I logged into that site without a clear purpose, more out of habit than desire. Still, when the message arrived, I felt something different — not urgency, but curiosity. His words were carefully chosen, as if he knew exactly how much to reveal. At first, he spoke of partnership, of something shared. Later, the story shifted, as if improvisation were part of the game. Strangely enough, that only sharpened my attention.
I agreed to meet with a calm that didn’t match the subtle tightness in my chest. The meeting point felt far too neutral for what was being suggested. As I approached the car, I felt two gazes settle on me at the same time. Leo held mine steadily; Marcos looked away and back again, as if measuring me in silence. At that moment, we were already three — even before a single word was spoken.
The drive to Marcos’s place was short, but mentally endless. The silence inside the car wasn’t uncomfortable; it was dense. Every movement, every glance in the rearview mirror seemed to carry an unspoken question. I felt I wasn’t there merely as a guest, but as a piece of something slowly taking shape.
The apartment welcomed us with lighting too dim to be accidental. I took off my jacket slowly, aware of every gesture, every breath that seemed louder than it should be. We stood close, yet untouched. It was as if the space between us was the true center of the scene — alive, charged, provoking.
Leo carried a firm, almost controlled presence. Marcos, on the other hand, seemed to blend into the atmosphere, as though he naturally accepted the role of feeling before acting. I watched them, while at the same time feeling watched. There was no rush, only a quiet construction of intentions.
Nothing needed to be said for everything to be understood. The atmosphere suggested paths, possibilities, combinations. I realized it wasn’t about two separate encounters, but something triangular forming in the air. The sensation of being desired by two different gazes at once stirred the mind more than any direct contact ever could.
Marcos approached me and we started kissing, our cocks rubbing together. We took off the rest of the clothes we were still wearing. Marcos sucked my cock with gusto, while Leo watched everything. Then I started licking his ass until my jaw hurt. That's when he asked me to fuck him. Leo came closer, grabbed Marcos's ass, looked at me and said: "Fuck this little slut's ass!"
I started fucking him while he was lying face down on the bed. His ass was delicious, loose, really nice to pound, and he was a little slut in bed too, letting out really nice moans and always asking for more cock. He really liked it when I went harder. He sat on top of me with great pleasure and that's when he came on top of me. Then Leo asked if I came, I said no, he came closer, licked all the semen that was on my body and then started sucking me. I could feel the head of my penis inside his throat, he was sucking with such desire… I warned him I was going to cum, he increased the intensity of his sucking… I ended up cumming in his mouth. He looked at me with a mischievous look and wiped the corner of his mouth.
As the night began to dissolve, there was no sense of closure — only suspension. As if something had been initiated, but deliberately left unfinished. What didn’t happen there gained even more power precisely because it remained in the realm of imagination.
On the way back, Leo said something in a low, almost confessional tone, revealing a desire that until then had seemed contained. I listened without responding right away. Some stories don’t ask for answers — they ask for time. And as I continued on my way, I knew that night had not been an ending, but a prelude.
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