[ginger, asian, twink, big cock, threesome, oral, rimming, nipple play, spitting, double penetration, breeding, cumshot]
The door closed with a thud, and I heard the turning of keys, his keychain jangling. I closed my laptop, took my mug with coffee that had gone cold, and got up from my chair to greet him.
He was gripping the doorframe to the bathroom to keep his balance while taking off his running shoes, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and his bulging biceps.
I met Mark almost five years ago, through work. He was working for a smaller company our company was supposed to merge with, and, oh boy did we merge. About three times that drunken night in the shitty hotel room we had the conference in, and any chance we'd get during the next two days we had our meetings.
„Hey, love. I’m gonna pop in the shower.”, he said, taking off his sunglasses and leaning in to give me a kiss. I loved the smell of sweat oozing off him after his runs, and I closed my eyes and took a sharp breath, as my lips pressed against his, to take in as much of that sweet, sweet the scent.
“Had a good run?” I asked, running my fingers through his ginger hair. He let it grew out a bit, along with his beard, going for the rugged lumberjack look. Though I don’t think he ever held an axe in his life.
“Yeah, nothing special. Work done, afternoon off?” he asked, taking off his shorts and boxers, his thick uncut cock dangling over his low hanging balls.
“Well,” I said, coming closer, gently taking his balls in my hand and playing with them lightly, the tip of his cock brushing against my forearm. “He’s coming in about half an hour, so we’ll be waiting in the living room.”
The “he” in question was Henry, guy in his mid-twenties I’d met at the gym a week or two ago. He came over to ask if I can spot him, seeing he started training recently and was having trouble building muscle. Lean, unshaven, blonde with blue eyes, his skin glistening in the sun, and a coy smile on his face as he asked me for help. Few days later I caught him staring at me in the gym as I was changing, and I asked him if he wanted to have a drink with me and Mark. We had a few beers, got to talking about old boyfriends and coming out to our families, some tips on training, and then I simply asked would he like to fuck sometime. He answered “Maybe…”, that coy smile making an appearance once again. From that I concluded that he’s a good fuck.
It would turn out I was right.
Mark’s eyes opened wide for a moment, as his expression changed, mouth making an “O” shape, my buff monkey boy feigning surprise. “Oh, I’ve forgotten about that. Great, I’m all pent up from the gym anyway.” he said, guiding my head around his cock, and I could feel it throb already, as he put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.
Mark had started taking the gym and his runs more seriously a few years ago, when changing jobs caused an episode of depression and working out helped. Of course, the blowjobs at the gym also helped, as boys could not resist staring at a shredded ginger with a thick beard and a hairy chest, and if he nonchalantly dropped his boxers and paraded to the showers and back – and he often did – that was game, set, match.
He took his boy and the jewels to the bathroom, and I went to the kitchen to wash my mug and see if we’ve got beers in the fridge. I took care of the dishes and went to sit on the couch, waiting for Henry to arrive and Mark to finish his grooming ritual.
While I do enjoy working out, I love pasta much more. And so, I stayed the way I was when we started going out, a beefy guy with a round belly and a nice face, sporting a styled beard as it hid the fat on my chin I always hated and could never get rid of. I played rugby and hockey when I was younger, and I guess that’s why guys call me “beefy” instead of simply “fat”.
I hadn’t gotten my fill of doomscrolling on Instagram when I heard the doorbell, and I set the phone aside and went to open the door. Henry was wearing a white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and some khaki shorts with dark brown loafers, a thin golden chain around his neck. The young man was fashionable, albeit that fashion being heaving inspired by Austin Butler and Chalamet and the like. I guess twinky white boys do run the world, at least the gay one.
I let him in, and we talked about his new job at the lawyer firm, getting the job through his father’s acquaintances, as I was getting the beers from the fridge, and we made our way to the living room.
“Yeah, I guess, but I wouldn’t worry about it.” I said, Henry complaining about typical new work situations people have when starting a new job, something I’ve seen and heard a million times before.
“I know, it’s going to be fine. I do like the company. Remind me, what do you do again?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.
“I’m head of foreign relations, for China and Korea mostly.” I answered, putting some music in the background as we relaxed on the couch.
“Oh, you speak Korean? Thought you were Chinese.” Henry said, leaning on his knees as he did.
“Born in Taiwan, my family moved to Korea when I was young.” I answered. I already knew what his next question was going to be.
“But your name is Michael?” he asked, a typical question by white guys when they spend all their lives living in close-knit groups of old money, new money, or something along those lines.
“Dad was obsessed with basketball. And Michael Jordan was his favorite.” I chuckled, opening a beer for myself.
Henry laughed as well, and then Mark walked in. Wearing only his loose boxers, he sauntered over to Henry to greet him, then sat down on the sofa opposite of us and opened his beer.
Drops of water were running from his neck to his well-defined pecs and pierced nipples, his abs outlining nicely as he chugged his beer, his other hand relaxing between his legs.
Henry moved over next to me, and we spent about half an hour relaxing and talking about the gym, some events happening in our town and travelling.
“You’ve always been open?” Henry asked, curious about what’s the arrangement between the two of us.
“I’m the jealous one, if that’s what you’re asking.” Mark laughed, finishing his beer.
“Yeah, he can be. But sex is not the most important thing in our relationship, and why not have as much fun as you can? We’ve all got one life after all.” I answered, taking another sip of my beer.
“True, but I think most relationships don’t survive that.” Henry said, a sentence from a man who’s still trying to find “the one”.
“We’re mostly open when one is away for work. And we know each other well, so we check in whether we’re fine, but neither of us values sex as the most important thing in our lives. I guess that’s why it’s working, at least for now.” I said, patting his leg, and letting my hand linger there.
“Yeah, I mean, there was a time I was horny as fuck all the time, and Michael was stressed from work, so I fooled around a bit. I had my release, and I didn’t grow contempt or whatever against my man for not fucking me more often.” Mark laughed. “When it passed, we closed it up again, and we were back only for threesomes when we wanted a change of pace. Like now.” He grinned, and I smiled back, slowly running my hand over Henry’s thigh. He didn’t seem to notice, interested in the conversation.
“I get it, why I prefer older guys. You guys got it together.” Henry said, noticing my hand on his leg and smiling at me.
“Hear that Mark, he’s calling us old.” I said to him, “Why don’t you get us more beer while I started teaching this boy a lesson?” I motioned to the kitchen as I took Henry’s hand and put it over my crotch, my cock itching for some action.
