An Aer Lingus Pilot Amuses The Judge And The Marine

It's been a while since I've posted a story about our life and sexcapades. NOT for lack of them, I assure you! Simply, increased demands on our time, which put writing up the funtimes at the bottom of the list. But at the request of a good friend and a few devoted readers I think of as friends, here we go . . . 

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An Aer Lingus Pilot Amuses The Judge And The Marine

by BillyC - [email protected]

“Lorcan,” he said simply, having approached and extending a tautly muscled, hairy hand and arm.

“Billy,” I answered, with equal brevity, enjoying his warm, firm grip and aggressive handshake. “And this is my husband, Jim,” I added, nodding toward him.

“Ta,” he said, and I’d learned enough Irish from my husband and his parents to know that meant something like yes or thereabouts. “And two fine specimens of American beef be ya,” he said unabashedly, shaking Jim’s hand just as vigorously.

He was also giving us a slow, undisguised once over, which was comprehensive, as we’d all just completely disrobed for our naked men’s yoga session. He didn’t fill the time he spent ogling us with more words, just proceeded. Clearly, he enjoyed what he saw – his impish grin matched his plumping dick in its appreciation of us, along with his widened eyes when openly staring at our endowments.

I returned Lorcan’s once over, taking in the tight, wiry muscles and sculpted planes of a body that could have belonged to a gymnast. He was darkly pelted in what appeared to be soft fur, inky black against milk white skin, and it looked natural, not trimmed, though a perfect length.

Jimmy, ever practical, thanked our new acquaintance and suggested that we get our positions for our imminent yoga session. I had a few positions I wanted to see Lorcan’s furry bubble butt in myself!

We were enjoying a four-week vacation – I know, quite a luxury – in Hawaii, Honolulu to be precise. My husband’s parents had gifted us their lavish Pacific “cottage” the prior Christmas, complete with a vintage Bentley convertible they kept there. So, when we’d adopted a fifteen year old – long story – we decided to have a long “holiday” for the three of us, as that class calls it. Hawaii seemed the best place – I’d say cheapest, but my spendthrift husband would be annoyed by that . . . and Hawaii is anything but cheap! LOL

The naked men’s yoga sessions were hosted by an uncharacteristically lithesome native Hawaiian, of significant yoga credentials. We’d been introduced to the group by a local on a prior trip and both found the yoga to be a challenging and rewarding workout. Surprisingly the nakedness wasn’t a factor other than being very freeing . . . to be among a decent sized group of men, all naked, just men exercising their bodies. With our son Ellis happily ensconced at home with his array of video games, we had two naked yoga sessions a week for that enjoyment ourselves.

We’d had a particularly vigorous workout. I’d quickly been disabused of my plan to watch Lorcan’s ass by necessity of concentration to meet the yoga instructor’s challenges. There wasn’t a man in the room who wasn’t drenched with sweat, whose towel wasn’t soaked, and our mats needing a good wash. The sessions are held in a large Waikiki apartment, so there weren’t locker room shower facilities, and we would have to wait until we got home to get cleaned-up more than toweling off.

As we were toweling off with the extra towels we had quickly learned to bring to get ourselves in as good a shape as we could for the short drive to Kahala, Lorcan came up close behind us, reaching up with a hand on each of our shoulders. As we turned around, he said in a lowered voice, his comically intense Irish brogue rumbling with his basso, “My hotel is close, and my bed is big enough for the three of us. Fancy a post workout shag?”

He was all grins, and his rich scent was overwhelmingly welcoming. We’d been good – angelic – since we’d left for Hawaii more than three weeks before, and it seemed our divine streak was about to end. “We’ve got a car – ride with us?” Jim asked, after a brief meeting of eyes to confirm the mutuality of our intent.

Lorcan jumped into the big front bench seat between us after an exaggerated expression of appreciation for the “grand old dame” he dubbed our car. I called the car “Ben”, for obvious reasons, and considered it decidedly male, as I tended to think of inanimate objects. We weren’t a half-block on our way before Lorcan had his hands in each of our laps, his grip on my cock firm and full of intent, a running stream of filthy talk complimenting us and sharing his every idea for the uses to which he intended to put our manhoods.

Pilots and flight attendants enjoyed nice accommodations in Waikiki on Honolulu layovers, and Lorcan’s room was large and had an expansive view up Waikiki Beach from the southeastern end, by the zoo. It had been a long walk from the valets to the elevators nearly a block away to the far end of the hall to get to his room, but we made it without attracting attention to the unmistakable signs of our intent visible in our shorts.

There was a moment of awkwardness when we’d gotten into Lorcan’s room, where we hesitated when we’d come in while he put the DO NOT DISTURB sign, closed the door and set the lock, just in case some hotel maid was intent on busting in and observing three horny men satisfying their primal urges. When he turned and saw us sort of stalled, gazing out at the beach, he joked, “Now don’t be telling me you’ve developed a spontaneous case of shyness. And let’s not be having the view outside distract you from what awaits you inside!”

He’d quickly shed his clothes and stood there in all his glory. And a glorious bundle of manhood he was. Oversized cock, uncut with a large overhanging snout even at full mast, and big hairy balls hanging freely. “Undress us!” I commanded.

Lorcan’s devilish grin heralded his intent to comply, and he was quickly upon us, looking from one to the other, seemingly unable to choose whom to start with. “Him first,” I assisted him with his decision.

The Irish pilot’s glint in his eye would have sparkled noticeably at that, had this been a movie. Lorcan took his hands and ran them down over Jimmy’s muscular torso, taking his time from shoulders to collarbone to pecs to abs and finally to his tshirt hem. He then put his hands up under the shirt with a low hum of appreciation, allowing the shirt to lift with his arms as he reached up, Jim assisting by raising his arms skyward. The Irishman rubbed his hands up the length of Jim’s arms, obviously savoring the feel of my husband’s considerable sinew, until the shirt had cleared his arms and popped over his head. He then leaned in and inhaled deeply, moved, inhaled again at Jim's still raised armpit and moaned louder that time. When he went to lick Jimmy’s sweaty pit, I sharply reminded him of his order. “UNDRESS him. There will be plenty of time to pigout on him.”

Compliance was swift, and, with similar technique, Lorcan ran his hands up over Jim’s tented cargo shorts and then along the waist before unbuttoning, unzipping and letting them slide down with his hands inside. The shorts fell as they cleared Jimmy’s quads, and the Irish bitch’s hands were fully occupied cupping Jimmy’s elephantine balls and long fuckspear. With an impish grin, the bitch turned to me, hands still engaged fully with Jim’s hardening cock and heavy hanging nuts.

I planted my hands on my hips, silently, and the Irish bitch got the message. He had his hands running up my torso, pulling my shirt along with him, quickly. He allowed himself the liberty of running his hands slowly down my torso and abs to get to my shorts – I didn’t bother to correct him, as his strong hands felt good on my sweaty skin. My shorts were more complicated than Jim’s, the built-in belt with a molded plastic clasp that gave me fits – and Jim on occasions – to get open, and Lorcan found them no easier to navigate.

Jim grinned at me, watching Lorcan struggle with the belt clasp, and blew me a kiss. His hard cock was standing proud in front of him was near to dripping. I was enjoying the struggle our bitch was having and the scenery of my naked husband, studly and patient.

“For my sins, I can’t say I’ve ever been this helpless getting to a man’s langer before!” the pilot exclaimed in frustration. To illustrate his point he leaned over and bit the fabric of the crotch of my shorts and growled in frustration as he pulled it.

Jimmy and I both busted up. But Jim was the one to take pity on the Irishman, and he stepped forward, leaned and reached over the bitch and deftly unfastened my shorts. “Thank you!” our frustrated bitch huffed with relief, then he added, “Sir.”

Jim looked at me with raised eyebrows and a grin, and I shrugged. Then I noticed that the tip of Jimmy’s jutting ten-incher was either in or near the bitch’s crack. I gestured down with my head and waggled my eyebrows. My husband didn’t need any further cue.

Taking the Irishman by his narrow waist, Jimmy stepped in closer, and just as my shorts were clearing me ass and beginning their fall to the floor, Lorcan exhaled a moan, and I saw his ass wiggle back toward Jim's groin. My cock snapped up after having been hyperextended as he pulled down my shorts, and we both heard it THWACK against the bitch’s stubbly jaw and the side of his head. “Gotta watch that – hard enough to knock a man out and plenty of punch in that baseball bat cock besides,” Jimmy joked. “Believe me, I know,” he teased.

I didn’t wait for Lorcan to choose a move. I grabbed his head and shoved his face into my sweaty sac and nuts. “Lick them clean, and consider yourself honored that I’m giving you my sweat!” I ordered.

It was easy to tell when Jim first worked his huge, flanged cockknob into Lorcan’s wanton hole. He was slathering my sac and sucking on my balls, moaning from the pleasure at both his ends, and suddenly he sucked HARD on my left nut, his sucked breath loud, his body gone rigid. Jim also showed the pleasure of his entry, his face tensing, our eyes locked, me enjoying the grimace of the STRETCH around him when he breeched the bitch’s cuntring. “Give it to him good, husband!” I ordered, and I grasped the bitch’s head and redirected it to my drooling cock.

He gagged and moaned and cried and shouted, all in unison, as I saw Jimmy working his monster cock into him until he was balls-deep. At that point, Jimmy leaned forward, and I did, too, and we kissed as he began pumping into the pilot’s hairy cunt. I evened things out by beginning to skullfuck him while my husband and I devoured each other’s mouths.

When we broke the kiss, we were both in full rut – the bitch being spitroasted to well done. And he was loving every second of it, his moans and grunts and growls telling us just how much. “You wanna switch, Billy?” my generous husband asked.

“Keep fucking him,” I replied. “I want him to suck the sweat out of my shithole!”

The bitch snarled when I took my cock away from him, but he also used one hand on my waist to steady himself as he straightened some, arching his back and fucking back into Jim HARD and needy. If he’d been taller, I would have had him lick my sweaty pits, but he wasn’t, so I turned myself and bent over, offering my hole with my hands back spreading my sweaty cheeks open. Lorcan dove in and was sucking and slurping my rank hole as Jimmy pounded him harder – I could tell from the SLAPs of his thighs and groin against the bitch’s hairy butt and from the impact with which his face was shoved into my crack with every of Jim's savage thrusts. “Let it go, Jimmy – don’t hold back!” I yelled back, laughing.

The bitch took a moment’s break from his oral work on my hole to breathily say, “By CHRIST you fuckers!” and dove back in, growling louder and seeming to want to suck my guts out through my shitter.

“Billy, I’m gonna—“

“DO IT!” I yelled, cutting him off.

I felt and heard Jim’s last brutal thrusts slam into our bitchboy, and I reached back and grabbed his head and pulled his head tighter into my, grinding my ass into his face as hard as I could. As I heard Jim’s guttural growl heralding his release, I cheered him on. “FUCK YEAH! USE THIS BITCH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!” Jim howled and drained himself inside the pilot, whose own howling cries, muffled by my ass, could have been him cumming at the same time. I wouldn’t have been surprised – in fact, half expected – to feel some Irish spunk spraying my legs or feet.

We’d covered the topic of health on the way over to the hotel. Lorcan had offered to show us his test results from only the week before, apparently tested very regularly, I inferred at the airlines’ direction. We’d given our own assertion and offered our own proof, so we’d all called it a draw. As a recent new father, I feel compelled to say that our behavior was inappropriate – strangers should always be more responsible. But we’re pigs! What can I say – that’s the way it was. So much for the disclaimers and social responsibility!

And it wasn’t over.

Jimmy pulled himself out, with a long moan and a yelp from the Irish bitch when his fat cockknob broke free. “Your turn, Billy!”

Lorcan was game and made only a simple request. “Give a sod and let me lean over something this round?” Well, with a gracious – and reasonable! – request like that . . .

I took the opportunity to stretch myself, arms high over my head, arching my back. The pilot lunged into my left armpit face-first, on his tiptoes, and he sucked and licked and rubbed his face in my sweat, moaning and growling as he enjoyed. I allowed him to switch to my right and enjoyed the hell out of it . . . but my cock was nagging at me to get to the main event.

The stench of our sweat had filled the hotel room, and inhaling it was stoking my nuts like a bellows and a fireplace. I was revved up and ready to go. And not to kill the buzz of bumfucking, but our teenage son was waiting for us at home.

“Okay, okay, piglet, that’s enough of that. I’ve got a fuckrod that needs some REAL service here!” I told him, snapping myself back into the moment. I propelled him none to gently to a sofa’s arm and shoved him over. I fingered his sloppy cunt and licked my husband’s spooge from my fingers, replacing my cock at his stretched and puffy cunthole and pushing. “Get on the sofa and let him suck you clean,” I ordered my recently drained husband. “We won’t have time to shower before we head home,” I explained, SHOVING my much fatter fuckpole into the bitch’s aggrieved opening.

“FOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” the bitch exclaimed in his thick brogue as I breached his cuntring and sunk myself inside his wet, warm depths. “By god, YES!” he added, panting but clearly enjoying.

I can say what it was that invigorated me the most as I found myself slam fucking the bitch like I hadn’t hole in a week. It was my sexy, sweaty husband, grinning at me, his enjoyment of me using a bitch was as big a high as any other for him. I knew the look, and while I was fucking this hot little cockwhore who’d come onto us and taken us to his hotel room, in my head it was all about how Jimmy’s enjoyment, as shown by his rapt attention. Well, that, and how GOOD I was going to fuck my husband when we got home later.

The bitch’s cuntwork around my FAT cock was impressive, I’ll give him that. And as his slurping on Jimmy’s slimy cock muffled his cries and caused his gags, my husband beamed at me, alternately meeting my gaze and looking down to where I assaulted the Irishman’s aggrieved cunt.

Jim has been able to read my mind since the first afternoon we hooked up. I’d say it’s his superpower, but he has many, and they are all impressive, so I’ll note that it’s one of his superpowers. I was in my head more than I was in Lorcan’s impressive cunt, and Jimmy certainly knew that as our eyes met again.

Jimmy leaned forward, gagging the bitch more, and he pulled me into a long, deep kiss, all the while caressing my face and neck, the way he does that drives me to distraction. When I went to pull back at the point I felt my insides about to crash over the edge into combustion, he gripped me tighter, sucked my fact tighter and urged me that way to cum for him.

I slammed out my release at bone crushing force and drove my spunkload deep inside the Irishman’s now-wrecked fuckchute. Jimmy rode it out with me and then whispered into my lips when we were finally parting, “I love you!” I managed to huff out a me too . . . and stumbled back panting, vaguely aware of a cry and a pop as I exited the hole I’d just used.

“Get him cleaned up!” Jim ordered our host. “We’ve got to get home,” he added for my benefit, with a wink

Lorcan was choking from Jim’s long fuckstick having nearly asphyxiated him in the long final moments, but he was compliant and slurped me clean, cock and balls. “We at least owe him his own—“ I started to say, but Lorcan stopped me with a hand to my lips and pointed. There, where he was pointing, all over the end of the hotel’s faux silk sofa, was a very respectable splatter pattern of Irish manspunk, dripping and running down by then in thick, milky white rivulets. “Ah, well, that was considerate of you!” I told him.

“I won’t be flying until the evening tomorrow, if you boys are so inclined,” he offered as we were yanking on our clothes.

“We leave tomorrow as well, so I’m afraid it won’t be possible,” Jimmy told him. “Give me your number, and we’ll see if we can get into the same time zone again sometime.”

He did, and Jim registered it in my phone, as it was the first he laid hands on, and we headed out with brief thank yous all we further exchanged.

We held hands going down and to the valet, then in the car on the short drive home around Diamond Head. When we walked in, our newly adopted teenage son Ellis gave us a heartfelt hello and then took stock of us. “Looks like you two will be needing some time to yourselves now,” he surmised with a smirk, too close to the truth for propriety.

“Just a shower and then some lunch,” I countered. “We’re famished after an extended workout,” I told him with complete sincerity. “And we KNOW that YOU can ALWAYS eat!” There was no argument . . . and not even a note of complaint when we took far too long in the shower, enjoying each other.

As always, my hope is that you enjoyed this most recent offering of a day in the life of a retired Marine and a Judge, who are pretty typical middle-aged horndogs. I welcome any thoughts, comments, questions and anything else anyone would like to send to me via email. [email protected]

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