At the Gym; a Ginger Gym-Rat Hit on Me

“Let’s go then!” Michael said and jumped off his bed.  For a moment he stood there resplendent in his tall muscular presentation like a naked ginger Captain America.  Then he lifted his left arm and smelled his pit; he grimaced.  “I reek!” he assessed.  Then he reached back to his ass and returned his fingers to his nose.  “Seriously dude I should shower before you hand me over to your mastidon-cocked husband.”

That’s what we were doing.  The red-headed gym stud had already been sucked-off by me and then fucked by me; his hole was dripping full with my seed.  “No way!” I protested.  “That sweat and cum in your hole may make the stretch easier when he tears into you; cum is far better lube than anything you can buy.”

Michael laughed.  “I honestly didn’t know that; and I’m a nurse!  You serious dude?”

I’d think he didn’t remember my name but it was only three “dudes” since he’d called me Al.  He was even bro-y when I was pounding his prostate; the “dudes” were flying.

“It’s actually something about the body’s temperature and viscosity; the rectum is a great warming chamber.  Like those wax warmers at the barber’s,” I told him.

“I might have to do some deep research on this,” he said thoughtfully and then grinned at his pun.

I didn’t mind the sight of him standing there like he could be posing for a statue of a Celtic warrior.  But I also wanted to get going.  “You can do LOADS of research as soon as later after Kent adds his to mine.  Now get something on so we can get going.”

“Kent is your husband’s name?  Like Clark Kent the man of steel?  His dick certainly looks super!”  He chuckled at his lame joke.

“Get dressed.  And don’t quit your nursing job for stand-up any time soon.”  He laughed and walked past me toward a closet; his very strong aroma made my exhausted dick suggest I’d be doing more than watching when we got to our place.

“My beater’s in the shop; I’ve been Ubering for two days.  Mind if I ride with you?  I’ll Uber home after.  I’ll put the driver’s windows down if you don’t let me shower at your place so the driver doesn’t give me a shitty rating.  I’ll need to Uber for a couple of weeks.”

He emerged still naked but with a pair of gym shorts that obviously was not clean and a t-shirt in a wad.  “I’m disgusting; no need to waste clean laundry; I hate doing laundry,” he babbled as he passed back to his living room.

I followed and saw he was in the shorts and getting into his sneakers.  I got my shorts and jock strap on and my shoes with him finishing lacing his.  Patting my pockets I realized I’d left my car key in the key locker at the gym and would have to get it when we walked back over there to my car.

Michael bent to root around in his gym bag.  In the process he pulled out a wet jock-strap; I’d forgotten that I’d noticed it when he spotted me earlier.  I picked it up and brought it to my nose.  “Dude I’ve worn that like four or ten times, he protested!”

“I guessed more when I smelled you at the gym,” I told him between a couple of moans accompanying huffs.

“I’m really bad about laundry; good thing we have scrubs provided for work.”  He came up with his keys and jangled them in the air.  I made a mental note to get him as my nurse if I ever (heaven forbid!) have to be in the hospital again.

“What do you wear under the scrubs if you don’t do your laundry regularly?” I asked as we were stopped in the hall while he set the dead-bolt.

As we headed to the stairs he said somewhat too loud so it echoed in the concrete-floored hall, “When I’m not exercising I almost always free-ball. So at work I’m always hanging free.”

Yeah; if I ever need a nurse again … I had his sweat-dripping jock-strap in my hand.  “How often do you wash these?” I asked when we were out in the sun again.  I waved it freely for anyone to see.

“Dude you swiped that?  Or are swiping it?”

“Damn right!” I told him.

“Well guess that’s fair; it’s not mine anyway.”  I looked at him confused as we walked back toward the shopping center where the gym is.  “I swiped it in the locker room and it was pretty rank when I did.  Jacked enough loads and then left it on the bathroom door handle like an air scent.  It almost had aired-out completely by the time I wore it last week.  Kinda boned me the entire time I wore it that first time.  Then I jacked again and used it for a cum-rag again.  But the last three or four days I’ve just worn it.”

“Thanks for prepping it for us,” I told him.

I got my keys from inside the gym while Michael waited outside.  He’d stripped off his t-shirt as soon as we got down the stairs of his building and into the sun; it was hanging from the waist of his shorts.  The gym was busy with people arriving to work-out; about three-quarters of them men.  As I returned outside I watched them almost unanimously eye him as they approached and then passed; many obviously inhaled as they passed.  I doubt he noticed; he had his face turned to the sun with his eyes closed.

We got to our house quickly.  He’d commented on my “sweet ride” when we got to my recently-replaced convertible.  It was replaced because a dumb-ass had rear-ended me immediately after I bought it and since the owners of the dealership are my former employers and good friends they made me a deal to get past the accident devaluation.  I don’t want to say it but I’m sure they pawned my wrecked/repaired one off on someone.  I’d gotten over the ethics of auto dealers when I got my first pay-check.

When we got to our modest house he commented again.  “Damn dude” he’d said when we came through the gates of the country club and, “Sweeeeeet!” when we headed into my driveway.  To the first and last comment I’d replied, “It doesn’t suck.”  To the middle I’d said, “Kent and I love it here; even if we’re probably the only gay homeowners in here.”  We actually are at present; at least the only gay couple.  There are several married men who are questionable and two sons of owners we can attest to as “family.”

Sasha gave Michael the full treatment; sniffed him good and showed he liked our guest by wagging his tail and making himself an obstacle as we went in and he wanted more petting.  I went to check on Kent and when we came back Sasha had his snout up Michael’s rear.

“Okay boy time for us to enjoy that,” Kent told Sasha and he went off with unhidden reluctance.  “I’m Kent,” my husband said and put out his big hand to shake.  With his other hand he shoved his face into Michael’s rank jock-strap and huffed until his eyes rolled back.  “‘Mmmmm,” he moaned.

They shook and Michael held his grip a little longer than necessary while he looked my husband up and down.  He particularly gave Kent’s big hanging dick and heavy-hanging sac a good scan; Kent hadn’t bothered to pull on clothes.  The visiting nurse obviously appreciated what he saw.  “Damn nice dudes!” he summed it up.  He wasn’t talking about the house this time.

Kent grabbed Michael’s ass and pulled him close.  He leaned in and put his nose down to inhale at the base of the ginger gym stud’s neck.  “Nice indeed,” he pronounced.  Then he brought his fingers from the guest’s ass and smelled them.  “A perfect combination; your sweat and Al’s cum.  I may have to make a meal of that before I add my own.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered and he shuddered.  “Anything dude.  I’m down for whatever!” he offered enthusiastically.

We headed to the other side of the house, through our sitting room, and into our bedroom suite.  I stripped-off my shorts and t-shirt and kicked-off my sneakers; Michael followed suit.  Then Kent pulled me into a scorching kiss.  When he released me I was reeling … and horny as fuck again.

“Not only did my big strong husband go out and hone his already amazing body he also brought home something for me to enjoy.”  He again grabbed Michael’s ass and this time penetrated him gently.  Michael pushed back and Kent laughed.  “I so love an eager bitch-boy!”

“I’ll be your bitch sir,” Michael said eagerly.

Kent laughed.  “Then get that hole up on the bed where I can taste you!”

Michael scrambled up onto our king-sized bed and was on all fours with his ass over the edge.  Kent pulled Michael’s ginger-furred bubble butt-cheeks apart and then went in hot.

“OH FUCK YEAH!” Michael called out.

“Fuck yeah for sure,” my husband took a moment away from his slurping to agree. “My husband’s cum tastes as good recycled as it does first-hand!”

“He fucked me GOOD,” the boy attested. “And tempted me with your monster cock. Good thing I work in a hospital … later I may need my hole reconstructed after you two studs!”

I was getting on the bed and positioning myself for the bitch-boy to eat my sweaty hole; a buffet train.  “Make yourself useful,” I told him and shoved my ass back into his face.

“Eat my husband’s hole like a good little bitch,” Kent took a break to tell him; there’s nothing little about him.  Then he went back to his own ass-and-cum meal; that elicited a louder moan from Michael that seemed to echo in my crack.

He was a talented ass-eater; that wasn’t a surprise as much as the extent of my enjoyment of his talent was.  I was exhausted honestly; I have no explanation for it but my morning workout had not energized me as much as I thought it would.

Then a horrifying thought came to mind. Oh wait; I didn’t shower last night after Kent fucked the life out of me (and two loads into me), I didn’t shower before the gym, I didn’t shower after the gym, I didn’t shower after working-up my second sweat fucking the gym-rat … I suddenly realized as my thoughts came frantically.  Yet it seems our guest was a pig of the first order; his tongue was half-way to my colon and his slurping was loud and aggressive.  When he wiped his entire face up, down, and side-to-side in my hairy wet crack I knew without a shadow of a doubt.

“Whoa-ho!” Kent’s cry suddenly interrupted my revelry in the boy’s tongue-work.  Given the context of my previous over-thinking of my own hygiene I feared that my husband had encountered a problem at the boy’s hole-end.  My fear was quickly allayed when Kent said, “He’s going to town on your rank hole Al!  We’ve got ourselves a worthy pig here!  Kudos for finding this one,” he said and then gave Michael’s bubble butt-cheek a hard slap which caused him to yowl and then growl into my hole.  Then he took his hands and ripped my cheeks open wide and went in even deeper and louder.

“Grab the lube and throw it to me hon,” Kent added.  Oh yeah; he was still there and talking.  I was too entranced with the tongue-fucking and hole-sucking and got carried away.

I fumbled in the drawer next to the bed and tried not to hit Michael as I tossed a tube of Bucked lube back to Kent.  Bucked was quickly displacing Gun Oil as our favorite ass lube.

I fell back into the thrall of Michael’s aggressive devouring of my hole and buried my head in the pillows to squelch my Lassie-like ecstatic moaning.  If the boy had known my trigger at that point he could have made me blow another wad without touching my impossibly-raging dick; all it would have taken would have been a firm squeeze to my balls.

“FUCK!” Michael suddenly yelled out enough that I thought the neighbors might have heard.  At the same time as I was yanked from my near-orgasmic reverie I felt Michael jolt into me and knew that Kent had went in rough.

Then another loud crack as Kent smacked his ass again and Kent saying from back there, “Yeah bitch you fuckin’ love it.  Get that tongue of yours back in my husband’s shit-hole!”

“It’s seriously humongous dude!” Michael panted.  “Please don’t make that joke I made about the reconstruction become truth!” he pleaded earnestly.

“Want me to pull out?”

“FUCK no!”

“Want me to go easy on you?”

That time a pause before he answered; I felt his body move and he yelled, “NO! Don’t!”

I heard Kent chuckle, then felt another jolt and cry from Michael.   “I thought not,” my husband laughed.  Then another jolt and another cry.  And another of each.  And so it went behind me until Michael was biting my ass and snarling; then I was crying-out in genuine pain.

Another crack; another cry.  “HEY watch my husband’s world-class booty you’re biting there!”  Another crack; another cry.  A pained, “Yes sir!  Just fuck me please sir!”  I thought it sounded less like an affirmation and more like a request to get it over.

Somehow we all three got into a groove and went at it with gusto. I was back to canine howling, nurse Michael was back to hungrily and loudly working-over my hole, and Kent pounded him good and hard for some time.

Eventually I knew Kent was about to cum.  “Beg for this load boy!” he bellowed.

“PLEASE give it to me daddy!  I want it so fuckin’ bad!”

For some reason the nurse-bitch reached up and took hold of my raging hard-on then and began furiously pumping me.

“Your slutty hole needs to milk this load out of me boy!” Kent told him.

Michael grunted or half-growled with what sounded like strain.  His grip on me was tighter and Kent’s voice nearing his relief was getting me there.

“YEAH boy!  Milk my big hard rod and take it!  Yeah boy come on; yeah boy … “  Kent grunted out.  “Nearly … GONNA FUCKIN’ BLOW!”

“Fuckin’ give it all to me!” the boy moaned.

Apparently he felt me thickening near my own third (WTF!) wad and pulled my dick back enough and maneuvered his head down to get my throbbing dick-head in his mouth.  As Kent bellowed and began to cum that mouth pulled my load painfully out of my over-taxed balls.

“Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I cried in actual pain as my balls felt both like they were being crushed in a vise and exploding into a million fragments.

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” was all from Kent as one last savage thrust propelled both his bitch-boy and me forward.  My head was slammed into the head-board matching the pain as I pumped and pumped.

“Mmmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmm,” Michael grunted not in time to my ejaculations so I knew he was feeling my husband’s behemoth dick throb out its ball-load into him.

I was the first to dismount; I threw myself to the side and flipped onto my back.  My sexy husband was still planted deep inside the nurse who’d collapsed his head and chest to the bed; his hole still skyward and that big ass and wide muscles back glistening with sweat.

I reached over and found Michael’s hard dripping dick and gave it a squeeze.  He moaned loud; and Kent delivered another hard slap to that big bubble butt he was impaling.  Michael’s member throbbed in my hand and filled it with slime like a hand sanitizer dispenser.

“Pump him hon,” Kent ordered in a soft voice.  I was momentarily taken aback by the tone; if he’s soft-spoken after he cums that was a damn good one for him.  Jealous?  Me?

“I say we send him home; we’ve got what we wanted from him,” I replied and brought my hand back and made myself more comfortable.

Michael moaned and reached back to Jack himself but Kent yanked his arm to the side.  He also pulled roughly out of him and I swear I heard the PLOP when his big fat head came free.  Michael yelped.

“You heard my husband.  We’re done with you.”  He made his way to me and came down on me kissing me deeply.

He didn’t stop and we were making out like teens in a back seat.  I was lost in it until I felt the bed move and heard Michael say, “Well okay then; guess I’ll be going!”  Then he groaned and I knew his ass was in pain from his initiation to Kent’s monster dong.

Kent didn’t stop kissing me.  It felt like he might never stop.

“Can I get your digits?” Michael asked sheepishly after how long I couldn’t say.

Kent made no immediate move to release my lips, mouth, and tongue from our engagement.  Then as we heard the boy start to walk away Kent pulled back enough to rattle off the spam phone number we use; it’s an app for a second line and we both use that number for app registrations … and now for a trick we might not be interested in seeing again.  “Get that?” Kent’s lips brushed mine tantalizingly as he asked.  Michael rattled it off.  “Tell Sasha he was a good boy; he’ll be sitting by the sitting room door when you go.”  A pause.  Then, “You were too by the way.”  Then it was my turn again … for a long time.

Neither of us remembered that I’d driven Michael to our house; or that he couldn’t get an Uber in past the gate guards if he requested one.

Hours later both our phones bonged with the soft dull single tone that spam phone app is set to when we get a text; we barely heard it over the jazz we had on Amazon music on the outdoor TV.  We were all three on the lanai with Kent and me talking about dinner but only having done anything about Sasha’s dinner so far; he was contentedly laying by our rocking chairs with his belly full and didn’t react to the phone.  We were naked as usual and enjoying the last of the day’s heat.

Neither Kent nor I made a move to see what the message was; that was the whole point of the app and it was frequent that other apps sent texts.

Finally later after we’d had some dinner we were again on the lanai we were dressed; the nights were getting cool again.  We’d been watching the most recent Bosch episode and when I was scrolling to an old ep of True Blood Kent checked his phone.  He held it out for me to see and said, “It’s cute he thinks we care.”

The message was from Michael of course.   And there was a selfie of him on his back in bed his ripped, corded, beautiful young torso, neck, and face covered in cum.  “Slept really well and woke wanting more of you.”

I knew Kent had picked-up on my momentary pique earlier; I hadn’t spent any time analyzing why it had bothered me that he’d enjoyed so much fucking the nurse I brought home.  “It was a possessive moment Kent,” I told him because I needed to have it gone and over.  “He was fun,” I added signaling that we could play with him again.

Kent leaned over from his chair and kissed my neck and nuzzled into me.  Then he pulled back and looked into my eyes very seriously.  “I’m always yours Al.  I was long before I was and you didn’t know I was; and I have been every minute since I have been.  I always will be; WE always will be.”  He held my gaze and I grinned and felt my insides fluttering the way I did when he first told me he wanted me to go home with him from the restaurant he worked at after six months of me being clueless that the hot hunk of a young waiter was flirting with me.  Our moment lengthened.

I finally couldn’t resist.  I was still grinning.  “He was damn hot!”

Kent’s earnest gaze broke into a grin.  “I haven’t thanked you properly for bringing him home.  Maybe I need to send my stud husband to the gym more often to pull hot young play-things for us,” he teased.

“About thanking me properly … “ I said with a welcoming smirk.

Even later that night after Kent got out of bed and took Sasha out my phone bonged again with a text on the spam number.  I checked it because what else did a fucked-out man whose husband had just left with the other male in our lives do?

I saw Kent had sent Michael a very late reply.  “Thanks for a great afternoon.  Sorry we got so wrapped-up in eachother that we didn’t drive you home.  See you again sometime?  Kent&Al xo”.  And the bong had been a message back from Michael.  “Working so this quick.  Pleasure was mine.  No worries about ubering.  You DROVE me plenty.  Hoping you do again.  Sweet dreams my princes.”  Accompanying the text was a photo of his hairy swollen gaping slimy hole that we’d both enjoyed so much.

Kent came back in with Sasha trailing and then passing to go on into the closets where he likes to sleep.  The former saw me with the gaping hole pic on my phone and smirked while he took off the sweats he’d put on to keep the cold night at bay.  “That’s a gay romance novel book cover waiting to happen.”  I laughed.

Kent crawled back into bed and wrapped me in his muscles and held me tight.