob, Ahmed.”

“If you are fucking here, you must be hungry.”

“We are.”

He lubed his cock and my hole.

“You are in the right place then.” He entered me, slipping in, “And so AM I.”

He fucked me for a while. Hard, deep, getting my hole so much more ready. I was loving it. Ahmed stepped back so that another man could feed my mouth. Finally Ron pulled out. He said he had to stop. Too soon for the first load. But he so wanted to breed me. Give me his hot seed. “Later, man. For sure.”

Damn. Ahmed and I went into the club, to get the lay of the land, check out the men and get checked out.

First, that powerful aroma of men, of sweat, poppers, cum, sex. Intoxicating to me. More than I had ever experienced. Amazing. Here I was. Surrounded by men, men of all ages, colors, all joined in one interest – sex with each other, libertines, with few limits, free in this space. For me, free in a way I had never been free.

Walking in the glory hole room – cock, hard cock, waiting to be sucked. In the maze, men waiting to be approached, men touching men as they walked by, couples, trios here and there. Cocks, asses, hands, chests.

I so wanted to stop. And did. A cock here, hands on my ass, a cock probing for my hole that I bent over to accept. Never looking back. All in low light. What was there not to want?

The sling and playroom. In the sling a big black man being fucked so openly. I would find a way to get into that sling before the night was through. Rooms with doors open, and men ass up, men beckoning with their hard cocks. Men A room for piss. Finally a dark room just enough light, darks. Filled with the sounds of men fucking.

Too much of the poetical? For sure. The sex, raw, total… not poetic. Life in prose.

My goal. Hard cock. Fucking me. Ahmed started things off. In the playroom. Open, free fucking. Not a condom in sight. They would not be here at a CumUnion. We were here for cum. Cum. To give and to receive. I was here to receive. I did. Ahmed pounded. His cock hit bottom deep in me. Groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck him. Fuck him hard.”

“Let me at that pig hole.”

“Cum in him so I can pound it in him, add my hot load.”

“Give him some poppers. Get him wild.”

A bottle pressed to my right nostril. Deep huffs. Fuck yes.”

Was it Ahmed who pulled out? Another huff, then another. What did I care. How many cocks so far? At least two loads.

“Get him in the sling.”

I felt myself being lifted up and put in the sling. Hook him up.”

They did – arms back and up, legs pulled apart, ass hole fully accessible. A mouth on my ass.

“Fucking hot loads, baby. A head left my hole.

“Open your mouth.”

I did. The load and juices from my ass, into my mouth.

“Swallow it pig.”

I did. Then another cock in my ass. Poppers. Cocks, My hole was on fire. So wet. Man after man fucked me. Cock after cock in my mouth. Loads ass and mouth. Heaven.

“Hey men, look at that hungry hole.”

My hole.

“Fuck, I’m doing it.”

It?

“He wants something special in his hole. His buddy told me. So not allowed here. But, damn, you know how these pigs want it. So I have it.”

It?

“Barry, give it to him. I’ll give me more poppers. Fuck, we need this hole so fucked up.”

“Shit, Barry do it now.”

The poppers. But. Barry. I felt him put three, was it three fingers deep in my cunt, it was loose like a cunt. He swirled them around. Pulled out his fingers. I saw him lube up his hands as I felt an incredible jolt, a wave of lust, my hole, my fucking hole, nothing like that before, and then, amazing, hot, delicious pressure on my hole, and then a plunging in.

“Fist that pig.”

He did.

“Fist me!”

“This pig wants it guys.”

“Well, we have our orders.”

“Let’s wreck that pussy.”

Have you been in a sling, moving, but unable to do anything to restrain the enthusiasm of the man fucking or fisting you? This is when you know you re a bottom, a receiver, a catcher, just open to be used. This when we are most like women, especially women in a similar situation where they are objects of men’s lusts and desires. And are happy for that.

It must have been meth. I hope it had been. It made me just feel like I was a hole, a pussy, and cunt. I knew that the hand started to punch me open was all that I wanted. That there was no other role for me but to be a cum bucket, fisted open, gaping, fucked and fisted over and over again, until the men with me were satisfied, I might never be.

It is not like I had not been fucked or fisted before. But never like this. Never this intense. Never this long. Never with meth in my cunt. Never so keep poppered up. Never with such lust. And never, never had I wanted it to keep going. Beyond some limit. These men were taking beyond any limit of time, numbers, stretching. They seemed to know this. They kept me hydrated, touched me with gentleness between time between times of breast beating and grabbing.

Cock after cock. All loads. I could feel loads slipping out of my hole. I was fed loads from my hole. I could feel my hole become a pussy, then a cunt, as fist after fist stretched me so wonderfully, reaching that point when fists could punch into me, two fists, my ass lips so engorged. Some men took pictures to show me what was happening. It was so incredible.

Finally, Ahmed reappeared. So beautiful. He came to the head of the sling.

“They love you, Bob. You love them.”

“Yes, I do. Please fist me Ahmed, please put your fist and cock in me.”

“Fuck Bob, I can. You are so open, so stretched.”

He fucked and fisted me while the men standing around us watched, touched, filled my mouth with cock, with piss, with cum. This was an orgy for them with one man as their center. I knew there was so much sex in this place. So much.

Ahmed arched his back like so many other men had done, shooting his cum deep into my distended guts. How many loads? Not enough was all I count think.

He pulled out. Then put both fists into my love canal. Pounding. Then pulling out.

“Oh my God, Bob. You are blooming out.”

I was. I saw that in the pic one of the guys showed me. I could feel lubed hands caress my extruding prolapse, caressing it, making me push more on it.

“Shit. This man is so incredible. Fuck it back in.”

Ahmed did. He pulled out.

“Push it, make it bloom.”

I did.

“Fuck. That is so crazy. Push more.”

“I love it,” whispered Ahmed in my ear. “I love you.” He showed me the video he had just taken of my rosebud, my rectum pushed out, white with cum and lube. The hands on it. A man feasting on it.

“I just sent that to your wife.”

“I love you, Ahmed.”

Ahmed’s phone registered a text. Her. “WHAT THE FUCK?” Then,”WOW!” Then, “NEXT?”

Next?

What was next? The men here were not done with me. Thank God they weren’t.