A Tournament Win

Sorry about the delay in my posting of what I promised with the first half of this adventure; life has a way of increasing demand for time far in excess of supply. For us some work travel and the associated work itself interrupted my plans to put this out there right after it happened a few weeks ago. Read on and hoping it gives you a ride!

There was nothing tentative about the German’s knock or forceful push to open the door when he got to our suite. He strode in and proceeded to the bedroom proudly waiving a hard fat but surprisingly cut dick of below-average length emerging from a thick blond bush over tight average sized smooth pink balls. Kent and I were both surprised at the disproportion of his endowment; and of him being circumcised. “You’re … “ I began and caught myself.

“Goot at vollowing orders,” he finished for me and grinning.

We were standing in the bedroom. His arrival was impossibly fast; German efficiency meets male horniness. He gave us thorough look-overs and that fat cock beaded some pre-slime; apparently we passed inspection.

As far as he went his body was all German precision; ripped, built, symmetrical, sculpted. Blond hair which had been trimmed but not too much covered his pecs, abs, bush, and butt; his pelt on his legs and arms was denser and curlier. His skin was milky and smooth and the effect was his very blond hair all over appeared translucent and refracted the ambient light. His dick as I mentioned was below average in length was dwarfed by ours even as we were soft and hanging; but it was thick enough to make me wonder if he might thicker than I am and I am thicker than average.

“My husband was about to say that we are surprised to see that you are circumcised.” Kent is always helpful. “But we can discuss that later. Of immediate need is for you to get on your knees and to drain Al’s piss-load. You will swallow every drop.”

Bastion’s nose and eyes both flared with possible defiance or possible lust; his dick slime globbed forth so he was definitely into it. He descended to his knees without breaking eye contact. And then he opened and up-turned his mouth.

I was a tad concerned for the carpet there in the bedroom but I had to piss too bad to give that much heed. I went to him and dropped my mostly soft dick into his mouth; he closed his lips around me but made no more motions and left his tongue motionless against my skin.

I relaxed and let it flow down into Bastion’s upturned mouth and felt him glugging it down dutifully. His tongue and throat movements were stimulating me; I was getting hard as I continued to drain in our human urinal. Bastian’s gratified groans and moans told the story of a man as familiar with and appreciative of another man’s fluids as he is of cock.

When I was finished and pulled back from his mouth I was full-on hard again. His first look at my hard-on was adoration. “Zat is vun vine grosser Schwaz!” He exclaimed and licked his lips. Looking at Kent he brightened. “You have more for me too before I vork this beautiful Schwanz of your husband or may I begin vith your supreme dong now?” His obvious lust for Kent’s bull hard-on was high.

“Present your man-pussy,” Kent ordered.

Our sex slave smirked at this and turned away from us without a word, bent at his waist, and he pulled his fuzzy and very hard bubble butt-cheeks apart to display a pink hole under a thicket of blond fur. Bastion’s puffy ass-lips betrayed that his butt was no stranger to frequent intrusion.

“That cunt has seen plenty of action,” I scoffed.

“My coont-hole had pleasured many men and vill pleasure more in zee vuture. I am completely hellzee und I take zee PrEP.”

Kent always has good ideas and that night was no exception. “Suck Al’s cock while I eat that slutty cunt of yours and get it ready for him. And when he teams that nasty hole he will get you ready for me. My bet is that I will taste another stud’s load in there already.”

“I am clean!” he protested. “I cleaned myself vell after zose two young men from zee country club.”

“Dirty slut!” Kent spat out; and then he spat for real and landed a large glob over the German’s right eye.

This time he looked up with an expectant smile. “Zeeing zeze two specimens of manhood vith the promise of anozer opportunity vill be my beacon of hope.”

“Okay, okay,” I took it down a notch. “Let’s deal with the here and now. “Suck my cock bitch and show me what ya got!”

“And back that slut-hole up here so I can get you good and ready for Al to fuck it,” Kent added.

It took no time for the three of us to get comfortable on the bed with Kent’s face buried in Bastian’s hairy hole and Bastian’s throat accepting my cock-knob. Bastian was as practiced a cock-sucker as his ass-lips confirmed he was a bottom. He was also not timid with my balls; his response to my signals of pleasure from his grabs, pulls, yanks, and rubs were intuitive and drove my reignition after Kent had skyrocketed me into pleasurable bliss not so long before.

Kent was making loud grunts and groans as he ate Bastian’s hole and finally came up for air; the wetness on his face from his slobber and possibly Bastian’s hole getting wet and ready reflected in the bedroom lamp in just the right way to make me swoon. Handsome devil, hung like a bull, and my ardent compatriot in life; god-damn I’m a lucky man!

After taking a long breath Kent said to me, “I want to see you bust open this hole. He’s ready but not loose.”

Bastian gave my nuts a jerk and sucked harder on my cock as he pulled off; the suction was almost painful when my head finally popped loudly from his lips. He backed around, got a grip on my hard-on, and pushed his hole back and sat on my dick forcefully with a load grunt of exertion; and just like that he jammed down and I broke through as his grunt turned to a brief cry and then a loud, “Oooomph!” when he bottomed-out.

Kent was right; he was tight no matter how used his hole looked. Hot and tight both!

“Now fuck yourself on his cock,” Kent ordered.

There was a well-placed mirror on the interior side wall of the bedroom which enabled me to watch the action from my rear angle as well as Bastian’s front in the mirror. He was as beautifully constructed as a man might be ten or fifteen years his junior; all sinew under fuzz refracting the light and athletic movements as he leveraged himself on his feet planted aside my hips. Shame about the fireplug of a dick on him. The view of my long hard dick sliding in and out of him as he twerked his ass up and down was as hypnotic as his moans of pleasure as he proceeded.

Kent gave me a nod of encouragement after a minute or two of Bastian self-servicing on my meat and I took it as a cue to amp-up the intensity. As he shoved down the length my my iipole again I jerked my hips upward; a loud slap cracked in the air as my groin smacked his hard butt and he loosed a sharp cry.

“Ach! Ja! Fick mein Loch!”

I repeated, harder with a grunt of my own.

“Oooooooh. Ja! Fick mich!”

My German is cursory in spite of many decades interfacing with the factory and headquarters in my job but I knew the tone and the increased strength he put into matching my slams cleared any doubts about his verbalization. He was a bitch in heaven.

Kent shoved his fat bull cock in Bastian’s mouth and gagged him until he was coughing-up snot; he had a good hold on his head and was skull-fucking the German with determination. As Bastion sputtered and gagged he kept meeting my thrusts; good boy!

“You were made for American cock; to be a receptacle for it and for Americans to get-off in. You Germans and your Aryan superiority and all you really are is cock-whoring sluts who serve real men!”

Wow! Where that came from I wasn’t sure. Kent can be very verbal and creative but is rarely so specific; though he ‘creates conveyance of concepts through choice and assembly of words’ by his own definition.

Bastian was fueled by those words and began grinding on my cock in a way I felt made him jolt as he hit his spot over and over. His gurgling and sputtering around Kent’s cock in his throat was moderating; he was getting praise from Kent too.

“Yeah work yourself on these two American cocks spit-roasting you. That’s it; throat my cock now you’ve got it.”

I was watching Bastian’s stubby fat dick twitch with every jerk of his body when he used my knob to give his p-point a jolt. His pre was flinging about as that fat hard-on jolted about. Bastian’s hole was giving my cock a work-up as his jerks coincided with clenches and he milked me.

“Aaah ja! Ich komme. Ich kommmmmme!” he finally cried out and I watched that snub-nose cannon of his blast a thick stream of jizz when his body tensed and ground down hard on me; and another, and another.

I was exploding myself and grabbed his hips tighter with a death grip and blasted myself inside him.

“Ffffffuck yeah! Take it you Kraut fuck!” Where the fuck that came from I can’t say; only that Bastion’s pussy was gripping me so tight as I cut loose that I got caught-up in Kent’s moment.

My husbandwas letting loose himself with his head thrown back and howling, “Take that American spunk you scum-sucking pig!”

The German sucked down most of it but sputtered-up some that back-flashed out around Kent’s bush. His hole was still tightly clenched on mine with his fuzzy bubble butt jammed down on me and his chute still spasming deep inside him on me; I was milked-out but the milking continued on until I got too sensitive and shoved him off me. As my fattened knob plopped out he howled and some of my cum-load ran out of his hole and onto my thigh. I smacked his ass hard. “Kerp it inside you!” I yelled.

He yelped and clenched; and let Kent’s big pole leave his mouth. Kent flopped down onto the bed and sort of pushed Bastion to roll between us.

Closer his male sweat was detectable. It wasn’t Kent’s or my own as far as desirable; it was a bit sharp with soap, deodorant, and sex all in the mix, but sharp and intrusive. It fired off desire in my balls from the simple and sure knowledge that we’d well and truly had some seriously good pig-sex.

“Zank you!” Bastion said enthusiastically; but he was obviously uncomfortable between us on the bed.

Kent had switched-off the superiority shtick. “That was fun. You’re a hot piece of ass Bastian. Maybe we can do this again after we win the matches tomorrow.”

Bastian never relaxed with us. “I zink zat is my cue to leave you two,” he replied and scrambled off the bed. “Vith my zanks,” he continued. “Zee last time I came zat way I vas zee teenager! Zo zee promise of zee rematch to use zee vord is very desirable.”

He made no attempt to get dispensation to return to his room clothed. Although we couldn’t see from the bed the very short time from his opening to closing the door to our suite told me he didn’t retrieve his briefs and pull them inside to dress before going out. Kent apparently had the same thought.

“Bold to walk out butt nekkid isn’t he?”

I looked at him with a devilish glance. “Dare ya to!” I challenged.

Kent rose from the bed and walked toward the living room. He stopped, turned, and asked, “Coming?” When I protested by telling him I’d love to and waving my floppy dick at him he came back to the foot of thbed, took my foot, and kissed it. “Where I go you go; where you go I go!”

“Then get the fuck back in the bed,” I told him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he grinned and bent over and kissed the inside of my thigh and brushed my nuts with the stubble on his chin.

It was a long slow session and neither of our nuttings came easily to us. We didn’t mind the work; but we were famished and exhausted when we were done. We ordered UberEats from a favorite place when we’d lived there but made no move to shower or to clean-up. We reeked in the best way two men can.

We left the suite door propped open on the security latch and could tell when the UberEats guy got there; Kent opened the door wide still naked and called a thank you as the guy walked toward the elevator. He turned and stopped short seeing my hunk of a husband butt naked; I was behind him by that point.

The UberEats guy was thirties and fit as fuck from what we could see; dessert? He stood there gawking at us until he finally said, “Y-you’re welcome?” with a sheepish grin.

“Hungry?” Kent asked. The many meanings hung in the air for a moment.

I adjusted my position enough for my crotch to be visible while still keeping my scarred torso behind Kent’s broad lats. I grabbed my long-hanging dick and waved it at him. “Plenty to eat here if you’re hungry.”

He took a beat to answer; his hand absently went to his sweats and adjusted himself. Then he smiled and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment but politely decline … for tonight anyway.” As he walked away he called back, “In the app you can contact me if you’re around tomorrow and still … hungry.”

“We’re losing our touch!” I told Kent.

Kent dead-panned. “I prefer to take his rain-check invitation as a compliment.” We laughed as we picked-up the bags and went to attack the meal.

The following day did not hold an opportunity to further feast on Bastian. In a freak accident (more accurately an act of colossal stupidity) Bastian miscalculated a hop over the net after winning his first match and landed head-first; he was taken to Riverview hospital by ambulance.

On our way to the airport Monday we stopped to see Bastian; he was still at the hospital. His head injury was so bad that he was confined to bed and was sedated to the point that he couldn’t even get hard to jack-off; two facts he disclosed with loopy humor tinged with heartfelt woe. He did appreciate us stopping by and told us that being spit-roasted by us wasn’t his last exploit before the incident. The slut! We laughed and then he added, “But it vas zee best zis year! Und I vill be in Florida in zee vinter and vill vant more!”

That left our egos inflated as we left New Jersey. That and three trophies which were being sent to us after they were engraved; Kent’s and mine for our doubles championship … and mine for singles champion! The very perfect ass of Adam the UberEats driver was our other trophy; that one we took in our memories only.