A new story online today, 7,000+ words of mfm action. The start is below, and the full story can be had for US$1.5 here, as part of Hot Wives & Girlfriends – Volume 2, three stories for $3 (here), or as part of Volumes 1, 2 & 3 for $6 (here). A whole free story in all text formats can be found here if you want to try more before you buy (it’s an MDMA-fueled gangbang, so be warned):
I’d gone out drinking with a co-worker, and we ended up talking about trends in porn, and he let slip that his fiancée had picked up a couple of guys in Vegas and he liked it. Felt it had done their relationship a lot of good. Said he was excited about getting married now, that it didn’t mean an end to sex.
Then a few weeks later a guy I knew from high school visited and told us this crazy story.
Cal was travelling up the West Coast, doing his On The Road thing 50 years too late. He was passing through San Francisco and I invited him to stay at my place.
To be honest, I had a lot to be proud of, and a lot I wanted to show off.
I’ll tell you more about that later, but here’s the story he told us both, me and Kim, within a drink or two after I came back from work.
You hear this and tell me it wasn’t some kind of set-up for the whole damn thing.
“I was in this town,” he said, “and I checked into this hostel and was having a beer when this guy comes up and asks if I want to fuck his wife.”
“No way,” said Kim
“Yes way,” said Cal. “Anyway, I took a look at her, and she wasn’t bad. I mean, they’d come planning to do this, right? So I go back to their place and we get high and pretty soon she just starts blowing me, her husband sat right there.”
“Didn’t that freak you out?” I said.
“Kinda, I guess, but it was hot too. I mean, I was stoned and this guy’s wife had my cock in her mouth. I was doing good. I liked it”
“What happened next?” said Kim.
“Well, she kept blowing me, then he joined in – didn’t touch me, we talked about that – and then we fucked her brains out. It was ridiculous. And you know what?”
“She called me over the next day while her husband was at work and sucked my dick again, said ‘young cum is good for me’ and sent me on my way.”
“Wow,” I said, “that’s fucked up.”
“I think it’s cool,” said Kim. “Sounds exciting.”
The whole story’s right there.
I wish I’d seen it coming.
My name’s Bucky Goldstein, or it is in this story, because there’s no way I’m telling you my real name, not with what’s about to go down. But I’ve got to tell someone about it, because it’s fucked up, which is why I’m typing it out here, just to see how it happened, to check out any narrative kinks and get it straight in my head.
I’m a systematic kind of person.
I was born in a small town but I did good in high school. Über geek. Ended up going to a great college, finished early, then came out here to San Francisco for a fantastic job three years ago, for a big company you’ve definitely heard of, but back when it was much, much smaller, and they were still paying in stock as much as cash.
I’m not famous, and I’m not rich compared to some of my peers – but my boss, less than 10 years older than me, and someone who knows my name – he’s in the top 100 richest in the US.
He lives like a god, but I have about as much money as the good-looking dancer who can’t sing in the boyband a couple of years after they split, if he had a good accountant and lawyer.
I don’t have a jet but I have a kickass home with a pool and cabana. I’ve got three cars, a Tesla, a BMW and a 1965 Cobra, in chrome.
I have a statue of Yoda in my garden, right in a nice spot to get high in.
Key point: I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, which is great, especially as I didn’t have the easiest time growing up. Let’s just say that all of grade school sucked, and college too, aside from classes. It wasn’t until I banked my first paycheck for more than $10k a month that I started to relax, smoke weed, and enjoy life.
Of course, that was a few years ago.
I make way more now and life’s even better.
OK, so I had no friends growing up, et cetera, and now I’m living the dream the real fantasy is, of course, to go back to school and show those dull fucks exactly how it turned out. Trouble is, ten-year reunion isn’t for another few years, and so I mostly show off my lifestyle online, with that all-chrome Cobra getting way too few likes, a real sign that my old peers still have shitty taste.
That’s why I leapt at the chance when Cal posted that he was traveling up the West Coast, and that we should hit him up if we had any cool ideas or a place to stay.
I got in touch and said he could stay with me – in my cabana, in fact, which is a real architectural structure, not just poles and sheets.
Cal said yes fast, and would keep in touch on the exact dates, and so on, and in the meantime I plotted how to show him that I had won while he and the others had lost.
It seemed like it would be very easy.
You see, Caleb Novak was kind of dumb and easily impressed in high school. One of the guys who never gave a second thought to giving me a hard time, and who probably felt I was a little starstruck around him, what with him being on half the school teams and fucking all the best teens.
Moreover, I wasn’t buying this soulful Beat-poet reinvention. I knew he’d see what I had and want it, and the lack of it would mean that every time he thought of me he’d feel a mix of envy, failure and shame, which were the emotions he and his friends had made live through back in the day.
He was going to get the full experience, and know exactly awesome my life was, day in and day out, which meant, of course, that he’d be meeting Kim.
Yeah, I need to get round to her, since she’s the girl who gets fucked at both ends.
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