Date: 2016-02-26 05:00:00+00:00

His Secret Sins
by

Henri Couesnon

Copyright © 2016 Henri Couesnon

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published by Henri Couesnon

Cover design by TheBookCoverDesigner.com/Misha Richet

Table of Contents

Chapter One: From Russia, with Lust

Chapter Two: Caffeine and Cocaine

Chapter Three: Marital Duties

Chapter Four: The Observant Neighbor

Chapter Five: The Office Boy

Chapter Six: While the Cats are Away

Chapter Seven: Share and Share Alike

Chapter Eight: Threeway—the Only Way!

Also by Henri Couesnon

Chapter One: From Russia, with Lust

It was a Friday morning, in summer, in Marseille.

Elise loved her job. As a result, she always arrived at the office building early. Today was no exception. She was already comfortably installed at her desk in the reception area when the elevator door slid open, and her boss swaggered in.

Marc Remy was the most handsome man Elise had ever met. She had a crush on her employer, although she always did her best to hide it. Nor was she alone. Monsieur Remy was the idol of the secretarial pool, and Elise was the envy of her coworkers.

This morning, her boss was looking exceptionally attractive. He was not yet thirty years of age. He had an athlete’s body, which was barely concealed by the impeccably tailored three-piece linen suit which he wore. He had long, silky chestnut hair, which touched his starched dress shirt collar, and a matching mustache. His eyes were blue and sensuous, his mouth full and habitually pursed in a secretive, self-satisfied smile.

On the third finger of his left hand, he wore a broad gold wedding band.

His wife, Ghislaine, was a local socialite, one of the best-dressed women in Marseille. The Remys were often described in the local press as “Marseille’s golden couple”—an appellation which Marc routinely and modestly dismissed, as “just so much nonsense.”

Elise fully appreciated the fact that being the secretary of such a successful executive gave her a certain cachet.

“Would you fuck him, if you could?” one of her girlfriends in the secretarial pool had asked her, recently.

“Of course I would,” she replied. “He can throw me down on his desk and take me, any time!” she joked. “But he’s devoted to his wife. And who can blame him? She’s so beautiful … so glamorous. She’s always being written up, in the magazines.”

“Still, they don’t have any children, yet,” another one of Elise’s girlfriends pointed out. “Maybe their sex life isn’t so great.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Elise retorted. “Look at them! They’re both so beautiful, so sexy … they probably go at it together every chance they get. They probably fuck like a pair of minks!”

Her memories of that conversation were interrupted when the male mink in question passed by Elise’s desk, and he treated her to his usual silken, seductive smile.

“Good morning, Monsieur Remy,” Elise murmured.

“Good morning, Elise.”

“Did Madame Remy leave on her trip, all right?”

“Oh, yes. I dropped her off at the train station just now, on my way to work. Thank you for making the travel arrangements for her.”

“Oh, that was no trouble at all. It was my pleasure.” Elise looked wistful. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, to go to Paris and spend the weekend shopping for clothes,” she said.

Marc laughed. “Well, unfortunately, I don’t have to imagine it. Because I’m the one who has to face the reality of paying the bills! Ah, well—so long as Ghislaine has a good time, that’s all matters.”

“Your mail is on your desk, monsieur.”

“Thank you.”

Marc retreated into his office, closing the door behind him.

He gave the mail on his desk blotter a cursory glance. There was nothing which couldn’t wait.

Now that his wife was on her three-and-a-half hour train ride to Paris, where she’d be staying with one of her girlfriends, he had other priorities.

Ignoring the telephone and the computer on his desk, Marc picked up the brown crocodile leather briefcase which he’d brought with him from home.

He opened the briefcase, and took out two items—both of which he used for his own personal business, unrelated to his activities while he was at work. One was a small laptop computer, which he opened and plugged in. The other was a cellphone—an extra one, reserved for special communications.

Marc punched in a number on the cellphone. It was a local escort agency. Marc often availed himself of its services. With his customary discretion, he’d waited until his wife was safely on the train to Paris, before he called the escort service to arrange a rendezvous.

“Bonjour! This is Les Hommes de Marseille. Gino, speaking. How may we assist you today?”

Marc recognized both the name and the voice. Gino was one of the guys who manned the agency’s phone line. Marc had never met him face to face, and he had no idea what Gino might look like. But Gino had an ideal “phone voice”—deep-pitched, warm, masculine, and sexy. Marc always enjoyed conversing with him.

“Gino, it’s me—Marc Remy.”

“Oh, how are you, Monsieur Remy?”

“I’m fine. But I’m also horny as hell. I know the weekend’s coming up, when you’re always busy, and this is short notice. But I’d really like to book somebody for tonight.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Let me see who’s available. What time were you thinking about? And would you like an in-call, or an out-call?”

“I want him to come to my place. And I’m flexible. Any time this evening after six will work for me. I’d like to get home and make myself some dinner and relax a little beforehand—that’s all.”

“Well, I know you have your favorites. I’m afraid most of them are already booked for tonight. Would you be willing to let me make a recommendation?”

“Sure.”

“We have a new guy. He’s only been working here for three weeks, but we’ve had nothing but positive feedback about him. And already gentlemen have started to request him again. He’s available this evening. The new hires often agree to be on call as backups, you know.”

“Tell me more.”

“His name is Dimitri. He’s a Russian, obviously, but he speaks very good French. He’s here on a work visa—he has a day job. He’s twenty-two, blond, and really built. And he’s definitely not gay-for-pay. He likes gay sex, and he’s versatile.”

“Have you met this guy in person, Gino, or are you just reading from a script?”

Gino laughed. “Now, I wouldn’t steer you wrong, would I? You know me better than that, by now. Sure, I’m met him. He comes here and hangs out sometimes. I’ve talked to him. He’s not just hot—he’s got a really great personality. If it wasn’t against the rules, I’d ask him out on a date myself.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” Marc observed, idly.

“Not around here, they aren’t. Anyway, you needn’t take my word for it. Do you happen to have your computer handy?”

“Yeah.”

“Open up our website, then, and click on our list of escorts. Then just hit ‘D,’ and he’ll pop up. We’ve got some really nice photos of him posted there.”

“Give me a minute.” Intrigued, Marc did as Gino had suggested. “Fucking hell,” he exclaimed, under his breath, when Dimitri’s profile and photo gallery popped up on his screen.

“Told you so,” Gino said, more than a little smugly.

“Is that dick real, or has it been photoshopped?”

“Now, Monsieur Remy. We wouldn’t stay in business for long if we engaged in false advertising.”

“And that ass. That smile. I think I’m in love,” Marc declared, not entirely facetiously. “This son of a bitch looks like a frigging Russian Adonis. I want him. Can you arrange it?”

“Of course. I’m hitting the keys even as we speak. Would eight tonight suit you?”

“That’d suit me perfectly. And put me down for a two-hour session. No—make it three.”

“Done. Would you like to use the debit card we have on file?”

“Please.”

There was a brief pause. Then Gino said, “You’re all set. I assume you’re at the same address?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give Dimitri directions, on how to get there. He’ll be there at eight. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

“Gino, you are a jewel. When are you going to come work for me?”

“What, in the corporate world? When you get rid of your dress code. Be grateful you can hear me, but you can’t see me. I’m definitely casually dressed—in fact, this morning I look like a slob. One of the perks of this job.”

For Marc, the afternoon passed in a haze. Outwardly, he functioned, as the efficient executive he was. But internally he was smoldering, the prey of his barely suppressed secret lusts. After work, he told himself, more than once, as he watched the clock. After work, as soon as it’s quitting time … I’ll go home, and I’ll get comfortable, and I’ll get myself ready for sex. Oh, damn! Already, I don’t know how I’m going to be hold out until then.

I’m almost tempted to go into the washroom and jerk off. But no … I don’t want to waste a load. I want to save my cum … save it, for that hot blond Russian bitch!

I need a man! I need to be with a man, any man. I need his cock and his ass … oh, I’m going to go crazy, wanting it, before this day’s done!

This Russian hustler … this whore … he’d better be good. He’d better be all he’s been cracked up to be. He’d better satisfy me!

Quitting time arrived at last. Not lingering in the office for a moment longer than was necessary, Marc drove home. His first task, after entering the house, was to strip naked, hang up his suit, and treat himself to a long hot shower. After drying himself off, he pulled on a favorite old T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Barefoot, he went into the kitchen, where he opened a bottle of wine and made himself a thick sandwich, while heating up some soup.

He ate and drank with relish, and then he poured himself another glass of wine and took it with him into the living room. Settling himself on the large leather couch, Marc used his cellphone—his “official” one, this time—to call his wife.

“So—you arrived safely?” Marc asked Ghislaine, when she answered.

“Of course. Claire met me at the station.” Claire was an old friend of Ghislaine’s. They’d gone to finishing school together. Claire lived in Paris, with her second husband, and they were putting Ghislaine up for the weekend. “We’ve been catching up. Lots of girl talk.”

“I can imagine,” Marc said. “Be kind, though, when you talk to her about me.”

“What else, darling? You are the ideal husband, after all. Now, what are you doing, all by yourself on a Friday night?”

“Oh, I’ve brought some work home with me,” Marc claimed, lying as naturally as drawing breath. “That’ll keep me busy this weekend, until you get back. I’ll go to the gym tomorrow. But right now, I’m just relaxing, over a glass of wine.” This, at least, was true, so far as it went. “I’m looking forward to making an early night of it,” Marc added. “Going to bed early—and getting some sleep.” Going to bed and getting laid, is more like it, he thought.

“Yes, you do that, my dear. You work too hard.”

“I’ll try to take it easy this weekend.” Another shameless lie.

Husband and wife exchanged a few more pleasantries before they rang off.

Left to his own devices for the time being, Marc drank enough of the wine to make him feel slightly woozy. He glanced at a clock. It was time to get things ready for his guest.

He went into the bedroom, where he turned down the bed.

Living a double life had its inconveniences, if a man wanted to be careful and avoid discovery. And Marc was extremely careful, to the point of being somewhat paranoid.

The house was equipped with two concealed wall safes. The one in the bedroom was where the couple kept such important documents as their passports, a small amount of cash for emergencies, and—most importantly—Ghislaine’s really valuable jewelry.

But Marc had arranged for a second safe to be installed in a small room which he used as his home office. He was the only one who knew the combination.

There were two handsomely framed architectural prints on the wall in the office, facing the desk. The print on the right slid aside to reveal the wall safe.

This was where Marc stored his “special” laptop and his “secret” cellphone when he wasn’t using them. The safe also contained more cash, a supply of drugs and drug paraphernalia, boxes of condoms and bottles and tubes of lubricant, Marc’s collection of porn, and a USB storage device. The latter was Marc’s equivalent of “a little black book”—he used the device to store the names and contact information of his tricks.

Marc decided he wouldn’t need to get high this evening. He was getting a nice buzz from the wine. He slipped some banknotes into an envelope.

He returned to the bedroom, where he deposited a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the nightstand beside the bed. Fetching a clean towel from the bathroom, he put this beside the bed as well.

In the kitchen, he took a second bottle of wine, a clean glass, and the corkscrew. Carrying these into the living room, he placed them on the coffee table, along with the envelope containing the money.

He sat and drank some more wine, sipping slowly and cautiously now, because he didn’t want to get too drunk. Not when he was expecting a visit from a stranger! Had he forgotten anything? He didn’t think so. He sighed. Making these preparations, and then, afterward, having to put everything away and clean up, could be a pain in the ass. But it was the price a married man on the down low had to pay, for his fun.

He heard a vehicle pulling into the driveway. Consulting the clock again, Marc saw that it was ten minutes to eight. The escort was prompt, which Marc appreciated. Sneaking a peek through the drapes on one of the living room windows, Marc saw an ancient Citroen, in need of some body work and a new paint job, parked in the driveway behind his own car. When the driver got out, he was indeed the young blond man Marc had seen in the agency’s photos. The male prostitute was casually but neatly dressed—and he was every bit as good-looking in person as his pictures had promised.

Marc went to the front door and opened it before his visitor had a chance to ring the bell or knock.

“Bonsoir,” Marc said.

“Bonsoir. Monsieur Remy?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Dimitri. From the agency.”

His French had less of a foreign accent than Marc had anticipated. He also had a rather shy, and altogether enchanting, smile.

“Yes, I know. I’ve been expecting you. Come right in.”

“Thank you, monsieur.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for us to be quite so formal. Make yourself at home. Call me Marc. Grab a seat. Will you join me in a glass of wine? I’ll uncork it here in front of you,” Marc added, matter-of-factly, “so you can see it hasn’t been tampered with.”

Dimitri’s pink cheeks flushed a bit darker. “Tampered with? That hadn’t occurred to me.”

“No? It should. As a general rule, a guy in your line of work probably shouldn’t eat or drink anything a client offers him, until you get to know him and you’re sure you can trust him. I’m sure most of the men who use your agency are reputable, and safe. Still,” Marc went on, with a shrug, “all it takes is one weirdo slipping you a ‘date rape’ drug to mess things up.” He smiled at Dimitri, who still seemed a bit flustered at the turn their conversation had taken. “Of course, you’re almost always perfectly safe with a repeat customer. Which I hope to become.”

Dimitri accepted the glass of wine which Marc handed him. “You speak about such things almost as though—”

“Yes?”

“I was going to say, almost as though from personal experience.”

“I do. When I was your age—I did a little freelancing, myself, to earn some extra money.” Marc laughed. “Not counting a few times when I gave it away for free, to ingratiate myself with somebody higher up on the corporate ladder. On those occasions, maybe no money changed hands, but for all practical purposes it was still turning a trick. There’s no shame in being a whore, if you’ll pardon the expression. The idea is to be a smart whore. You have nice manners. You should do very well in this business.”

Dimitri relaxed. “Thank you. You’re a very handsome man. And this is such a nice house!” he exclaimed, looking around the room. “It’s so elegant. In such excellent taste.”

“Thank you. Now,” Marc said, seating himself on the couch and patting the cushion right next to him, “sit down here beside me, and let’s start getting better acquainted.”

Dimitri obeyed, sitting close enough to Marc that the two men’s thighs touched.

Marc slid his arm around Dimitri’s shoulders and gave him a little caress, followed by a considerably more aggressive mouth-on-mouth kiss. Dmitri reacted to the kiss a bit shyly at first, but then he returned the pressure of Marc’s lips, and he didn’t seem displeased when Marc slipped him his tongue. Enjoying the kiss, it was some time before Marc came back up for air.

“Of course,” Marc murmured against the Russian boy’s lips, “you don’t plan on being a whore all your life.”

“Oh, no. I have another job. I work for an import business. They needed someone who speaks both Russian and French.”

“Ambition is good. Do you enjoy your work? As an escort, I mean?”

“Sometimes I enjoy it more than on other occasions,” Dimitri confessed, ingenuously. “Tonight, though—with you—I think I’m going to enjoy it a lot.”

“Um, aren’t you sweet,” Marc purred. “Come here, my boy—kiss me again—”

They made out on the couch. Dimitri let Marc have his way with him, kissing him repeatedly while fondling him through his clothes. During this interaction, Dimitri drank his wine, catching up with Marc.

Marc was getting increasingly excited—by the kissing, and by the way Dimitri’s firmly-muscled body felt through his clothes.

“Why don’t we get started?” Marc suggested.

“Sure. How would you like us to—?”

“Let’s take this into the bedroom.”

“Sure,” Dimitri said again.

He followed Marc to the bedroom.

“Let me get these fucking things off,” Marc said.

He shed his T-shirt, then slid his sweatpants down his legs and stepped out of them. Dimitri’s eyes widened at the sight of Marc’s nude body. He stared openly and admiringly at Marc’s wide shoulders, deep chest, narrow waist and slim hips, hard-cheeked ass, and sturdy, muscular legs. He also took a good, long look at Marc’s cock and balls. The married man’s penis was already arcing up and out from his groin, in a state of advanced erection.

“What a nice body you have,” Dimitri whispered.

“Thanks. And thanks for not saying, for your age.”

“But you’re a very young man! And I meant it. Your body is so hot.”

“Thanks again. I can’t wait to see yours, though.”

Marc stepped close to Dimitri and put a hand on his shoulder. When the two men’s lips touched, this time Dimitri reacted with a fierce eagerness to the highly stimulating deep, open-mouthed kiss. Marc slipped his tongue forward and pushed it inside Dimitri’s mouth. Moaning with unfeigned pleasure, Dimitri allowed his own tongue to reciprocate.

While they kissed and their tongues dueled, Marc reached up and ran his fingers through the blond’s hair. Dimitri’s whole powerful body quivered against Marc’s. Reluctantly, Marc broke the kiss. He smiled at Dimitri.

“Stand still,” Marc urged. “Let me undress you.”

“All right.”

Dimitri remained motionless for the most part, although he did raise his arms, instinctively, while Marc pulled his shirt up over his shoulders and head, then tossed it aside. Marc’s strong-muscled arms encircled Dimitri’s bare torso tightly, crushing him against Marc’s chest, and almost lifting him off his feet. As their lips met again, Dimitri felt his john’s prick, hard and throbbing, jabbing against his crotch.

Marc went to work on Dimitri’s belt buckle and the zipper of his pants. Slowly, the slacks slid down Dimitri’s legs to his ankles, exposing the white jockey shorts he wore under them, and the bulge of his own growing took inside the briefs.

Within seconds, both men were lying naked on the bed, with Dimitri’s clothes strewn over the floor nearby. Dimitri found himself almost crushed beneath Marc’s solidly muscled body. The Russian lay on his back, his legs apart, his dick compressed rigidly against his stomach, twitching with excitement. Marc crouched over him, feasting his eyes on the handsome young stud lying under him, enjoying the lustful expression on Dimitri’s face and the gleam in his blue eyes.

Dimitri’s cock met Marc’s expectations. It was long and thick, uncircumcised, and it stiffened the instant Marc grasped it in his hand and began to stroke it, urgently. Dimitri gasped in response to his touch.

“Oh, that feels good,” Dimitri said.

“Does it? I’m glad.”

Marc played with the hustler’s prick for a few minutes, until Dimitri was moaning with arousal. Then, lifting Dimitri’s legs high into the air, Marc pushed them backwards and wide apart. In this position, he could look down and see the hot entrance to the blond boy’s asshole, the pink sphincter muscle surrounded by a fine down of blond hairs. Moving forward, Marc positioned the thick, inflexible shaft of his cock against Dimitri’s anal opening, and he rubbed it slowly back and forth.

“I can’t wait to get in there,” Marc announced.

“Please … use a lot of lubrication,” Dimitri pleaded, in a voice hoarsened by lust and apprehension. “I don’t think I can take a cock as big as yours unless it’s greased up.”

“There’s no need to flatter me.”

“I’m not. You are big!”

Marc removed his fingers from Dimitri’s cock, and then he dropped his head down between the Russian’s thighs. He let his tongue tickle the blond’s furry balls for a few strokes, and then he let it go to work up and down Dimitri’s solidly muscled left thigh. Up and down Marc licked with his wet, slippery tongue, tasting the slightly salty flesh, savoring every stroke which he sent Dimitri’s way.

“Ah, that feels good,” Dimitri moaned. “I like the way you’re licking me. It’s getting me so fucking hot. I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all!”

Marc kept up his swift, determined tongue strokes against the other man’s thigh for a few more moments. Then he lapped at Dimitri’s other leg, wetting it from knee to groin. By then, Marc was more than ready to suck the blond stud’s asshole.

He pushed his tongue gently along Dimitri’s ass crack, found the puckered hole, and penetrated it slowly with his extended tongue. He began slowly, but soon he was inserting his tongue into that tempting ass with every bit of energy and conviction he could muster. In and out of the blond’s flexing sphincter he wielded his tongue probe, maneuvering it relentlessly about as it licked and teased the inside of Dimitri’s anus.

“Don’t stop. Keep sucking my ass,” Dimitri groaned, breathing hard, sweating, keeping his buttocks spread wide open for the other man’s mouth with both hands. “Oh fuck! Do it, rim me! Your tongue feels so good in there. You really know how to get my asshole hot!”

Marc’s tongue kept on working, gliding solidly against the asshole. A few quick, stabbing strokes later, he reached up with his right hand and began simultaneously to play with Dimitri’s cock. His fingers surrounded the steely column of flesh and stroked it from the base to the tip while he rimmed the blond’s asshole with undiminished relish, fucking it with his tongue. Marc pulled his mouth away from Dimitri’s ass, but only so that could lick Dimitri’s swollen testicles, as he continued to jerk him off.

“You really know how to use your mouth and tongue,” Dimitri told Marc, breathlessly. “Oh, I’m getting so excited … too excited. You’re going to make me come if you keep this up.”

It thrilled Marc to hear Dimitri talk that way, to know that his oral efforts were having such an arousing effect upon the hot young number. It didn’t surprise him, though, because he was used to having his sex partners go wild in bed and praise him while he serviced them. Selfish in so many other ways, Marc could be surprisingly unselfish in bed. He knew that when he concentrating on stimulating his partner, it paid off in terms of his own satisfaction in the long run. And so perhaps he was not motivated altogether by altruism.

Now, he pushed his tongue back and forth, thoroughly wetting the hustler’s hot balls with his drooling saliva, pushing Dimitri ever closer to the brink of orgasm. Marc’s fist pumped away steadily on Dimitri’s prickshaft while his tongue lashed away upon his tender nuts. Marc rubbed his tongue all over Dimitri’s balls.

“Oh, I can’t believe this,” Dimitri panted, feverishly. “This is so hot … you’re so hot. Come on, monsieur. Keep your tongue going on my nuts. Suck my ass again, if you want to. Get it wet for your dick to fuck. Yes, do it! Oh, rim me! Get that fucking tongue of yours in there, get it deep in my ass! Suck my ass. Oh, you’re getting me so hot. I’m just about there. Your tongue is going to do it for me, it really is. I think I’m about to come!”

A few deep, lunging strokes later, Dimitri’s asshole convulsed around Marc’s probing tongue. As Dimitri’s hips thrashed back and forth, Marc squeezed the head of the Russian boy’s dick with one hand and clutched one of his ass cheeks with the other. Marc held on firmly, jerking Dimitri’s cock and kneading his buttock, his tongue still planted deep in Dimitri’s anus. Then the jism spurted violently from the blond’s prick and sprayed everywhere.

Marc removed his tongue from Dimitri’s ass. He knew he had loosened up the young stud-for-hire and made him ready for more. The rimming was no more than a prelude, something to get Dimitri willing to be fucked. He reached out with his right index finger, letting it press hard and fast into Dimitri’s ass. At first he concentrated on the outer edges of the tight asshole, but soon he began pushing more deeply and insistently, finally driving his finger into the hole all the way. He maintained a stabbing rhythm, drilling his finger into Dimitri’s horny asshole to the knuckle.

“Yes … that’s right … finger my ass,” Dimitri gasped. “Oh, hell! Fuck me with your finger! Come on, give me a good finger fuck. Work it around inside my asshole. That always gets me hot. You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you? Not just with your finger, but with your prick?”

“You bet, boy,” Marc assured him.

He finger-fucked Dimitri’s pliant asshole for a few more strokes, and then he released his finger from the puckered aperture. He was more than ready by now to work his dick into the other guy’s tight, heated anus. He wanted to grind it in hard and fast, to drill Dimitri’s asshole with his cock until the fuck juice spurted from his embedded penis like so much molten lava.

“Now for the main event,” Marc declared. “And I have every intention of getting my money’s worth.”

He reached down and jerked on his dick several times, making sure it was fully erect and ready to penetrate an asshole. Next, he grabbed Dimitri’s thighs, lifting his legs once more, and resting them over his shoulders. As the blond man’s body shuddered, Marc smeared some of Dimitri’s own dribbled semen over the rim of his asshole, by way of a preliminary lubricant.

“Condom, please,” Dimitri pleaded. “I won’t fuck without it.”

“Good for you. Don’t worry. I’ve got everything we need right here.” Marc retrieved the box of rubbers and the bottle of lubricant from the nightstand. He quickly, deftly, gloved up his cock, and then he gave it a thorough swipe of the lube.

Now he was all set to ram his hot, horny prick into the Russian youth’s tight anus and screw him silly.

“Oh, my God,” Dimitri exclaimed, when he felt Marc’s wide, rounded cock knob push its way into his tight butt. He tried to squirm away from the phallic battering ram which was being forced into his anus. But his legs were being held firmly up in the air and wide apart by Marc’s hands, gripping his ankles. With a grunt, the married man slid half the length of his fuck tool into the male prostitute’s protesting asshole. Then he paused, while Dimitri got used to the fullness of the cock inside him.

“How does that feel? Okay?” Marc asked.

“Yes. Oh, you’re hung so big! You ought to work for the agency. You’d be popular.”

Marc had to laugh at this unexpected compliment. “Thanks.”

“Put it the rest of the way in me, now. Please.”

“Here goes,” Marc warned.

Dimitri shivered as another inch of the hard prickshaft was shoved by brute force into his widely stretched asshole. But it wasn’t as painful as he had feared it would be. Marc’s cock was in fact filling him up in a way which was more pleasurable and stimulating than uncomfortable. Bracing himself on the bed, relaxing his parted buttocks and his violated sphincter muscle, Dimitri waited.

He didn’t have to wait for very long. With a moan of pleasure, Marc leaned his weight forward, allowing the entire length of his lustful ramrod to sink between Dimitri’s muscular ass cheeks, penetrate his anal pucker, and slide up inside his anal canal. Dimitri’s pelvis was in exactly the right position, tilted back, to expose his asshole and make it accessible for a good long, hard reaming out by another man’s cock. And Marc took full advantage of the opportunity.

Thrilling to the sensation of the stiff dick penetrating deep into his asshole, Dimitri wrapped his legs around Marc’s waist. The broad, muscular chest of the other man pressed hard against Dimitri’s own pecs and nipples. Marc’s arms went around Dimitri’s back in a tight embrace, and his red, sensual lips opened wide to receive the boy’s exploring tongue. Now that he no longer needed to hold up Dimitri’s legs, Marc pushed his hands between the mattress and the small of Dimitri’s back, holding Dimitri firmly in place under him while they fucked, so that there was no chance of Dimitri being pushed across the bed and away from him by the forward thrusts Marc made with his penis.

With their bodies clamped tightly together, they humped. Marc sped up the pace of his fucking, gyrating his pelvis, rubbing his belly against Dimitri’s once again rigid cockshaft each time he lunged forward to fuck him hard and deep. The power of Marc’s muscular body excited Dimitri unbearably, making him pump his hips and butt upward to meet the cylinder of hard cock flesh which kept pistoning into him, thrust after thrust.

As the prick screwing his ass started to swell even thicker, and Marc’s stomach and balls slapped faster and harder against his upturned ass cheeks, Dimitri’s semen again began to rise in his prick, which was sandwiched between their bodies. His fingertips dug into Marc’s back, and his small, white teeth fastened onto his fucker’s lower lip, biting it, teasingly, not hard enough to break the skin. With a long, moaning wail, Dimitri started to come, shooting his jism for a second time in a long spasm of convulsive release.

Feeling Dimitri’s teeth nip into his lip and his fingers digging into his back, feeling Dimitri’s hot cum wet his chest, Marc started a shuddering series of rapid jabs into the blond boy’s ass. Just as Dimitri’s cock shot its spurting load of fluid between their twisting bodies, Marc stuffed his prickshaft as far as he could force it up into Dimitri’s anus, and then he let go with a volley of his own wet, thick bursts of semen. The flow was contained inside the condom Marc wore on his dick, but that didn’t diminish his sense of relief.

Sweating, straining, coming, the two mem remained locked in each other’s arms, the perspiration running in rivulets down Marc’s broad back. Then, with another grunt, he released his last jet of sperm, and he slowly began to sink down onto the jism-smeared, well-fucked body of the hustler who lay beneath him. Dimitri also began to relax, as his own spurts of cum died away to a trickle. He took his lips away from Marc’s mouth, letting his head fall to one side on the bed. Not just his burning asshole, but his entire body, smarted from the fierce fucking he had just received—but he had enjoyed it immensely.

“You’re a hot piece of ass,” Marc said, between deep, searing gasps for breath. He held onto Dimitri’s ass cheeks and continued to pump his cock between them. “You’re worth paying for. You should do very well at the agency.”

A few sluggish cock strokes later, Marc realized that he was spent, and he slowly pulled his still-erect prong out of Dimitri’s manhole. He got off the bed and went into the bathroom.

There, Marc stripped the cum-filled rubber from his prick and flushed it down the toilet.

A moment later, Dimitri joined him, standing in the doorway.

“Would you mind if I took a shower?” Dimitri asked.

“Not at all. Go right ahead. Everything you need should be right here.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Marc left Dimitri to it. He pulled his sweatpants back on, and then he went into the living room, where he poured himself another glass of wine.

He was sipping it when Dimitri came into the room, fully dressed.

“Do you want some more wine?” Marc asked.

Dimitri shook his head. “No, thank you. I’d better not. I’m driving.”

Marc smiled. “I suppose you have another appointment you’ve got to rush off to.”

“Oh, no. I told the agency—I can only see one client a night. Otherwise—I’d be too tired, the next day. I’m tired right now,” Dimitri admitted. “You wore me out.”

Marc laughed. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re a wonderful lover.”

“And you’re no slouch, yourself. Here.” Marc handed Dimitri the envelope. “This is a little extra for you.”

“Oh, thank you very much.” Dimitri took the envelope, but he had enough class not to open it or inspect the contents in front of Marc.

“You’re entirely welcome. I’ll ask for you again.”

“Please do.”

Marc escorted Dimitri to the door. They embraced and kissed. Then Dmitri left, and a moment later Marc heard him drive off.

Reseating himself on the couch, Marc enjoyed his wine. He was getting a pleasurable buzz on—a combination of post-sex fatigue and the alcohol he was consuming. It wasn’t late, for a Friday evening, but he decided he’d make an early night of it and go to bed soon.

He couldn’t prevent a smirk of self-satisfaction from curling his lips, underneath his immaculately trimmed mustache. Life was good!

Chapter Two: Caffeine and Cocaine

Marc had a great deal of disposable income. As a result, he tolerated his wife’s extravagances. Ghislaine loved clothes, jewelry, traveling, and entertaining. These pursuits kept her busy—which made it even less likely that she would suspect her husband of enjoying himself, too, but in secret.

But Marc didn’t hesitate to indulge himself in other ways, which his wife knew about. He had a weakness for “big boy toys”—cars, certainly, and gadgets. He had a taste for music. Just as he regularly traded in his car for a newer model, he upgraded his stereo equipment every few years.

He’d purchased a new system from a shop which offered full service. They’d deliver the equipment, and set it up. By coincidence, Marc had arranged the delivery for the weekend Ghislaine was in Paris.

And so, on that Saturday morning, he was still in a mellow mood after his hot Friday night session with Dimitri. He’d disconnected his old components, removed them from the bookshelves in the living room, and stowed them away in a closet. He hadn’t made any specific plans for them. He could keep them as a backup, sell them, or give them away.

When he heard a vehicle pull into the driveway, he glanced out a window to investigate. It was a van, with the stereo shop’s name and logo on its side. Marc went to open the door.

A huge young black man with bulging muscles, which were displayed to excellent advantage in the snug-fitting blue jumpsuit he wore, stood there, with a clipboard in one hand and his other hand extended toward the doorbell. Marc had forestalled him by opening the door before the guy had a chance to touch the bell.

“Monsieur Remy?”

“That’s me.”

“I have a delivery and setup for you.”

“Yes, I’m expecting that.”

As he spoke, Marc couldn’t help staring at the other man. He’d expected the shop to send on this errand—well, some sort of a stereo geek. Instead, this hulking number looked as though he was on his way to a bodybuilding competition!

He had a dark mahogany complexion, and he was handsome, with high, prominent cheekbones, full, round lips, and beautiful black eyes. His hair was cropped short, close to his scalp. In addition to the jumpsuit, he wore work boots on his feet. Marc found himself speculating what undergarments, if any, were underneath the jumpsuit. It was unzipped part of the way down the front, far enough to expose the twin swells of the guy’s pectoral muscles and the deep narrow groove between them.

The young black man seemed to be waiting for Marc to say something, and when Marc continued to look at him in silence, he finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No. But I ordered stereo components—not a personal trainer,” Marc joked. He realized, belatedly, that the other guy might be suspecting him of thinly veiled racism. Some of Marc’s neighbors might not be too happy to find a black man on their doorstep, whatever his errand. But Marc wasn’t one of them. And so he hastened to reassure his visitor. “Forgive me for staring. I didn’t mean to be rude. You took me by surprise, because to be perfectly frank, I wasn’t expecting anybody so large. That’s quite some build you’ve got there. Most impressive.”

The black stud relaxed.

“Thanks,” he said. “Some of the boxes can be kind of big and heavy. I’ll start hauling them inside.”

“Can I help?”

“No, it’s my job. I’ve got a two-wheeler to stack them on. It won’t take long. You might prop this door open, if there’s any way to do that.”

“No problem.”

The delivery man was efficient. Soon Marc had several large corrugated-cardboard cartons set on his living room floor, along with a tool box and another box containing a spool of heavy-gauge speaker cable.

The black guy took out a box cutter and, with great care, he began to slit open one of the cartons.

“This won’t take long,” he promised. “We’ll have you up and running in a jiffy.”

“Take your time. Say—I was about to make myself some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Marc busied himself in the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, carrying the coffee things on a tray, he saw that the cartons were already unpacked, and the gleaming steel-gray components, along with a pair of oversized speakers, were ready to be put in place.

“I assume you want these things here?” the delivery man asked, indicating the empty spaces on the shelf.

“Yes, please. But have your coffee, first. How do you take it?”

“Black, of course. How else?”

“Ah—here you go.” Somewhat at a loss for words, Marc handed the guy one of the filled mugs.

“Thanks. This is a nice neighborhood. A nice old house. I suppose you don’t have many of my kind, living around here?”

“Your kind?”

“North Africans,” the black man specified. “My grandparents were immigrants. Which means I’m the third generation, living here in Marseille.”

“You and a lot of others. Which also means you’re every bit as French as I am.”

“Thanks for saying that. When you first opened the door and saw me—”

“Oh.” Marc was flustered. “You got the wrong idea?”

“Maybe. I thought you were taken aback, finding a black dude on your doorstep. As I go about my business—some people are. I’ve even had them refuse to open the door.”

“You were mistaken, I assure you,” Marc insisted. “Truly, I didn’t mean to be rude. I wasn’t staring at you because of your skin color. I was staring at you—ah—”

“Yes?”

“Because you’re such a good-looking man. If I may say so without offense.”

“Oh, no offense taken. On the contrary. I’d much rather be admired and flattered, than have somebody look scared at the sight of me, as though I was about to mug him. This is really good coffee, by the way.”

“I’m glad you like it. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Albert.”

“And I’m Marc.”

“Yeah, I know. It says so on the work order. I’ll have a refill, if you don’t mind. And then I’ll get back to work, while I drink it.”

“Coming right up.”

In response to Albert’s inquiry, Marc showed him how he wanted the components to be lined up on the shelf. Next, Albert put the speakers on the shelf. From the spool, he cut two pieces of speaker cable of the appropriate length, and he began to strip the wires at the ends and attach banana plugs to them.

Marc observed this process. “I suppose I could do that myself, if I was mechanically inclined, and not all thumbs,” he commented, ruefully.

Albert laughed. “I’m a specialist. So why not let a professional do it for you? Trust me—when I’m done, you’ll have a really tight connection. Which can make a big difference, in a sound system. That’s a nice wedding ring you have on,” he added.

This sudden change of topic caught Marc off guard. “Thanks. I like it. And I see you’re wearing one, too.”

“Where’s your other half, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“She’s in Paris this weekend. Visiting friends—and buying clothes.”

“Spending your money?” Albert guessed.

“Right and left, no doubt.”

Albert nodded. “I can relate. They tend to be high maintenance, don’t they?”

“Very.”

“Your wife doesn’t mind you blowing so much money on this equipment?”

“She doesn’t have any say in the matter,” Marc bragged.

“Good for you. So … she’s left you all on your own, this weekend?”

“Until tomorrow evening, yes.”

“Well, at least you’ll be able to play some music, to entertain yourself. In fact, you’re all plugged in, and ready to go. If you’ve got a CD handy, we can check it out. And then we can see what your radio reception is like.”

Marc went to the shelf where his CDs were stored, lined up in a long row. He selected one, more or less at random—a recording of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.

“This has some sections that are good and loud,” he said, as he handed the plastic jewel case to Albert.

“Oh, do you like classical music?”

“I like a lot of different kinds of music, but, yes, sometimes I’m in the mood for the heavy, serious stuff.”

“Me, too.” Albert loaded the disc into the player, and then he handed Marc the remote control. “Do the honors,” he invited. “You’ve got fresh batteries in there.”

Marc pressed the play button on the remote, and a moment later the room was filled with brassy fanfares, emerging from the two wide-spaced new speakers.

“Wow,” Marc exclaimed. “Impressive.”

“Turn up the volume a notch,” Albert suggested. “Let’s make sure there isn’t any distortion, at high levels. Yeah … that sounds nice and clean … and you’ve got plenty of bass.”

Marc tested the receiver’s radio reception. Then, after pronouncing himself satisfied, he switched back to the CD.

Albert retrieved his clipboard. “Then, if you’re all set—if you’ll just sign here—I’ll be on my way. Here’s your warranty, and your instruction manual. I’ll haul away the boxes and the packing material, if you want me to. That’s all part of the service.”

“Must you rush off?” Marc asked, as he signed his name.

“Well—technically, I’m on my lunch hour, now. And then I have another delivery to make. Why? Is there something else I can do for you?”

“I can think of one or two things,” Marc said, suggestively. “I hate to see you go. I’ve enjoyed your company. And I can’t help thinking I’m getting a certain vibe from you.”

“Isn’t that interesting? Because, all this time, I’ve been getting a certain vibe from you.”

“I wonder, Albert, what else we might have in common. Besides our interest in music.”

“I’m on the down low,” Albert admitted, bluntly. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. Do you like black dick?”

“I like all kinds of dick.”

“So do I, but I have to admit—hot white dudes really turn me on. And you are one hell of a hot white dude!”

“That’s good to hear. If you’ve got an hour to kill—how’d you like to do some coke, and then play around a little?”

“I’d like that just fine.”

“Wait here. I’ll get my stash.”

Marc went into his office and opened the wall safe. He took out a vial of high-grade cocaine, a small mirror, a short metal straw, and a razor blade. Returning to the living room, he set the items out on the coffee table.

“You’re quite the accommodating host,” Albert remarked, as he watched Marc arrange the lines of coke on the surface of the mirror.

“I try to be. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon—getting high, listening to good music, and getting laid,” Marc declared, salaciously. “Go on, be my guest. Take a snort. It’s good stuff.”

Albert snorted the coke, and then he handed the straw to Marc, who took a hit himself.

“Aw, hell,” Albert exclaimed. “This is some really good shit!”

“Take some more,” Marc invited him.

“I’m going to have to drive, afterward,” Albert protested. “And install some other guy’s new stereo system! I can’t be stoned, when I do that.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right,” Marc said, recklessly. “You can probably drive, and install components, in your sleep. Right now, though, I want you to be wide awake … yeah, wide awake, and horny. Come on. Let’s take this into my bedroom.”

He took Albert by the hand and half-led, half-dragged him into the bedroom. There, the Mahler symphony was still audible, coming from the living room.

“Music to Fuck By,” Marc joked. “Let’s get undressed. I want to see you naked. I want to touch you—!”

Quickly, eagerly, the two men stripped.

“Fuck! Look at you,” Albert said, staring at Marc’s nude body. “You are one goddamn pretty white man.”

“And you’re magnificent. Black and beautiful,” Marc told him. “And what a physique! I want you—so bad—come here—!” Climbing onto the bed, Marc spread his arms and legs wide, offering himself to the other man. His cock rose from his groin, pointing itself at the ceiling. “Yeah—oh, yeah!” Marc gloated, when Albert joined him on the bed.

The drug was having its inevitable effect upon both men, neither of whom was particularly inhibited even when cold sober.

“Before we get too carried away—I want you to understand I’m not gay,” Albert insisted.

“Of course not.”

“I just need some dick, every now and then.”

“I understand completely. Help yourself to my dick, if you think it’ll do you any good.”

“Shit,” Albert moaned. “I can’t help it—I’ve got to have it!”

Quickly, Albert wriggled his way on top of Marc’s reclining body, pushing himself down between Marc’s open legs. Marc relaxed, enjoying the sensation of having another man make love to him, rather than taking the more aggressive role himself. Albert, he could tell, was getting very excited because of the coke, and Marc could feel the big black stud’s cock pressing hard against his own stiffening penis. Albert’s hands were running over Marc’s body, over his arms and chest, sliding down to caress the flat, firm plateau of his stomach.

“Nice abs,” Albert breathed, in a husky voice. “You’ve got one hell of a beautiful body, man. It’s firm and hard. And I like my men to be firm and hard. Everywhere.” All the while, Albert’s dark hands continued to explore Marc’s paler flesh, and he pressed down on the white man’s body with his own, jabbing at Marc’s groin with his own solid cock.

Marc grunted, and closed his eyes, sinking back into the mattress. Warm lips brushed over his naked chest, hungrily sucking at his nipples until they hardened into twin points of rigid tit flesh. Then the mouth roamed down to Marc’s navel, into which an agile, and very wet and slippery tongue, was inserted.

Marc raised his behind from the bed to cooperate when the busy hands cupped both of his buttocks and hefted his crotch higher, pulling it against Albert’s chest and throat as the big man licked him. Albert had a magnificently proportioned body, the flesh softly rounded over the steely muscles, and he also possessed a long, thick prick, which now stuck up stiffly from its surrounding wreath of sparse, coarse pubic hair. With his eyes still closed, Marc enjoyed the feel of the other man’s body, rubbing restlessly against his own.

“Firm and hard, everywhere,” Albert repeated. “Especially here—!”

Lying perfectly still for the time being, Marc opened his drugged eyelids halfway and watched his husky black sex partner bend over and apply his wet mouth to his dick. Albert flexed his muscles and emitted a moan of lust, his insistently sucking lips stimulating Marc’s long, limp prickshaft into sudden, complete rigidity. His oral efforts coaxed a clear drop of pre-cum from the puckered piss slit in the quivering glans, a drop which Albert eagerly lapped up. With a muffled cry of passion, Albert squeezed Marc’s buttocks, and the white man responded by once again pushing his body up from the bed. Then Albert really went to work, sucking the wet, swollen knob of Marc’s cock, running his tongue rapidly up and down the length of pulsating fuck rod.

He made a complete meal of, burying his face in Marc’s pubic hair, darting his tantalizing tongue underneath Marc’s large, heavy scrotum, savoring to the full the smell and taste of Marc’s crotch.

Finally, though, Albert wrenched his face away.

“Fucked,” he gasped. “I want to get fucked!”

“I’ll fuck you,” Marc promised.

“Then get a rubber on that thing of yours, and shove it in me, quick. I’ll sit on it.”

Hastily, Marc put a condom on his cock, and then he coated the latex with a slippery coating of lube. Lying flat on his back on the bed, he grabbed the two pillows from the head of it and stuffed them, one on top of the other, under his head and shoulders, to raise them from the mattress.

Albert squatted over Marc’s groin. Reaching down and catching hold of Marc’s hotly aroused cock, Albert stuffed it between his exceptionally hard-muscled buttocks, pushing the slippery, latex-protected cock knob against the rim of his asshole. For a moment, he carefully adjusted his position, flexing his knees, and he rotated his bottom so that the lubricated tip of Marc’s erection rubbed against his tiny, puckered anal orifice. Then, grabbing hold of both of his own butt cheeks, Albert pulled them wide apart, and—letting out a strangulated cry of satisfaction—he sank down on the other man’s huge, vibrating tool.

“All the way,” he demanded. “Shove it all the way up into me, man! Yeah, that’s right. Let me sit on it, motherfucker. Let me ride it. You just lie there, buddy. I’ll do all the work!”

Marc, closing his eyes again in ecstasy, knew that his cock was about to be coaxed to ejaculation and drained of its load by the black stallion’s tight, hot, gripping asshole. Albert continued to ride Marc’s cock. As he pushed his butch ass up and down on Marc’s hard, close-to-bursting prick, both men shuddered in involuntary lustful response.

“Plow me, white boy,” Albert urged.

“Oh, you’re got a really hot ass!” Marc moaned.

“Glad you like it. Fuck it! Fuck it, baby. Fuck it hard, and fuck it deep.”

“Close,” Marc warned, in a throaty whisper. “I’m really getting close!” As his climax was brought nearer by each downward plunge of the other man’s rear end, he began to moan, incoherently.

“Don’t move. Let me do all the work. Let me ride it, Aw, fuck!” Albert exulted. “That thing of yours is really going in deep. Just the way I like it!”

Then, Albert, horny and stoned, fell silent, lost in his own sensations. Thrilled by the feeling of the long, thick cock stuck up into his rectum, and by the sight of Marc’s pale, muscular, naked body writhing under him on the bed, the black guy furiously masturbated himself while he plunged his butt up and down, the fleshy spheres of his ass cheeks clenched tightly around Marc’s potent cock.

“My dick feels like it’s about to explode,” Albert reported. “I can’t hold it back.”

“Don’t try to hold it back. Go ahead and come. And when you do, spray your goddamn load all over me,” Marc invited the other man. “Let me have it all. Wet me down with it.”

“You’re a dirty fuck, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea!”

“Shit!”

They both came together, Marc’s muscles tautening visibly in front of Albert’s wide-open, staring eyes. The tension was a warning sign. A moment later, Albert felt an extra pressure and degree of throbbing deep within his asshole, and he knew that Marc must be ejaculating, depositing his load of cum into the reservoir tip of the rubber encasing his dick. At the same time, Albert, too, ejaculated, splashing his rich white cream all over Marc’s sweaty, heaving chest.

“Shit!” Albert shouted. “That’s right, you fucker. Come in my ass!”

“You’re getting it—you’re getting it all,” Marc gasped.

With a sigh, Marc began to relax after his orgasm. But his partner wasn’t finished with him just yet. Bending forward, Albert began to lick greedily at the residue of his own cum on Marc’s pecs and nipples, not stopping until he had lapped up all of it. Then he levered himself gingerly forward and allowed Marc’s big, still-stiff cock to slide out of his ass. Albert peeled the condom off Marc’s prick and tossed it aside. Then he applied his mouth to the hot, cum-smeared, pulsating fuck tool which had just been up his ass.

Marc had by now opened his eyes, and he watched, lazily, while the insatiable Albert licked and sucked him, until his penis was completely clean.

But still Albert wasn’t satisfied. He sat up on the bed and began to jerk his own prick, quite roughly.

“Motherfucking thing,” he mumbled. “It just doesn’t want to go down!”

“Don’t tell me you’re still horny,” Marc protested. “And that you’re going to come again?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, feel free to jack off. I can watch. It’s kind of hot, seeing you do that, if fact. I’d prefer to join you. But I can’t promise I can get mine hard, or keep it hard, again. Not so soon after coming. But if you’re willing to wait—”

“How’d you like to do something for me?” Albert panted. “Something different … something special.”

“Sounds interesting. What, exactly?”

“Something really dirty.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like to get a little freaky, sometimes. I like to be pissed on. Are you into water sports?”

Marc shrugged. “I’m open-minded. If that’s what you’re into, I’m willing to give it a shot. Not in here, though, obviously. In the bathroom.”

Marc hadn’t suspected that Albert was into anything kinky. But Marc was open-minded, so he led Albert into the bathroom. They used the bathtub rather than the shower stall, because there was more room. Albert sat down in the bottom of the tub, his dark skin vividly contrasted to the gleaming white porcelain. He leaned back, and he stared up at Marc, imploringly.

“Get in here with me,” Albert urged. “Stand over me.”

Carefully, Marc stepped into the tub and stood astride the sprawling stud. Albert had turned out to be such a satisfying sex partner that Marc was now quite willing to accommodate him. In fact, the more Marc thought about it, the more excited he felt at the prospect of trying something different.

“That’s right,” Albert told Marc, looking and sounding even more aroused. “Piss on me, man. Piss all over me, and into my fucking mouth, too. Do it! Please!”

After his strong orgasm, Marc need to take a good, long piss, anyway.

It was a little while before he could comply with Albert’s request, though, because his cock was still stiff. Eventually, however, Marc’s bladder relaxed and the first thin stream of urine came out of his expanded piss slit, soon turning into a flood. He directed his dick expertly so that his piss splashed all over Albert’s sweat-shiny ebony torso, and then he concentrated the flow on his trick’s eager face, soaking his hair.

Next, Marc shuffled forward a bit and bent his knees so that his genitals were right above Albert’s face. Sticking his dick in between the other guy’s waiting, parted lips, he pissed abundantly into Albert’s mouth and throat, until he heard Albert choke on it. Albert came again, without even touching himself, his cock spurting its jets of frothy jism high up into the air behind Marc, so that drops of it rained down upon his back and butt.

“Fuck!” Marc shouted. “Oh, fuck!”

Chapter Three: Marital Duties

After his encounters with Dimitri and Albert, Marc needed some rest.

He slept late on Sunday, went out for brunch, and then he spent the afternoon reading and listening to music on his new stereo system. He also went through the house, making sure that no evidence of his weekend debaucheries was visible.

That evening, Marc drove to the railroad station, to pick up his wife.

“Ah, look at all the shopping bags and boxes!” he pretended to complain, as Ghislaine emerged from the train car.

“I only bought a few things,” she protested.

“Yes, a few hundred, as I see.”

“And these aren’t all for me. I found a few things for you, too. Wait until you see the beautiful neckties I bought for you.”

“I can’t wait. But the important thing is—did you have a good time?”

“Oh, the best, Marc! Except for the fact that you weren’t with me. Next time—you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Maybe I will,” Marc said, evasively.

“Did you miss me?”

“Terribly,” he lied. “Every moment.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll start by making you a nice dinner, as soon as we get home.”

“But you must be tired, after spending more than three hours on that train. We can stop at a restaurant.”

“No, I’ll cook for you,” Ghislaine insisted.

Marc had to admit that, when his wife chose to exercise her domestic skills, she was good at it. Upon their arrival home, Ghislaine went into action. After getting dinner started, she started unpacking and putting away her Paris purchases. Like her husband, she was a good cook. But on this occasion, she firmly refused to let him help.

“I know you must have felt neglected while I was away,” she said.

“Neglected, yes.” Marc fought to keep the irony from becoming audible in his voice.

“Well, now I’m going to make it up to you. I’m going to spoil you.”

“I don’t mind being spoiled,” Marc agreed, lazily.

During the meal, Ghislaine told him how she’d amused herself in Paris, and told him the latest news and gossip about some of their mutual friends who lived there.

“And your weekend?” she asked, at last.

“Oh, it was uneventful,” Marc lied. “Which was good, in a way. I had a chance to relax and rest up. Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. The new stereo system was delivered. I’m very pleased with it, so far.”

“Good. I suppose I’m better off being a music widow than a golf widow,” Ghislaine teased him. “At least listening to records and the radio keeps you here at home, and out of trouble.”

“Who, me? I wouldn’t know how to get into trouble, if I tried.”

After dinner, Ghislaine excused herself, to get out of her traveling clothes and to soak in a hot bath.

Marc was in the living room, enjoying another cup of coffee and listening to a recording of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, when his wife rejoined him. She wore a floor-length jonquil-yellow silk peignoir, trimmed in pale green lace, over a matching slip. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup and her natural blonde hair falling down loose over her shoulders, she looked truly stunning.

Marc studied her, with genuine pride and admiration.

He was a bisexual, though with a pronounced preference for his own sex. Nonetheless, he wasn’t altogether immune to female beauty. He appreciated the fact that Ghislaine was everything most men could desire in a wife. She was beautiful, sophisticated, a good housekeeper, and a charming hostess. The latter quality was especially important for the spouse of a man in Marc’s position. He knew that other men envied him.

It was true that Ghislaine could be a bit flighty and scatter-brained, and she was undeniably extravagant. But Marc could afford to pay for her extravagances, quite apart from the fact that she came from a good family and had brought money of her own to their marriage. And she had a good heart. He could have fared much worse.

“Let me guess,” he said, at last. “That’s new?”

“Yes. Isn’t it lovely?”

“It is. But your drawers and the closets are already full of such stuff.”

“I like to look pretty … especially when it’s just the two of us, at home at night, getting ready to go to bed.”

“You’d look just as pretty naked,” Marc retorted, salaciously. “I always sleep in the nude. Why can’t you?”

“It’s different with a man. A man looks sexy in bed, in the nude. A woman just looks—well, slutty, and lacking in mystery.”

“Mystery, ma cherie, is highly overrated.”

“According to you men. That’s why you like to look at porn, with nothing left to the imagination. More coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“I think I’ll go to bed, then. Are you going to listen to the rest of your opera?”

“No.” Marc took the remote control and stopped the playback of the recording. “Not tonight. After all, I know how it turns out. He goes straight to hell, because he’s fucked so many women. An unfair punishment, if you ask me.”

“Oh? What should his punishment have been?”

“Marriage,” Marc quipped. “He should have been forced to marry every single one of his conquests. Trust me, that would be the end of all his screwing around.”

“Oh, you beast!”

In the bedroom, Marc unselfconsciously stripped. He used the bathroom, and then he returned to the bedroom, where Ghislaine was already sitting up in the bed.

“I’ve set the alarm,” she said.

“Thanks. Are you ready for me to turn out the light?”

“Yes, Marc.”

Marc flipped a switch, which extinguished the lamps on the nightstands on either side of the bed. The room was plunged into a soothing darkness.

“You aren’t tired, are you?” Ghislaine whispered.

“Not particularly.” Marc knew what his wife’s question implied. She was offering him sex. Somewhat to his surprise, considering the erotic excesses he’d indulged in during the weekend, he wasn’t particularly tired. He knew he could rise to the occasion. And he might as well get it over with. A good screwing invariably kept Ghislaine satisfied for several days—often, for as long as a week. Women were strange!

Dutifully, he went through the preliminaries, embracing her, kissing her. She had taken off the peignoir before she’d gotten into the bed, and now his hands traced the contours of her body through the thin material of the slip.

“Maybe I ought to tear this overpriced rag right off you,” he threatened, playfully.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then you’d better take it off, before it gets cum stains all over it.”

“Marc! Must you be so crude! Sometimes you talk almost like—”

“Almost like what?”

“I don’t know. Almost like a common laborer, I guess. You know. The kind of rough, dirty, working-class man who fucks his wife like an animal.”

“Maybe you’d enjoy that,” he suggested. “Just as I might enjoy screwing the kind of fat, homely, working-class wife who stays at home and is constantly pregnant.”

“Well, if that’s your fantasy—don’t let me stand in your way.” Ghislaine wriggled out of the slip. “Unless you’re willing to settle for this,” she breathed, taunting her husband, displaying her nude body on the bed.

Groaning, Marc lay on top of her, his heavily-breathing, hard-muscled chest resting upon her luscious soft breasts. His lips pressed tightly against hers and his tongue slowly, lasciviously entered her mouth. His steely-hard dick rested between her legs, only inches away from her cunt.

Ghislaine’s breathing was accelerating, too. As their bodies rubbed restlessly together, she reached over to the nightstand and slid open its top drawer, taking out a tube of water-based lubricant. Before she could unscrew the cap, though, Marc gently took hold of her wrist.

“Maybe, tonight … instead of using that … we can find some other way to make my cock nice and wet and slippery for you,” he whispered.

“Oh? What do you mean?” Ghislaine asked.

“You can put it your mouth and suck on it a little, first.”

“You know I don’t like that, Marc.”

“You might learn to like it, of you’d just give it a try.”

“You’re too big,” Ghislaine protested.

Despite his sexual tension, Marc managed to laugh. “That’s flattering to hear. But I’m not asking you to go down on me all the way, and deep-throat me, like some porn actress. All you have to do is put it inside your mouth and play around with it a little, with your lips and your tongue.”

“I’m sure I’d choke on it.”

“No, you won’t. Not if you just relax and take it easy, a little bit at a time. Come on, Ghislaine. Be a sport. You can’t imagine how good it feels, to get a really hot blow job.”

“No, I can’t imagine that—not being a man,” she pointed out. “But you sound awfully eager, all of a sudden. How do you know what it feels like?”

Marc was momentarily unnerved by the question. But he quickly regained his composure.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a virgin when we got married, you know,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone of voice light and casual—even flippant. “It’s been a long while, but there’s nothing wrong with my memory.”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk about any of those slutty girlfriends you had before we got engaged,” Ghislaine said, primly. “I wasn’t a virgin, either. But I don’t regale you with bedtime stories about how good my lovers were, and how much I miss what they did to me. All that’s ancient history now.”

Marc decided that he’d be wise to change the subject, and fast.

“Then let me go down on you,” he suggested. “You always like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” his wife admitted, a bit shamefacedly. “I do. I can’t help myself. You’re so good at it. It always makes me feel so good.”

My point, exactly! Marc wanted to say. But he restrained himself.

“Give me a taste of that hot, sweet pussy of yours,” he coaxed.

“Oh, Marc … you’re really turned on tonight, aren’t you? Going without sex all weekend long—it’s obviously made you extra horny.”

“Obviously,” Marc replied, with a smirk. Yeah, he thought. I’ve gone without sex all weekend long, all right! Poor me!

Ghislaine caught her breath with a gasp and began to squirm about on the bed as her husband reached down between her thighs and began to play with her pussy.  His fingertips pried apart her labia, gently, and then they penetrated her slit. She felt herself spasm helplessly as Marc worked one fingertip back and forth inside her. At the same time, the ball of his thumb touched her clit and began to rub it, until the tiny blade of flesh responded to the pressure by stiffening and quivering against his thumb.

Next, Marc buried his face in the warmth between her legs. He kissed her cunt, his tongue licking rapidly up and down within its groove, moving in sure, skilled swipes. Ghislaine felt her pussy opening, surrendering itself to the probing of her husband’s tongue. When his tongue slid deep inside her, she gripped his hair with both of her hands and held his face pressed against her cunt. His mustache tickled and tormented her clit, and his tongue drilled deeper into her. Each time he slurped and licked at her flesh, she moaned and shuddered, in a near-orgasmic ecstasy.

When he finally pulled his tongue out of her pussy and took his lips away from the seething aperture, she thought she might faint.

He repositioned himself on his knees between her legs. Breathing hard, he took his cock in his hand, bending it down and stroking it.

He had a vivid mental image—a flashback—of Albert, there in the bed with him. Sitting on his dick. Getting ready to spray his semen all over Marc. It wasn’t the most appropriate thing for a man to be thinking about, while he was getting ready to fuck his wife. Perversely, though, the memory of his sex with the black man only heightened Marc’s excitement.

“You’d better be ready,” Marc warned Ghislaine. “Now that you’ve got me all worked up.”

“Oh, yes … I’m ready,” she gasped. “I can’t wait. I’m so hot and wet down there!”

“Say it,” he commanded, gruffly. “Tell me you want to be fucked!”

“Yes … go ahead. Fuck me, Marc. I want to be fucked!”

“You’re going to get it.”

Why won’t she suck me? All I’m asking for is a goddamn blow job! Marc could feel himself seething internally with a secret resentment, as he began to push his cockhead between Ghislaine’s legs and against the lips of her pussy. And this once-a-week screwing is starting to turn into a chore. It’s not as though I ever really get off on it! All I’m doing is providing stud service.

As he often did when he fucked his wife, he permitted his thoughts to wander. He relived the hot sex he’d enjoyed, first on Friday evening with Dimitri, and then on Saturday with Albert.

Damn! he gloated. Either one of those studs would’ve satisfied me. Having both of them, one right after the other, was kind of greedy of me. I don’t know which one was better—that pretty blond Russian whore, or that big black muscle stud!

Too bad I couldn’t have both of them at once. Yeah … imagine that, how hot it would be. A sandwich fuck, with me in between the two of them! Both of the horny, hung bastards using me at once. Taking turns with my holes. White cock in my mouth, black cock in my ass. Black cock in my mouth, white cock in my ass. Fucking my face and my ass, really reaming me out. Damn!

Marc’s cockshaft was driving in and out of his wife’s wet, slippery cunt. Gasping for breath, Ghislaine threw her legs up over his shoulders and she clung to him, her immaculately manicured fingernails digging into his back.

“Oh, God, Marc!” she gurgled. “You’re really behaving like a wild man tonight!”

“Do you like it?” Marc demanded.

“I love it! You must have missed me, while I was away.”

Yeah, I missed you, all right, Marc wanted to say, sarcastically. I missed you so much that I can’t wait until you go out of town again, so I can get some more cock.

But maybe, if I play my cards right—if I’m careful—I won’t have to wait. I may be able to play around behind her back, without her ever suspecting a thing.

Until such an opportunity presented itself, though, he was going to have to go on performing his marital duty. And so, as he continued to plow his wife’s pussy, he gritted his teeth and concentrated on the fuck. It was just another household chore, really. And so, the sooner he got it over and done with, the better.

Chapter Four: The Observant Neighbor

Ghislaine and Marc were having breakfast on Monday morning.

“Don’t forget our dinner party, on Thursday night,” Ghislaine said.

“I won’t. Can I do anything to help?”

“Of course not. The caterers will do the cooking and the serving, as usual. I’ve ordered the flowers, for the table. Everything’s under control. All I need you to do is sit at your end of the table looking handsome and acting charming. Oh, and I’ve invited the Dumonts.”

“Who?”

“The Dumonts. Renaud and Marie. Our next door neighbors, for heaven’s sake.”

“Oh. I’d forgotten their last name,” Marc admitted. “We really don’t know them very well.”

“No, we don’t. I feel guilty about that. They had us over for drinks when they first moved in, and we’ve never reciprocated. This will give us a chance to make up for that, and to get to know them better.”

“The wife is kind of a mousy little thing, isn’t she?” Marc remarked. “Maybe you ought to take her in hand and give her some tips about clothes and hairstyles and makeup.”

“That’s not such a bad idea, in all seriousness. And Renaud—he seems rather shy and bookish. You could help him to come out of his shell.”

Marc laughed. “Yes, as trendsetters, it’s our responsibility to help the socially and the stylistically impaired.”

“Just be nice to them,” Ghislaine urged her husband.

“What else?” he protested.

Marc always thought of his wife’s dinner parties as a performance. The stage would be set. He and Ghislaine would put on their costumes. Their guests would arrived and make up the audience. Marc and Ghislaine always entertained them with wine and liquor, a lavish meal, and lively conversation. Eventually, the curtain came down, the audience went home, and the theater was darkened. The actors retired to their dressing room, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

On this occasion, at least, Marc could distract himself by studying their neighbors, the Dumonts. Marie Dumont was pretty but pale, and not particularly extroverted or glamorous. Ghislaine, like the experienced and resourceful hostess she was, encouraged Marie to join in the conversation, and even to talk about herself—a major coup, Marc suspected. By the time they sat down to dinner, Marie was positively animated.

Her husband, Renaud, was a blandly good-looking young man, fair of complexion, and with ginger-colored hair. He smiled a lot, but he, too, had to be coaxed out of his reticence and encouraged to talk about himself. Marc assigned himself this task, and his efforts seemed to be successful.

The Dumonts, like the Remys, had no children.

No wonder, Marc told himself, cynically. He’s not exactly a stud. And she seems a bit delicate, even fragile. One good orgasm would probably kill her! Something tells me he does more than his share of beating off. I know a frustrated guy, when I see one.

After dinner, the guests circulated freely throughout the house. Marc found himself alone with Renaud in the kitchen. He refreshed Renaud’s drink.

“I have a shameful secret,” Renaud said.

“Do tell.”

“I smoke. I’m dying for a cigarette, but I wouldn’t dream of lighting up anywhere in here. Do you mind if I slip outside for a few minutes?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ll come with you, and keep you company.”

The two men went outside, where they strolled back and forth in the small garden, while Renaud smoked.

“It’s a nice party,” he told his host. “I know Marie is enjoying herself. Your wife obviously enjoys entertaining.”

“It’s her vocation in life,” Marc said, drily. “That, and shopping.”

“Ghislaine seems to go out of town a great deal,” Renaud remarked.

“Does she? Yes, I suppose she does. You see—she has so many friends who live in other cities, and they all like to have house parties, and entertain visitors from out of town—for a weekend, or longer. I can’t always go with her, of course, because of my work.”

“Of course. But you seem to have a lot of friends, too.”

“Do I?”

“Well, I only say that because … every time Ghislaine goes out of town … you seem to have your men friends, dropping in.”

Instantly, an alert went off, inside Marc’s head.

“Some of them are guys I work with,” he said—which wasn’t true. The only times he ever invited his colleagues to the house was when Ghislaine gave a party and included them on the guest list.

“Sure.”

“You’re very observant, Renaud. It’s odd. In all the time you and I have lived next door to each other, I’ve never gone out of my way to keep track of the comings and goings at your house.”

Renaud was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s not as though I’ve been spying on you, Marc, for God’s sake. But naturally, when I’m home, I do look out the windows—and I do notice certain things.”

“My friends keep me company, when Ghislaine is away.”

“Which is very thoughtful of them. All I’m saying—in my clumsy way—is that maybe you’ve thought I’ve been rather standoffish, Marc. Of course, my work keeps me busy, just as yours does. But we are neighbors. I’m always thought you and I should get to know each other better.”

“That’s occurred to me, too. I have an idea,” Marc suggested. “The next time Ghislaine goes on one of her trips—why don’t you come over, so we can spend some guy time together?”

“I’d like that.”

“Your wife won’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s a date, then. A man date,” Marc added, flippantly. “Just us two guys—hanging out together.”

Renaud had finished his cigarette. They went back indoors.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Marc continued to play to perfection his role of smiling, considerate host. Inside, though, he was in turmoil.

Without being at all obvious about it, he kept scrutinizing Renaud, wondering exactly how much his neighbor had observed—and what conclusions he’d drawn as a result of what he’d seen.

Shit! Marc told himself, feverishly. The son of a bitch is on to me! He suspects … he suspects what I’ve been up to, while Ghislaine’s away. God damn!

Maybe he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him.

It’s funny, though. Tonight, for the first time, I got sort of a gay vibe from him. I never felt anything like that with him before. It’s almost as though he’s got a crush on me … as though he’s jealous of my other “friends.” Of all the guys I’ve been fucking around with!

Maybe he wishes he was one of them—?

Could he be bi, too? If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that just about everybody is potentially bi, given the right circumstances. And some are a lot more susceptible than others!

He is kind of cute. I could do worse. If I have to put out for him to keep him quiet—hell, why not? It might be fun. And a mutually beneficial arrangement.

But we’d have to be awfully damn careful. We’d have to make sure neither of our wives suspects anything!

Another juggling act—!

The guests began taking their leave, in pairs. Marc and Ghislaine escorted Renaud and Marie to the door.

“Guess what?” Ghislaine said, brightly. “I’m going to take Marie somewhere nice for lunch on Saturday. And then we’re going to spend the afternoon shopping.”

Marc smiled. “That strange twinge you feel, Renaud, is your bank account tensing up in self-defense, in anticipation of having its balance reduced, dramatically.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate, Marc!” Ghislaine protested. “I know where to find the best deals. I’m going to show Marie how to save money, in the long run. Anyway, you husbands will be left to your own devices.”

“We’ll find some way to amuse ourselves—preferably without going into debt,” Marc said, smoothly. “As a matter of fact, Renaud and I were talking about getting together, soon. Why don’t we do it on Saturday? You can come over here, Renaud, and we’ll hang out while the girls are out doing their thing.”

Renaud positively beamed. “I’d like that, Marc.”

Yeah, I bet you would, Marc thought, rather sourly. I seem to have made a conquest, all right! Just what I don’t need—a frigging bromance with my next door neighbor! It’ll give me a chance to sound out the guy, though … and find out just how much of a threat he is. But he continued to smile.

When all the guests had gone, Marc and Ghislaine began to tidy up.

“We can leave the rest for tomorrow,” Ghislaine declared, at one point. “I think the evening was a success, if I do say so myself.”

“Your parties are always successful. They all had a good time. The food was great, as usual. And it was nice of you to make that date with Marie.”

“She could use a makeover—but I like her. I only hope you won’t be too bored, entertaining Renaud all by yourself. He seems like the quiet type.”

“Oh, we’ll find something to talk about,” Marc said, vaguely. “Something to do. I flatter myself that I can get along with all sorts of men.”

On Saturday, the two wives, chattering away like a couple of eager schoolgirls, drove off on their adventure.

Marc showed Renaud his new stereo setup, which provided a suitably neutral subject for conversation.

“Let me know when you get hungry,” Marc said. “We can go somewhere for lunch. Or we can stay here, and I’ll fix us something. We can watch the soccer match on TV.”

“Well, we’re both kind of dressed down,” Renaud pointed out.

“Yeah. After having to dress up all week, I like to be comfortable when I’m at home on the weekend.”

“I really don’t feel like changing clothes. Why don’t we stay here?”

“Sure. I’ll open a bottle of wine. And go ahead and smoke, if you want to. I’ll find something you can use as an ashtray.”

“Smoke? Here? Inside the house?”

“Why not?”

“If Ghislaine smells it when she comes home, she might give you a hard time.”

“Unless you’re the kind of chain-smoker who lights up one from the smoldering butt of another, the fumes will have dissipated long before the girls get back. And here in my own house, when I’m on my own—well, I’ve been known to do any number of things which my wife might disapprove of, if she knew about them.” Marc handed Renaud a filled wine glass. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. So tell me, Marc—”

“Yes?”

“Do you keep a lot of secrets from your wife?”

“Hell, yes,” Marc admitted, without shame. “What man doesn’t? It’s the only way to have a successful marriage.”

The two men sat down and drank their wine, and Renaud smoked.

“This is kind of awkward, Marc,” Renaud said, haltingly. “But … if I asked you a very personal question, would you be offended?”

“I’m not easily offended. Ask away.”

“Anything the two of us talk about—it stays here, doesn’t it?”

“Of course. It’ll be our secret,” Marc agreed.

“Are you faithful to Ghislaine?”

“No.”

“You say that so casually!” Renaud exclaimed.

“It’s a fact. It’s nothing to be proud about, I suppose. But it’s not necessarily something to be ashamed of, either. Not all marriages are alike. They can require different things to make them work.”

“Does Ghislaine know you cheat on her?”

“No.”

“She’s so beautiful. I’m surprised that—I don’t know quite how to put it.”

“You’re surprised that she isn’t enough to satisfy me. Is that it?”

“I guess so.”

“Let’s talk about your marriage for a moment. Do you ever cheat on Marie?”

“Every chance I get,” Renaud blurted out.

Marc had to laugh. “Why, you sly dog, you! I’ve got to admit it, buddy—you don’t look like the type. I suppose there’s a lot of truth in what they say, namely, that still waters run deep.”

“I can’t help myself, Marc. Don’t get me wrong. Marie is a wonderful woman, a great wife. But—”

“Go on,” Marc coaxed, when his neighbor hesitated.

“She doesn’t satisfy me. Not in all the ways I like to be satisfied.”

“Is she uptight? Are there certain things she won’t do in bed?”

“There are certain things she can’t do in bed.”

“Because—? Come now,” Marc insisted. “Out with it. This is me you’re talking to. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t be shocked. Or judgmental.”

“Because she’s a woman.”

“And you like men …you like me, as well as women. You see? I’m not shocked. I understand.”

“It’s like I said, I can’t help myself. I’m bisexual.”

“You say that as though it was a bad thing. I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as allowing myself to enjoy the best of both worlds.”

“Then, you, too—?”

“I’m bi, too. Of course. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, long ago.”

“Well … honestly, Marc, I have not been spying on you, I swear. But I can’t help noticing certain things.”

“Such as men coming and going here, and always when Ghislaine isn’t here,” Marc mused. “In a way, I’m grateful to you. Maybe I haven’t been as careful as I thought I was.” Marc smiled at Renaud. “Do you have a steady lover?”

“No. Just fuck buddies, and the odd trick, here and there. You know—one-night stands.”

“Oh, how well I know! I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s the same for me.”

“It’s so sordid and disgusting, sometimes.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It doesn’t have to be like that. It can be kind of exciting. Like playing a game.”

“A game with very high stakes,” Renaud pointed out. “You’re so casual about it.”

“There’s no point in being uptight about it, my friend. That doesn’t get you anywhere. So tell me. Would you like to fool around?”

The question took Renaud by surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you want to fuck around? I don’t know how to put it any more clearly than that.”

“Here? Now?”

“Here and now, yeah. It seems like the perfect opportunity, to me.”

“Our wives—”

“Aren’t here. They’re out spending our money. Why shouldn’t we have our fun, while they’re having theirs?”

“Damn,” Renaud muttered, biting his lip.

“You want to, don’t you?”

“I promised myself that I’d try to stop. Or to cut down, at least. Not whore around so much. I’ve even thought—if I put my mind to it—I could be straight.”

Marc had to smile. “Oh? And how’s that been working out for you?”

“Not very well. It’s like trying to quit smoking. The craving is still there. Stronger than ever, if anything.”

“Well, I’d hate to think of myself an enabler, Renaud. But let’s come to an understanding. Do you want to fuck around with me, or don’t you? If not, there won’t be any hard feelings—so to speak—! But if you do—?”

“I do. Yes! God help me, but I do! It’s like I told you. I can’t help myself. And I’m so hot for you, Marc. It drives me mad. I feel as though I’ve got to have you … as though I’ll die, if I don’t.”

“It sounds like a crisis. So let’s not waste any more. The bedroom’s that way,” Marc said, pointing. “I’ll grab a few things we’ll need, and I’ll join you there in a minute.”

Renaud went off in the direction Marc had indicated, and Marc went into his home office, where he raided the wall safe.

On his way to the bedroom, he darted into the bathroom, where he found a freshly laundered towel.

In the bedroom, Renaud was standing beside the unmade bed.

“This seems so wrong,” he said—although Marc didn’t detect much conviction in the look on his face, or in his tone of voice. “You and Ghislaine must’ve slept in this bed, last night—”

“You bet we did,” Marc agreed. “I didn’t fuck her, though. It wasn’t one of our sex nights. We tend to spread them out, you see. So I’m good and horny. I’m ready for you, buddy. And doing it in the marital bed is just going to make it more exciting. Come on, let’s get moving. Take off your clothes.”

Marc set the example, by beginning to strip. As Renaud, too, undressed, he glanced at the towel, box of condoms, and bottle of lube which Marc had set down on the nightstand.

“Are you into oral and anal?” Renaud asked, meekly.

“I’m into everything,” Marc boasted. “Everything that two or more men can do together.”

“Sometimes it hurts when I try to take another guy up my ass.”

“Don’t worry. I like it either way. You can fuck me, all you want. But don’t worry. If you want me to fuck you, I’ll be gentle. At least at first. And when I’m done with your hole, you’re going to love being fucked!”

“Shit,” Renaud moaned. “When I hear another guy talking dirty like that—it gets me so hot!”

“You think I talk dirty? Wait until you see what I can do while my mouth is busy doing other things,” Marc promised.

They were both naked and erect, their clothes flung onto the floor beside the bed.

“God,” Renaud gasped, staring at the other man’s nude body. “I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—ever since we moved in next door, and I saw you for the very first time!”

“And you could have had me, all along. Well, now’s your chance to make up for all that lost time,” Marc told him. “Go for it!”

They kissed furiously, biting at each other’s lips and driving their tongues deeply from mouth to mouth. Sensing that the other married man was the passive type who hesitated to make the first move, Marc reached for Renaud’s cock. It was already pulsing with excitement, and despite Renaud’s slight drunkenness from the wine he had consumed, it grew solid in moments when his neighbor played with it.

“I want to suck you,” Renaud blurted out. “Oh, Marc, I want to suck your cock!” He pushed against Marc’s bare chest to urge him to get on the bed and lie there on his back, but Marc resisted.

“No, not yet. I want to suck yours first. Trust me,” Marc boasted. “I’m very good at it. Let me prove it to you—”

In his turn, he silently urged Renaud to lie flat on his back on the mattress. Then Marc clambered up onto the bed, where he scrambled in between the other guy’s legs and stroked his thighs. Renaud felt his dick quivering, jerking fitfully up and down from his belly. First, Marc’s warm hands caressed it, and then his equally warm and sensuous mouth began to kiss its way up the insides of Renaud’s thighs. Renaud’s stomach lurched involuntarily with a guilty tension when Marc’s tongue touched his balls and began to lick them with long, wet strokes. Renaud’s breath grew more ragged as the other man’s mouth worked its way steadily higher, until he was licking the base of Renaud’s turgid penis. Marc’s tongue moved higher up the length of the cock, his tongue rubbing it like a metronome swaying from side to side on the shaft. When his lips reached the tip, he began to tease Renaud’s tool with the end of his tongue, making it jump higher from his belly until it stood up far enough for Marc easily to capture it with his lips.

“Oh,” Renaud groaned, as the handsome stud’s wet mouth went down on his cock. “Oh, my God!” An indescribable erotic joy suddenly seemed to flood through his entire body. Those warm, moist lips were moving slowly up and down on him, taking his cock right to the base. Each stroke made his horny prick swell harder, until it felt like a bar of burning iron sliding in and out of Marc’s hot, hard-sucking mouth.

Renaud’s hips began to move in unison with the steady downward thrusts of Marc’s mouth, driving Renaud’s cock far into the depths of the other guy’s hot, tight throat. Renaud had never dreamed that anything like this would ever take place between him and his good-looking neighbor, or that it would be this good if, by some miracle, it did happen. The reality now hit him like a body blow, making him breathless. Renaud arched his head up from the mattress and he looked down at the bobbing head which was working on his cock. He saw Marc’s disheveled mane of silky chestnut hair, his handsome face, and his well-muscled naked body.

“Oh, my God,” Renaud repeated, in disbelief. His hands gripped and squeezed Marc’s shoulders. “Suck it, Marc. Please suck it for me. Oh, suck my cock!” He almost wept with pleasure and gratitude. “I need it so bad!”

He felt the sperm pressure building up inside him, and his hips drove up harder, more urgently. Marc must have felt it, too, because suddenly his oral strokes became frantic, his tongue wildly licking every accessible inch of Renaud’s dick to make it shoot.

“Oh, fuck! I’m going to come!” Renaud moaned. He didn’t want the blow job to end so soon, but he was helpless to prevent his orgasm. His head tilted back, his whole body tensed—and his tormented cock shot off inside the other man’s mouth. The violence of his ejaculation made Marc pull back, but only for an instant. Then Marc continued to suck as passionately as ever, greedily gathering every drop of the hot fluid which Renaud was squirting into his mouth and down his throat. When Renaud’s prick did stop shooting, Marc slowly pulled his mouth off it and swallowed the semen. Then he lay down beside Renaud and took him into his arms.

“I believe you needed that. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, too. Good sex,” Marc murmured.

“The best,” Renaud agreed.

“Good enough to sell you on this whole idea of bisexuality?”

“What do you think?”

Renaud hugged Marc’s head down to his, and he kissed Marc hard on the mouth. His hands rubbed restlessly up and down Marc’s strong, naked shoulders, feeling the muscles in them ripple under the skin. Their bodies ground hotly together. When the kiss was broken, Marc rolled Renaud onto his back—and this time the other guy didn’t resist.

“I haven’t come yet,” Marc pointed out.

“I know you haven’t. What you do want to do?”

“I want your ass.” Marc reached for the box of rubbers and the lube.

Renaud swallowed, hard, in apprehension. “All right. But you’re hung so big, Marc. You’re going to have to go easy on me, at first.”

“Don’t you worry,” Marc promised, as he began to unroll a condom down over his thick, throbbing dick. “Before I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging for it—begging for more. They always do.”

Chapter Five: The Office Boy

Marc congratulated himself.

At first, he’d feared that his neighbor, Renaud, represented a potential threat to him. But Marc had managed to deflect that possibility. Renaud was infatuated with him, and Marc was perfectly willing to take advantage of the fact. Renaud would keep his mouth shut about Marc’s extramarital activities—as long as Marc continued to have sex with him. Marc was willing. Like a lot of married men who fooled around with other men on the sly, Renaud was good in bed—uninhibited, and enthusiastic. Having an outlet for his needs right next door was a real convenience, Marc realized.

And so, for at least a week, Marc was content. He felt no urge to seek out any other sex partners.

He concentrated on his work. Even down at the office, though, there were distractions and temptations. Marc had always made it his strict policy not to fool around with any of the guys he worked with, no matter how attractive they were. Some of these coworkers of his were openly gay, of course. Others were closeted, as was Marc himself, although his usual reliable instincts in such matters told him which ones fell into that category.

Recently, the management had hired a new office boy, named Jean-Paul. It was an entry-level position, of course, and accordingly his duties were menial. He delivered the interoffice mail, did filing, made photocopies and replenished the copy machines when they need to be reloaded with paper, and he went on runs to fetch takeout coffee, sandwiches, and pastries—that sort of thing.

At first, Marc barely took notice of the lad. But gradually he began to realize that Jean-Paul was the alert, energetic type, who seemed ambitious enough, and also willing to please. He was a good-looking youngster, too, with a hot little body which his clothes couldn’t conceal.

The problem, from Marc’s perspective, was that Jean-Paul was so damn young—just turned twenty. Marc had his personal prejudices. He liked his men to be butch, which usually required a certain degree of maturity. Jean-Paul was attractive, but he still had a look of boyish innocence about him, which to Marc telegraphed a clear warning—namely, danger ahead, jailbait alert! Look, but don’t touch!

There was no doubt in Marc’s mind that Jean-Paul was gay. He’d often caught the new office boy looking at him with admiration and desire. Jean-Paul was too young to have learned how to disguise his proclivities.

Marc assumed that the kid had a boyfriend his own age, and that the two of them no doubt fucked like jackrabbits.

I wonder what it’s like, Marc speculated, not without a touch of envy, to be young and openly gay … to just live your life, and not have to hide. To do whatever you want, and not give a damn about what anybody else thinks?

Well, I’ve made my choice. I’ve made my bed, as they say, and now I’m going to have to lie in it. I can’t complain too much, though. I have my chances, every now and then, to lie in it alongside some hot guy!

It was almost quitting time at work late one afternoon, when the intercom on Marc’s desk came to life.

“Monsieur Remy?” Elise asked.

“Yes, Elise?”

“Madame Remy is on the phone.”

“Put her through right away. Oh, and you can go home, Elise. I won’t need you any more today.”

“Thank you, monsieur.”

Marc picked up the phone on his desk.

“Hello, darling,” he said.

“So I caught you. I was afraid you might have already left,” Ghislaine said.

“I was almost on my way out the door.”

“And so am I. You’re on your own this evening, remember.”

“Am I? I don’t remember.”

Ghislaine laughed. “Which is why I thought I’d better call and remind you. I have my book club tonight.”

“Oh, that.”

“Don’t you dare make fun, Marc. This time we’re holding the meeting at Angelique’s house. We’re going to order something to be delivered, and while we eat we’re going to sit around and discuss this month’s book. And it’s really interesting. It’s a love story.”

“And how much actual discussion of this fictional love story is likely to take place—as opposed to a lot of girl talk about fashion, husbands, boyfriends, and real-life romantic intrigues?”

“Marc, you are so cynical! Shame on you. Well, you’re going to have to make your own dinner, unless you want to stop somewhere on your way home. I did the grocery shopping this afternoon. So there’s plenty of food on hand. Including all the things you like.”

“I’m sure I won’t starve. Enjoy your evening. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll try not to be too late.”

They rang off.

Marc’s lips curled into a rueful smile as he got his things together and prepared to leave his office. Ghislaine had told him about her book club night, of course, and well ahead of time. But Marc did tend to be absent-minded about appointments and social engagements which did not involve him directly.

If only I’d remembered, he chastised himself. A few hours free this evening … I could have made some plans, arranged something. Ah, well. I’ll be smarter, next time.

As one of the company’s executives, he had his own reserved parking space. He got into his car and pulled out into the street. Warily, he placed himself on the lookout, ready to react to any typical Marseille driver who thought of traffic signals as mere suggestions, rather than rigid warnings to be obeyed.

Finding himself stopped in traffic beside a bus stop, Marc turned his head and glanced at the people who were waiting. Among them was none other than Jean-Paul.

Marc pressed the button to lower the passenger side window.

“Hey there, Jean-Paul,” he called out.

The office boy grinned at him. “Oh, hi.”

“Hop in,” Marc said. “Come on,” he added, when Jean-Paul hesitated. “Let me give you a lift.”

Jean-Paul got into the car, and Marc pulled back into the traffic. He closed the window.

“That air conditioning sure feels good,” Jean-Paul remarked.

“Yes, it was a hot day. Are you on your way home?” Marc asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me where you live, and I’ll drop you off.”

“It’s too far out of your way.”

“How do you know what my way is?”

“Everybody at work knows where you live. In a fancy villa on top of the hill in Périer, with a view of the city and the sea,” Jean-Paul said, referring to one of the more exclusive districts of Marseille.

“It’s hardly a villa,” Marc protested. “It’s an old house. A nice old house, I admit, with high ceilings—and small rooms. With a modernized kitchen and plumbing, thank God.”

“I live north of the city. Almost as far as Sèptemes-les Vallons. Which isn’t just a question of distance. It’s a whole other world.”

“Well, I’m in no hurry to get home tonight. I don’t mind swinging by there.”

“Lucky you, that you have the option of just swinging by there, as opposed to living there. If you really don’t mind slumming … then thank you very much.”

“You’re entirely welcome, Jean-Paul.”

“You’re going to have to turn right at the next light. And then head north.”

“Got it. Don’t you have a car?” Marc asked.

“On my salary?”

“Sorry. I suppose the question was insensitive of me.”

“Feel free to recommend me for a raise.”

“What are you willing to do to earn it?”

“You might be surprised.”

Marc had meant his question as a joke. But Jean-Paul had jumped right in, with more than a hint of innuendo in his voice and manner.

Before Marc could react with words, though, his passenger asked, “Are you sure I’m not taking you out of your way? Aren’t you in a hurry to get home to your wife?”

“She’s got an engagement this evening. I have some time to kill. And driving relaxes me. Tell me when to turn.”

“No, stay on this street for the time being. We’ve still got a way to go.”

“Do you live at home with your parents?”

“God, no!”

Marc chuckled. “You like to be out on your own—independent—is that it?”

“Yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“Do you have a roommate?”

“No. My dump is barely big enough for one person, let alone two. But it’s cheap. And it looks it.”

“When I was your age, and first starting out … I always had roommates.”

“I suppose that could be nice, having another guy around, to keep you company, and to watch your back. Assuming the two of you get along together. But wasn’t it—”

“What?”

“Wasn’t it kind of awkward, when you wanted to bring somebody home for sex?”

“Um, not necessarily, in my experience. These things have a way of working themselves out.”

“I wish I knew your secret. God, look at this hole,” Jean-Paul exclaimed.

They had reached the outskirts of the city, where the neighborhoods tended to deteriorate in quality.

“I’ve seen much worse, here in Marseille. Garbage stacked up and rotting in the streets, because of sanitation worker strikes … and refuse actually being burned in the streets.”

“But everything’s so ugly and dirty,” Jean-Paul lamented. “So depressing. Maybe you can stand it, because you’re just driving through it. You don’t have to live here, twenty-four seven. You can drive back to Périer. I’m embarrassed, because I’m subjecting you to this. I should’ve just taken the bus.”

“I wish you’d stop apologizing. And what do you think of me, anyway—that I’m some sort of a prissy, stuck-up queen?” Too late, Marc realized that he’d let slip that word queen, with all it implied. “I can remember living in a neighborhood that made this one look downright gentrified.”

Jean-Paul was smiling at him. “But I bet you didn’t live there for long.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You managed to better yourself,” the office boy suggested. “By one means or another.”

“Absolutely.”

“Turn left up ahead,” Jean-Paul instructed Marc. “We’re almost there.”

Soon, following Jean-Paul’s directions, Marc found himself negotiating a labyrinth of narrow streets, between tall, monolithic apartments of recent construction—and uniformly drab, unimaginative design.

“Would you like to come up and see how the other half lives?” Jean-Paul asked.

“I would.”

“Pull over there. It’ll be safe to leave your car there. For now. Maybe not overnight. But I’m not inviting you to spend the night.”

Marc wondered exactly what Jean-Paul was inviting him to his place for. But he said nothing as he parked the car and followed Jean-Paul into one of the buildings.

They rode the elevator to the top floor.

“These are the penthouses,” Jean-Paul joked, leading Marc down a dimly-lit hallway. “I have what the management describes as a ‘luxury studio.’ What’s luxurious about it is that I have a real bed, instead of a pull-out. Oh, and the fact that through the windows you can see a sliver of the sky, as opposed to the wall of the building next door.”

He let Marc in.

The studio apartment was a long, narrow rectangular space. The two windows did indeed reveal a sliver of the sky, still a vivid clear blue, with sunset several hours away. There was a kitchenette at one end, a bed at the other, and, between them, two battered old second- or third-hand leather armchairs flanking a small table. Two doors in the wall opposite the windows presumably opened onto a closet and the bathroom.

Jean-Paul kept the place tidy, Marc observed. The bed was made, with a quilted cotton coverlet spread over it. There were no dirty dishes in the sink.

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” Jean-Paul asked.

“A little.”

Jean-Paul switched on a box fan, set on the floor. “There. That’ll get some air circulating. Why don’t you give me your jacket? I’ll hang it up, so it won’t get wrinkled.”

“Very well, thanks.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I would, as a matter of fact.”

“Sit,” Jean-Paul urged, indicating the armchairs. “I’ll have it ready in a minute. Loosen your tie. Take off your shoes. Take off anything you damn well want to, in fact,” he teased Marc.

Marc grinned. “Is this going to be that sort of a visit?”

Jean-Paul shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you.” With his back turned to Marc, he was burying himself with the coffee things. He had the kind of aluminum Italian drip maker which brewed coffee quickly and efficiently, and he set this on one of the stove’s burners. “What’s the matter? I’m not your type?”

Interesting that he takes for granted I’m gay, or bi, Marc thought. I thought I was better at hiding it!

He saw no reason to prevaricate.

“I don’t believe in office romances, as a rule,” he said. “Having an affair with someone you work with—that can get awkward.”

“I’m sure it can. But who was talking about romance or an affair? Two guys can have sex with each other, and no harm done. No strings attached.”

“Well, there’s always the possibility of sexual harassment to think about.”

“What harassment? Technically, you aren’t my boss. I work under Monsieur Jolivet. And if I thought I could get anywhere by going to bed with him, I’d get down on my knees with my mouth open, and bend over with my butt cheeks spread, any time he wanted me to.”

Marc had to smirk at the thought of Monsieur Jolivet, who was close to retirement age and a happily married man—and a grandfather—succumbing to Jean-Paul’s undeniable charms. One good same-sex orgasm would probably kill the poor guy!

“How do you take it? Your coffee, I mean?” Jean-Paul asked.

“With a little milk or cream, if you have any. No sugar.”

They sat facing each other across the little table, and drank their coffee out of oversized mugs. It was surprisingly good, and Marc said so.

“Well, to keep myself from going crazy, I do indulge myself in a few little luxuries,” Jean-Paul confessed. “Decent coffee is one of them. There’s a hole-in-the-wall grocery store a few blocks from here. It’s run by immigrants, and they do know their coffee beans, and how to grind them.”

“And how else do you like to indulge yourself?” Marc asked.

“Sex, of course.”

“No steady boyfriend?”

“Oh, they come and go. I like to play the field. When I do settle down—well, it’ll have to be with a man who can afford a villa in Périer.”

“Oh, but why stop there?” Marc suggested, lightly. “You ought to hold out for a villa on the beach. And a yacht.”

“More coffee?” Jean-Paul asked.

“No, thanks. I’m fine. I suppose I ought to be going.”

“Can’t you stick around? For a little while?”

“I could.”

“Do you want to fuck around?” Jean-Paul blurted out.

“Do you? I’m a lot older than you. Wouldn’t you be happier with a guy your own age?”

“You’re ten years older than me—if that. I have to tell you, though—”

“What?”

“I’m not all that experienced.”

“You must be kidding me.”

“What, do you think I’m some kind of a slut?” Jean-Paul demanded, indignantly.

“Nothing of the sort,” Marc assured him. “But you’re young. You’re good-looking. You’re obviously comfortable with being gay. I can’t help taking it for granted that you must have men lined up, fighting for the chance to have sex with you.”

“I wish! Not so many as you might think, Marc. So many men are … jerks.”

“And I’m not a jerk?”

“No, you’re anything but.”

“That’s flattering. I have to warn you, though, Jean-Paul. I’m not a very nice guy. I’m married. I’m not interested in getting into a relationship with another man. I do like to have a good time, but all I can offer you is sex.”

“All I want from you is sex. Let’s fuck!”

“You’re blunt.”

“I’m honest. And don’t worry—I’m discreet. I know that’s important to you. No one at work will ever know about this.” Jean-Paul stood up. “Let’s get these fucking clothes off.”

Marc rose, too. “Yes, let’s.”

The two men stripped.

When they were both naked, Marc led the complaisant Jean-Paul to the end of the room which he used as his bedroom, to the bed. Jean-Paul drew back the coverlet, exposing the sheets. They lay down together, and Jean-Paul’s hand squeezed Marc’s cock tightly. Jean-Paul let out a little moan of excitement as the penis began to harden within his grip. He hugged Marc possessively for a moment, and then he began to kiss his way down the older man’s smooth flesh until his lips were brushing through the silken hair surrounding the base of his cock. Jean-Paul lifted himself onto his knees and he forced Marc’s legs farther apart, so that when he brought his head down a second time, he was able to nuzzle his mouth against the low-hanging sac of balls.

For several minutes, Jean-Paul licked the hairy flesh, while his hand played with Marc’s cock until it was solidly erect. Then, bringing his mouth slowly up the length of the shaft, he parted his lips and took the whole swollen cockhead into his mouth.

Marc’s hands tightened on the boy’s head when he felt the warm, slippery pressure of his lips moving down on his penis until Jean-Paul had swallowed it right to the hilt. He groaned with delight when Jean-Paul’s tongue stroked the base of his dick and the eager young cocksucker began to work his lips up and down on it. Marc’s ass began to move in rhythm with Jean-Paul’s steadily bobbing head, feeding his horny prick into the boy’s hungry, smacking mouth.

The sounds of Jean-Paul’s lips and tongue working wetly on his cock and the gargling noises Jean-Paul’s throat made as he drove himself down in it excited Marc, and he pumped his hips faster. His legs began to tense. Jean-Paul was drawing him closer and closer to the point of ejaculation. Suddenly, Jean-Paul’s mouth pulled off him, and Marc groaned in surprise and frustration.

“Why’d you stop? I was getting ready to come!” Marc complained. He tried to push Jean-Paul’s mouth back down on his meat, but the boy resisted, and then he scrambled back up beside Marc in the bed. “Go on, suck me some more,” Marc pleaded. “Suck me off. Let me come in your mouth, and swallow my load.”

“I’d love to—I’m willing to do that for you. But I don’t want just oral, Marc,” Jean-Paul gasped, breathless with excitement. “I want you to fuck me! I’ve wanted you for so long—ever since I started work, ever since the first day I saw you down there in the office. I’ve had a crush on you ever since that first day. You can’t imagine how horny I’ve gotten, thinking about you, while I’ve jerked off, right here in this bed at night. I want your prick in my asshole. I want to feel it going in and out of me. That’s what I’ve dreamed about … what I’ve fantasized about, while I’ve beaten off and shot my wad, before I go to sleep.”

“If you insist.”

Marc lay back on the mattress, while Jean-Paul reached for the condoms and lubricant which he kept ready, on the nightstand.

With a condom packet in his hand, Jean-Paul knelt down on the bed again and bent his head to capture Marc’s stiff prick between his lips. He began to suck it again, furiously, and without releasing his oral grip on it, he used his hands to rip open the packet and pull out the rubber.

Taking his mouth off Marc’s cock, Jean-Paul replaced it with the condom, rolling the latex down around Marc’s throbbing shaft. Next, Jean-Paul took the lube and spread some of it over the sheathed fuck tool.

“Lie down on your stomach,” Marc suggested. “And spread some more of that lube around your asshole.”

They got into position, and Marc swung his weight up and over the boy, straddling him with his knees on the outsides of Jean-Paul’s legs. Marc gripped his cock firmly at the base and bent it down so that the head was aimed at the entrance to Jean-Paul’s ass. Marc adjusted his knees to give himself better leverage, and then he pressed slowly forward, urging his dickhead into the tight opening. He pushed again, while Jean-Paul moaned, and suddenly the slippery head of Marc’s cock slid into Jean-Paul’s tight asshole.

“Oh, shit!” Jean-Paul yelped. “It’s too fucking big, man! It hurts too much. I don’t think I can take you.”

“Sure you can,” Marc insisted. “Just relax. Let your asshole open up. You’ll take it—and I promise you, you’ll like it.”

As he spoke, Marc pushed down harder, forcing more than half of his cock into the resisting anal passageway. Gritting his teeth, he lunged again, this time burying himself to the balls in the depths of Jean-Paul’s behind. Jean-Paul groaned, but Marc could already feel his asshole gradually loosening as he submitted to the fuck. When he was confident that Jean-Paul was ready for it, Marc began to withdraw his cock, pulling it back inch by slow inch until just the head was still stuck inside Jean-Paul. Marc hesitated for a moment, panting and sweating, but then he lunged all the way back inside.

“Aw, hell,” Jean-Paul moaned.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little. But I like it … I like having your big cock in me. I wish it was even bigger,” Jean-Paul confessed.

Encouraged, Marc pulled out again, and this time his stroke back in was slower. When he was only halfway in, Jean-Paul’s ass rose up to meet him, his butt cheeks and sphincter clenching tightly as Marc rammed his prick back in.

“Yeah,” Jean-Paul whispered. “I do like it … oh, man, I do like getting my ass fucked. Fuck me, Marc. Fuck me hard! Oh, fuck me!”

Marc tightened his grip on the boy’s waist to hold him in place, and then he drew his cock far back. Immediately, though, he lunged back into that hot, tight young ass, penetrating it deep and hard. He grinned with pleasure when he heard the moan which escaped from Jean-Paul’s throat. Marc lunged again, ramming into the yielding asshole with such force this time that his balls hurt when they slapped against Jean-Paul’s buttocks.

“Harder, man, harder!” Jean-Paul yelled. “Come on, fuck my ass! Tear me open. Fuck it raw! Hurt me with your big, hard cock!”

Again and again, Marc drove his dick into the boy, until his prickshaft encountered no further resistance, but seemed to move in and out of the quivering asshole like a pile driver sinking into hot, thick mud. There was just enough friction to make each penetration exquisitely pleasurable for both the fucker and the guy being fucked, alike. Part of Marc’s delight came from the muffled cries of lust which Jean-Paul made as Marc’s huge cock ripped deep into him. But most of Marc’s ecstasy resulted from the tightness of the boy’s ass around his horny prick, and the thrill which raced all the way through the shaft, each time Marc lunged down.

Marc’s legs tensed and his breath grew ragged. He stroked again and again into the soft, warm recesses of Jean-Paul’s ass. It felt incredibly good. Every inch of his cock was alive with sensation. The warm, tight muscles of the anus clenched around Marc’s bulky shafted and exerted a suction on the head of it which made it seem he was driving in even deeper than he actually was.

Marc rolled onto his side, still lodged inside Jean-Paul’s ass, and he reached down for the boy’s cock. It was throbbing hard when he made a fist around it, and he began to jerk Jean-Paul off, in rhythm with the strokes of Marc’s own prick as he fucked him.

“Son of a bitch!” Jean-Paul howled, spasming from head to foot against the other man’s body. “I’m going to come! I’m going to shoot!”

“Go ahead. Spray your fucking load all over both of us,” Marc encouraged him, hoarsely. “Let me see that hot cum fly out. I’m there, too. I’m going to come inside your hot ass!”

His hand pounded on Jean-Paul’s prick, while his own cock drove deeper into the boy’s hole. Suddenly, Jean-Paul moaned, and Marc felt squirts of warm semen splashing down over his busy fingers. He pumped away, faster, with both his fist and his cock—and in a moment he, too, was coming. He bit hard into the side of Jean-Paul’s neck to keep from screaming in triumph as his cock shot off volley after volley of its white-hot juice.

“I can feel it,” Jean-Paul panted. “Jesus, man—I can feel your cock jerking, while you come in me. Let me have all of it. Keep on fucking me. Fill my asshole with your goddamn jism!”

For several minutes afterward they lay on their sides without moving, with Marc’s cock still firmly lodged in Jean-Paul’s ass, and his hand still wrapped around the boy’s semen-slimed prick.

“Oh, you’re beautiful,” Marc moaned, as he caressed Jean-Paul. “You’re such a beautiful boy … and you’re such a good fuck!”

“And I love your cock,” Jean-Paul admitted, shamelessly. “I love having it in me, fucking me. Are we going to do this again? Or is this going to be just another one-night stand?”

“That’s up to you. I’d like to see you again—fuck you again.”

“You can,” Jean-Paul vowed. “Any time you want! I don’t care that you’re married. I want to be your boy. Nobody will ever have to know. It’ll be our secret.”

“You’re so sweet.” Marc kissed Jean-Paul, passionately.

“But now you have to get dressed and go home to your wife. Oh, I’m not complaining. I understand.”

“I want to be there when she gets home from her book club.”

“Her book club! Ha! You and I. We’ll write our own book,” Jean-Paul promised. “A book about men lusting for one another … a hot story, about men fucking.”

“Yes. We’ll collaborate on that,” Marc agreed. “One chapter at a time.”

Chapter Six: While the Cats are Away

Marc squirmed wantonly against Renaud’s body. “I want your cock in my ass, this time,” he panted. “Fuck me!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Marc insisted. His hand reached down for Renaud’s cock and he worked it roughly back and forth until he was satisfied that it was fully hard and ready to satisfy them both. “Put it in me,” Marc growled. “Don’t even grease it up first! Just ram it into me and fuck the shit out of my hole!”

“Not without a rubber,” Renaud said.

“Put on the goddamn rubber, then. But hurry!”

When he was sheathed in the latex, Renaud slithered onto the other man’s back and aimed his cockhead down between Marc’s solid buttocks. He rubbed his cock slowly over the butt crack until he felt Marc thrusting up at him, impatiently. Then Renaud fitted his cockhead carefully against the puckered hole which his neighbor was offering him.

“Go ahead,” Marc urged. “Shove it in!”

Renaud gasped and pushed his weight down hard. His cock met tight resistance at first, and he had to push again, even more forcefully. He felt the constricted muscles parting slowly as he pushed, holding his dick firmly by the base to guide it in.

“Yeah,” Marc gloated. “That’s what I want! God, how I love it, a man’s cock in me, fucking me. Finish the job. Push it in all the way. Let me have that cock!”

Renaud pushed again, and his prickshaft slowly began to slide into Marc’s ass. He felt the inner muscles fighting him every inch of the way, and he suspected that Marc was deliberately tightening up in order to increase the friction of the insertion. But Renaud pressed down steadily, grunting, until finally he was buried in the tight passage to the hilt.

“Oh, Marc!” he exulted. “I’m in you … I’m in you all the way. And it feels so fucking good, buddy! Every time I’m with you, it just gets better and better. But—we’re taking an awful chance, you know.”

“A chance?”

“Getting together for sex like this, when our wives are both in town. What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught. Not if we’re smart. Listen, now that Ghislaine and Marie have become such good friends—it’s the best thing that could have happened, for us. Take today, for instance. They’re doing their usual weekend thing. They’ve gone out for lunch on a Saturday afternoon, followed by yet another shopping expedition. They won’t be home for hours. And by then, I’ll have changed the sheets on the bed and washed the ones we’re screwing on. Speaking of screwing,” Marc added, drily. “I’d appreciate less talk—and more sex. Get busy. Fuck me. Give it to me good and hard. Screw my asshole as hard as you can, ream me out with your big, hard cock! This isn’t your wife’s dainty little pussy you’re fucking,” he taunted. “You’re fucking another man!”

Renaud started to drive his prick in and out of the other man’s ass, finding it difficult to break through the tight friction at first. But as he continued to fuck Marc, he felt his lover’s asshole loosening its grip, accepting his cock more easily, so that it slipped in and out with just enough pressure to make the feeling of fucking Marc wildly erotic.

“Yes,” Marc panted, feverishly, writhing and squirming and humping beneath Renaud’s body. “Give it to me, and give it to me hard. Fuck me, fuck me hard—hard!”

Renaud’s body slapped against Marc’s back and buttocks as he moved with faster and harder lunges, plunging himself deeper into that butch, stud ass each time he came down on Marc. Renaud’s chest was beaded with sweat, his legs quivering. He fucked faster and faster, really punishing the other man with his prick.

Not that Marc complained. He loved it! He couldn’t get enough of it!

“Do you like it this way?” Renaud panted, as though he had read Marc’s mind. “Do you like it rough?”

“There’s no other way,” Marc declared, with a deep groan. “No other way, that’s anywhere near as good. Fuck that hole of mine!”

Suddenly, Renaud began to gasp, and his hands clenched Marc’s sides. He drove his hard-fucking dick right in to the hilt and then he screamed into Marc’s shoulder, as his overexcited fuck tool exploded inside him, filling the condom Renaud wore with wad upon wad of hot, slimy fluid. He pounded his way through his orgasm. Finally, Renaud slipped his cock out of the hole and he gathered Marc into his arms, kissing him passionately on the mouth.

The past two weeks had been like a continual wet dream for Renaud, the fulfillment of every erotic fantasy which he had secretly, guiltily, harbored in his imagination ever since his marriage. He and Marc took advantage of every opportunity to get together for sex, and their wives never suspected a thing.

With Marc, Renaud experienced none of the shame or guilt he had felt with his other male sex partners. Taking Marc’s cock into his mouth and sucking it, or putting his own dick into Marc’s mouth, seemed to so inevitable every time it happened that Renaud couldn’t be bothered thinking about such futile considerations as right or wrong, natural or unnatural. Even the word adultery had ceased to have any real meaning for him. In addition to the hot oral sex, of course, he and Marc fucked, too, and they did so like a pair of hot, horny, rutting animals—taking turns plunging their pricks into each other’s asses until they both came, and collapsed, exhausted. Renaud’s desire for his lover seemed insatiable.

Renaud was roused from his reverie by Marc, who delivered a playful slap to his bare ass.

“You go use the shower first,” Marc suggested. “While I put these sheets in the washer. Then I’ll make us some lunch, and we can watch the soccer match on TV. When Ghislaine and Marie get here, they’ll find us just hanging out—drinking wine and cheering on our favorite team. The picture of innocence.”

They got off the bed, which Marc stripped of its sheets and pillowcases. Standing there, Renaud gazed at his beautiful nude lover, as Marc bundled up the bed linen.

His lover … Renaud was excited by the mere thought that he now had a lover. He told himself that, after all, playing around with Marc was a lot safer than trying to pick up some anonymous stranger for sex. Smiling, Renaud headed for the bathroom, to take his much-needed shower.

Chapter Seven: Share and Share Alike

While they waited for their wives to return from their shopping expedition, Marc told Renaud about Jean-Paul. Marc wasn’t in the habit of bragging about his conquests to his other sex partners, but he and Renaud had become so close that he made an exception.

“He sounds hot,” Renaud said. “Is there any chance of me meeting him?”

“Why, so you can lure him away from me? Listen, buddy. I saw him first. But,” Marc added, relenting, “he’s such a sexy little number that I suppose there’s plenty of him to go around.”

“Would you be willing to share him?” Renaud asked, with undisguised eagerness.

“Down, boy,” Marc mocked him. “You’re beginning to salivate!”

But it didn’t take long for the resourceful and devious Marc to come up with a stratagem.

“Come downtown and have lunch with me some day,” he suggested. “I’ll make a reservation for us at this restaurant I often go to. But we can meet at my office. That’ll give you your chance to see Jean-Paul. Just don’t be too damn obvious when you check him out.”

This plan worked perfectly. Renaud came to Marc’s workplace a few days later. Marc had already set aside a list of a few mundane tasks which he wanted Jean-Paul to do for him. This gave him a perfect excuse to call the office boy into his office while Renaud was there with him. Marc introduced Renaud to Jean-Paul, as a matter of course.

“Well, we’re going to go have some lunch,” Marc said, after the three men had made some polite small talk. But then he had a further inspiration. “Why don’t you join us, Jean-Paul? My treat, of course.”

After making a token protest, Jean-Paul accepted the invitation—while Renaud flashed Marc a why didn’t I think of that? sort of look.

Over lunch, it didn’t take long for the trio to drop any pretenses.

“So,” Jean-Paul remarked, casually. “You guys are neighbors, huh?”

“That’s right,” Marc said.

“Buddies,” Jean-Paul added.

“The best of friends,” Renaud assured him.

“And lovers?” Jean-Paul asked.

Renaud was flustered. “We’re both married,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, you and half of the other men in Marseille who hang out in the gay bars and try to pick up guys on the street,” Jean-Paul retorted. “When did being married ever stop anybody from having himself a good time? Marc, here, is the perfect example. And if you two are as close as you say you are—well, then you must’ve learned a few things from him.”

Marc smiled. “You see, Renaud—despite his youth, Jean-Paul is already quite the sophisticate. He knows the score.”

Jean-Paul, too, grinned—in a broad way which amounted to a leer. “Yeah, I do. And speaking of scoring … so, you two are an item. But you’re obviously not exclusive.”

“Obviously,” Marc admitted.

“Do you guys like threeways?”

“I love them,” Marc said, without hesitation and without shame.

“Do you, Marc? I’ve never been in one, myself,” Renaud said.

Jean-Paul was shocked. “Never? Man—that’s like saying you’ve never jerked off! You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

“Maybe we’d better take it upon ourselves to show Renaud what he’s been missing,” Marc suggested.

Jean-Paul soon proved to be every bit as skilled at sexual scheming as Marc.

“I know you guys can’t fool around at home unless your wives are away,” he said. “But you can always come to my place, if you don’t mind slumming. Just pretend the two of you are going somewhere together on a boys’ night out. Then you can drive straight to my place, and we can ball our brains out. Home you go afterward, and the other halves will never know the difference.”

Two days later, in the early evening, Marc and Renaud went to Jean-Paul’s apartment. During the drive, they rehearsed their alibi. Their story would be that they’d gone to the movies, and seen the kind of action film, heavy on car chases and explosions, which their wives disliked. They’d had a drink at a sports bar, afterward.

“If Marie accuses you—even in jest—of having gone to a strip club with me, deny it, of course,” Marc advised. “But try to look a little sheepish while you do it. The more she starts thinking about the possibility that you and I had ourselves a little harmless heterosexual fun, the less likely she’ll be to suspect the truth. It’s a trick I learned long ago, and it always works.”

“You’re really an expert at this sneaking about and cheating business, aren’t you, Marc?”

“You bet I am. And if you’re smart, and have any instinct for self-preservation—you’ll become one, too.”

They arrived at Jean-Paul’s apartment building.

“Ugh,” Renaud commented, succinctly but eloquently, as they entered the lobby. “This neighborhood—this place—!”

“I know you’re experiencing culture shock. But be nice,” his companion in sin advised, as he pressed Jean-Paul’s buzzer. “Jean-Paul can’t help it that he’s just starting out on his own, and has an entry-level job.”

Jean-Paul buzzed them in, and they rode the elevator upstairs.

Marc had brought a couple of bottles of good wine, as a gift for their host, along with a “party favor,” in the form of some coke, which the three men snorted while they sampled the wine. Soon, they were shedding their clothes.

“You two start without me,” Marc suggested. “I’m going to finish this glass of wine. And I don’t often get an opportunity to watch two other guys making love. This is going to be a real treat for me.”

Marc remained seated in one of the armchairs, while Jean-Paul got into a kneeling position in front of Renaud, who occupied the other chair, nearby. Resting his hands on Renaud’s knees, Jean-Paul gazed at the married man’s crotch.

“Do you like to have your cock sucked?” Jean-Paul asked.

Renaud was still a little nervous, in that way some men have when they’re about to have sex with another guy for the first time. “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

“I bet I can do a better job of it than your wife,” Jean-Paul promised, lewdly. “Much better.”

Renaud squirmed in his seat. “Let’s leave my wife out of this, okay?”

“Don’t tease him, Jean-Paul,” Marc said. “Blow him.”

“Yeah … I’ll blow you, all right, man. I’ll blow you real good. Relax. Let me suck your cock,” Jean-Paul whispered.

Renaud leaned back in the chair and spread his legs. “Be my guest.”

Marc could see that Renaud already had a rip-roaring hard-on, which stuck up from his groin, rigid and twitching with pent-up need. Jean-Paul took the erection in his hand and, bending over, he guided the glans of Renaud’s penis to his lips. He extended his tongue and licked the cockhead, slowly and provocatively, wetting it with his saliva.

“Aw, fuck!” Renaud exclaimed.

“I told you he was good,” Marc said.

Proceeding to demonstrate exactly how good he was, Jean-Paul took a deep breath, before he engulfed Renaud’s stiff penis in his mouth. Guiding the bloated cockhead expertly down into his throat on each downstroke, he began to suck, quickly driving Renaud wild.

For a few minutes, Marc enjoyed his wine, and the show. When his glass was drained, he stood up and put his hand on Jean-Paul’s shoulder.

“There’s a perfectly good bed over there, going to waste,” he reminded the other two men. “Why don’t we get comfortable?”

Removing his mouth from Renaud’s dick with a loud, lewd slurping noise, Jean-Paul grinned at both men.

“Yeah, let’s. In your honor, guys, I’ve put clean sheets on the bed, which is something I don’t do for just any trick,” their host announced. “But feel free to mess them up.”

Marc was surprised by his own lack of selfishness, which he knew wasn’t at all characteristic of him. He’d had Jean-Paul before, and he flattered himself that he could have the boy again, any time he wished. And so he was willing to let Renaud have his fair share of the fun.

“Suck him, Renaud,” Marc urged. “Go on, Jean Paul. Fuck my buddy’s face.”

Renaud let himself be drawn toward Jean-Paul’s bed. Jean-Paul sat on the edge of the mattress and spread his legs, urging Renaud to kneel down on the floor between them. Renaud dipped his head to look closely at the younger man’s cock. Jean-Paul’s prickhead was so close to his mouth that Renaud could have touched it with his lips, but he was suddenly too petrified to move. The penis looked so big, so awesome in its meaty, potent length and thickness, that Renaud felt intimidated by it. His mouth was burning for the taste of that cock, but he was afraid. He longed to put his mouth on it, to suck it, to tap the hot fluid trapped inside it. But his fear of choking on it was momentarily greater than his desire.

“I don’t know, kid,” he said, in a hoarse, nervous whisper. “I don’t know if I can go through with this. You’re hung like a horse!”

“Sure you can. Go ahead,” Jean-Paul encouraged him, pulling again on the back of Renaud’s neck. He seemed to understand Renaud’s timidity, and he was prodding him just enough to give him courage, without frightening him off. He could easily have rammed his prick into Renaud’s mouth and forced him to suck it, but he knew it would be better if the man took it willingly. “Don’t be scared. You can handle it. You’ve sucked Marc’s, haven’t you?”

“Lots of times,” Marc assured Jean-Paul.

“But I still have trouble taking Marc all the way,” Renaud confessed. “I don’t really know how to deep-throat.”

Jean-Paul laughed, softly, and he stroked the hair on the back of Renaud’s neck. “Oh, there’s nothing to it. I’ll be glad to teach you. You’ll be surprised by how easy it is, once you get started.” His hand urged the married man’s head forward again, and this time Renaud moved with it.

He reached for Jean-Paul’s hips and gripped them tightly with both hands. His lips touched the head of the handsome young guy’s big cock, and they parted. His tongue licked out timidly and he tasted the spongy hardness of the glans.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned.

“Suck it,” Jean-Paul coaxed.

“Yeah, suck it,” Marc echoed him. “Get your mouth down on that big, fat cock!”

Renaud’s mouth widened, and with a faint intake of breath, he gorged his mouth with hard cock. He gagged at first and tried to pull back, but Jean-Paul’s hand stroked his neck with a surprising tenderness, reassuring him, and silently urging him to keep the cock in his mouth. This time, Renaud kept just the head of the dick inside his mouth, and he licked at it until he was used to the feel and the taste of it. His fingers tightened their hold on Jean-Paul’s hips. He moved his head in closer to Jean-Paul’s groin, taking more of the cock inside his mouth. It was so thick and so stiff that Renaud’s lips were stretched all the way open around the shaft, and inside his mouth he could barely move his tongue on the surface of the bloated male organ. But he began to rock his head back and forth, working the swollen prick between his lips, forcing himself to take more of it each time he pushed his face forward.

Jean-Paul’s cock was so big that it was impossible for a comparatively inexperienced cocksucker like Renaud to fit all of it comfortably into his mouth. Renaud felt the cockhead pushing down into his throat, and he gagged again. He backed off an inch or two, and then he began to suck on as much of the length of the erection as he could handle. His tongue fluttered up and down on the shaft, while his lips continued to ease it in and out of his mouth. His hands moved around Jean-Paul’s body until they clenched the hard cheeks of his ass. He felt the buttocks moving as Jean-Paul slowly humped his body back and forth on the bed, feeding his prick into Renaud’s mouth in counterpoint to the bobbing of Renaud’s head. Renaud’s senses reeled dizzily. He sucked faster and with greater confidence and abandon, and Jean-Paul continued pumping his cock at his face.

Jean-Paul’s hand touched Renaud’s right arm and pulled it away from his body, guiding it down to Renaud’s lap.

“I’m going to come soon,” Jean-Paul reported, his voice tight with excitement. “Jerk off, man. Jerk yours while you suck mine. I want you to come with me, I want to see your jism fly out of your big cock while I shoot my load down your hot cocksucking throat.” Jean-Paul had been staring down at his own lap, watching Renaud work on him. But now he raised his head and met Marc’s gaze. “Don’t worry, boss,” Jean-Paul told Marc. “I haven’t forgotten you. I don’t want you to feel left out. Once he’s done swallowing my load, you can fuck me. And then you can fuck him, too, if you want to. And, knowing you, I’m sure you’ll be up to it. You can ream out both of our horny butts. Yeah … I want your cock in my ass, Marc … and I want to see you screw your buddy. Then you can tell us which one of us is the better fuck!”

Hearing these depraved suggestions pushed Renaud over the edge. He quickly grasped his own swollen member. He began to masturbate frenziedly while he sucked even harder, driven wild with the thought that he would soon be taking Jean-Paul’s semen into his mouth—tasting it, swallowing it. He wondered what it would taste like, and whether he would be able to swallow it without choking on it. But the question was soon put to the test. Abruptly, Jean-Paul began to gasp, loudly, and both of his hands dug into Renaud’s shoulders. He rammed his pelvis forward to fuck the kneeling cocksucker’s face even more savagely.

His dick burst in the man’s mouth with the force of a hose spurting high-pressure water out of its nozzle. Wad after wad of his thick cream squirted into Renaud’s throat. The force of it and the tart taste of it was all it took to trigger Renaud’s own ejaculation. He felt his semen squirting high into the air, shooting onto Jean-Paul’s legs and the side of the mattress, and dripping down onto the floor and dribbling over his tightly clenched, still pumping fist. And still he sucked on the boy’s meat, as Jean-Paul gave him more and more sperm to swallow, until it seemed that the oversexed young stud would never stop coming.

When at last Jean-Paul did stop unloading, Renaud was reluctant to take his mouth off the boy’s cock. As it began to go limp, he took more of it between his lips, until they were pressed flush into the thick wreath of hair at its base. Only when Jean-Paul’s hands on his shoulders pushed him gently assay did Renaud let go of the dick which he’s enjoyed sucking so much.

He looked up, dazed, into Jean-Paul’s handsome, grinning face, and he felt tears of happiness brimming in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Renaud whispered. “That was incredible!”

“My pleasure,” Jean-Paul responded.

“My pleasure, now,” Marc reminded them, as he reached for the box of condoms and the lubricant which Jean-Paul had ready, beside the bed. “That was quite a show. I enjoyed every moment of it. But now, it’s time for the ‘audience participation’ part of the performance.”

Jean-Paul grinned at him. “Are you going to fuck us both?”

“Both of you,” Marc promised. “One right after the other.”

“Switch back and forth, Marc,” Jean-Paul suggested, as he got up onto the mattress, where he positioned himself on his hands and knees, presenting his ass to Marc. “Get up here beside me, Renaud. Let Marc move back and forth between our two holes.”

Renaud groaned—but he did as Jean-Paul asked. “You guys are insane,” he protested, not very convincingly. “You’re a couple of sex fiends.”

“Yeah, we are,” Jean-Paul said. “And you’re going to make a third!”

Chapter Eight: Threeway—the Only Way!

Marc couldn’t deny it. He was beginning to acquire a taste for threeway sex. After all, he rationalized, if one man in his bed was good, then two men were better!

He and Renaud continued to go to Jean-Paul’s place for trysts.

“Wouldn’t you rather be going out with your friends?” Renaud asked Jean-Paul, one night. The three men were recuperating after a particularly strenuous sex session. “I mean, your friends who are your own age.”

“Oh, I can see them any time I want,” Jean-Paul replied, breezily. “I’d rather be with you guys, at least when it comes to sex. I like older men. I always wanted a daddy. And now I’ve got two of them.”

Renaud was speechless, for the time being. But, during the drive back into the city, he vented.

“Older men!” he exclaimed. “We are not that much older than that kid! And neither of us is anywhere near old enough to be his daddy!”

Marc snickered. “Relax. I don’t think he was using the term literally. Try to remember when you were his age. Thirty probably seemed ancient to you, back then. We’ve got ourselves a hot young number who’d rather fuck us than hang out with his buddies. What have we got to complain about?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Renaud conceded.

“Count your blessings,” Marc advised.

He counted his own. But he liked variety. He was already thinking about finding other partners, if only to mix things up a bit.

He remembered his fantasy about having sex with both Albert and Dimitri at once. Now, after Marc’s recent experiences, that didn’t seem like an insurmountable goal. But when and how to arrange it?

He could hardly believe his luck, when events seemed to play right into his hand.

“Maman wants me to spend a few days with her, in Toulouse,” Ghislaine told her husband, during dinner one evening.

“Does she? Then of course you should go,” Marc replied, doing his best to look and sound casual, even indifferent.

“Maybe I could do it starting next weekend. I could take the Friday afternoon train, and come back on Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“Or on Thursday, or later,” Marc suggested. “Why rush it? You may as well give yourself a nice long visit, so you and your mother can spend some time together and catch up.”

“Then I’ll go on Friday,” Ghislaine declared, decisively. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay. I’ll decide that, later, and let you know. Can’t you come with me?”

“I’d love to,” Marc lied. “But I have work to do next weekend. I may even go in to the office, on Saturday or Sunday. I won’t mind doing that, if you won’t be here. It’ll keep me from getting bored, without you.”

“You work too hard.”

“No, just hard enough. And you know that one of the reasons I do it is so you can enjoy yourself. Yes, you go to Toulouse, ma cherie, and have a good time. Give your mother my love. Tell her we’ll see her at Christmastime, definitely.”

A weekend—and more—without his wife! This was a gift from heaven, and Marc had no intention of squandering it. He soon got busy on his cellphone.

His first call was to Albert.

“How’s it hanging?” he asked his black fuck buddy, crudely.

“I could use a hot mouth or ass to shove it into,” Albert responded, just as lewdly. “Why? Are you volunteering?”

“You bet I am. My wife’s going to be out of town again, next weekend,” Marc said. “Can you make some excuse, and come to my place for a few hours on Saturday evening?”

“I don’t know,” Albert replied. “I’d like to. But what the hell am I supposed to tell my wife?”

“I’ve already thought about that. Tell her you have to install an especially elaborate sound system, and because the customer is spending so much money, your boss agreed that you’d do it outside of usual business hours.”

“Well … I’ve got to admit … that does sound plausible. Not the first time it’s happened, actually.”

“Just don’t forget to take your tool box with you, when you leave your place.”

“What do you think I am, stupid?”

“I’m just trying to make sure all the bases are covered. Now, listen. Do you like threesomes?”

“You bet I do. I love them! What’s not to like?”

“I want this to be a real orgy,” Marc declared, salaciously. “I’m going to hire this really hot escort whom I’ve hired before, from an agency. He’s a gorgeous young blond number who’ll do anything. Suck, fuck, rim—you name it. The boy is a goddamn sex machine.”

“Shit! That sounds exciting. But I can’t afford to pay for sex.”

“You won’t have to. It’s my treat. Oh, and I’m throwing in dinner, too, so don’t eat at home on Saturday night. Trust me, I’m not a bad cook. I’ll expect you here at eight, and you plan on spending at least three or four hours at my house—okay?”

“Talk about an offer a guy can’t refuse,” Albert grumbled, good-naturedly. “Damn. I wouldn’t miss this for anything! It’s a date.”

The moment he and Albert hung up, Marc called the escort service. To his delight, Gino was on phone duty.

“Hi, Gino. It’s me again—Marc Remy.”

“It’s always good to hear from you, Monsieur Remy. What can I do for you today?” Gino asked.

“Saturday night,” Marc began to say. He could hear the excitement in his own voice, and he fought to maintain some semblance of self-control. “I mean, this upcoming Saturday night. I want to book Dimitri.”

“He’s available then. So—I take it your first time with him was satisfactory?”

“Oh, it was more than satisfactory.”

“I’m so glad.”

“This is a special occasion, so I’m sparing no expense. I want to hire Dimitri for an overnighter, starting at eight on Saturday evening. Tell him I’ll make him dinner, and brunch on Sunday morning. So he might want to bring along his toothbrush, and a change of clothes.”

“Will do,” Gino promised. “I’m starting to feel envious!”

“Ah—one thing more, Gino. I’ve invited a third guy, a buddy of mine. It’s going to be a threesome. Do you charge extra, when one of your boys is expected to take care of more than one customer?”

“No, not at all,” Gino assured Marc, smoothly. “We charge strictly by the hour—or, in this case, our standard overnight rate. But of course, if Dmitri keeps providing more than satisfactory service, you might think about increasing his tip, accordingly. That’s between you and him.”

“Of course,” Marc agreed. “One other thing. My friend is a really good-looking black guy, with muscles out to here, and a huge cock. He likes to fuck. I know Dimitri is a Russian. Can I assume that he doesn’t have any racial prejudices?”

“God, now I’m really envious! Too bad I’m on duty here on Saturday night,” Gino joked. “Listen—in our line of work, a guy has to take what comes,” he pointed out, more seriously. “Dimitri is very professional, and he really enjoys his work. He doesn’t discriminate. But I’ll have a word with him, so he’ll know exactly what to expect.” There was a brief pause. “Okay, I’ve got everything entered into the computer. You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Gino. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Sometime, you and I are going to have to go out on a date.”

“Hmm, I may hold you to that. You might be pleasantly surprised. I’m no Dimitri, but I’m not exactly repulsive, if I do say so myself.”

During the next few days, Marc seemed to be in a fever of erotic anticipation. He was surprised that Ghislaine suspected nothing. On Friday, he drove her to the train station, and saw her off. Then Marc had only Friday night, and Saturday morning and afternoon to suffer through, before the homosexual debauch which he had so carefully planned for Saturday night.

Albert showed up at Marc’s house first—wearing his blue jumpsuit, and carrying his tool box.

“This is such a farce,” he complained, as Marc let him in. “Lying to my wife—it bothers me.”

“You’ll get used to it. Relax,” Marc urged him. “Sit down. Have some wine. And listen to some music. I love the new system, by the way.”

“Where’s the whore boy?” Albert asked, bluntly.

“He’ll be here, any minute now. He’s a good kid. Be nice to him.”

Dimitri was punctual. He pulled into the driveway, behind Albert’s car, exactly one minute before eight.

Marc introduced his guests to each other, and served them wine.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Marc promised. “Why don’t you guys find some music, to put on?”

Albert and Dimitri conferred together, and they chose the recording of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, interestingly enough.

“I like opera,” Dimitri remarked.

“I can take it or leave it—but this is cool,” Albert said, as the overture began.

Marc served salad and bouillabaisse as the first courses, accompanied by thick pieces of bread torn from a freshly baked round loaf, and buttered. The main course was stuffed pasta shells and sausages, slathered in a thick, rich tomato sauce with garlic and onion, and garnished with grated cheese.

To Marc’s delight, his two guests ate with genuine, uninhibited hunger, using pieces of the bread to sop up the residue on their plates. For dessert, Marc produced an elegant little almond cake, store bought from a fancy bakery which Ghislaine often patronized.

They had their coffee in the living room, while Marc explained the story of the opera to Albert. “Spoiler alert. Don Giovanni gets dragged down to hell, at the end,” he said.

“Why?” Albert asked.

Marc shrugged. “Divine retribution for his sins.”

“From what you’ve told me, and what I’ve heard so far, the dude is a horny bastard, that’s all,” Albert quipped. “Going to hell—that seems like a pretty harsh punishment, for having a stiff prick and knowing what to do with it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Marc said. “Hey—do you guys want to snort some coke?”

“If it’s the same good stuff I had the last time I was here—bring it on,” Albert said.

Dimitri, Marc noticed, snorted the coke with real enthusiasm. So did Albert.

“Why don’t we get undressed?” Marc suggested, during the second act of the opera.

Soon, all three men were naked, their clothes strewn over the living room floor.

“Stay put for now,” Marc suggested. “Excuse me for a minute.” He fetched a bottle of water-based gel lubricant and a box of condoms from his bedroom.

Albert was sitting beside Dimitri on the couch, listening to the music. They were both stoned—as was their host. Marc put a condom on Albert’s erect cock, coated the latex with the lubricant, and then, shamelessly, he sat on Albert’s dick.

“Shove it up into me,” Marc insisted. “Oh, yeah—give me that big, black cock. Let me sit on the motherfucker. Let me ride it. Damn! You’re so big. So thick. I want to feel that big thing going in and out of me. Oh, fuck… goddamn … it’s really filling me up, it’s really doing a number on my ass!”

“Shit,” Dimitri agreed, staring down at Marc’s asshole, which was being split open so dramatically by Albert’s dusky-hued prick. “You’re really reaming out the horny son of a bitch!” The drug-taking had loosened his tongue, somewhat. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have spoken so coarsely in the presence of a paying customer—unless, of course, dirty talk was what the john wanted.

“He likes it,” Albert gloated. “Yeah, he really likes taking a big dick up his ass. Fucking cock whore … what his wife doesn’t know, won’t hurt her. The bitch is on the down low, all right. He likes taking a dick up his ass. Look at him ride that big black cock of mine. He likes it. Oh, yeah—he likes it a lot! Goddam whore!”

“I’m a whore, too,” Dimitri volunteered.

“I know you are, boy,” Albert said, amicably.

“I like to have cock up my ass, too.”

“I just bet you do. Yeah, you’re a pretty little blond, white slut. You like sex, don’t you?”

“Any kind of sex, with any man—yes.”

“Fucking whore.”

“Try me,” Dimitri taunted Albert. “You might like it!”

“Bitch,” Albert growled. “You just wait until I’m done with our buddy Marc, here. Then I’ll ream out your ass for you. I’ll fuck you, good!”

“Looking forward to it, big man,” Dimitri scoffed.

“If you two are done debating,” Marc groaned. “Fuck me, Albert, and come in my ass. I’m not a patient man. I need to feel a dick shooting off in my hole!”

“You want my cum?” Albert asked.

“Hell, yes!” Marc cried.

“Then take it, bitch! Ride my cock … fuck, you’re doing it to me, I’m going to come in your hot ass. I just wish I wasn’t wearing a frigging rubber … yeah, I wish I was fucking you raw, and breeding your ass. White bitch … white whore … you take my black man’s sperm, up your white ass, and you love it. Fucking slut!”

“Yeah, I love it,” Marc babbled, as he rode the black man’s cock. “I love it, the way your cock feels in my asshole. Go on. Fuck it, fill it. Oh, fuck that ass! I want to be your cum dump, man. I want to be your fuck hole. I want to be fucked, and fucked!”

“Bitch, you’ve been fucked,” Albert said, as he pulled his prick out of Marc’s ass.

“I sure have,” Marc gloated. With perfect timing, Albert had ejaculated during Don Giovanni’s descent to hell. Marc found the remote control and turned off the compact disc player. Then he picked up the rubbers and lube. “Come on, guys. For the encore, let’s go into the bedroom.”

“Is there any more coke?” Albert asked.

“Plenty,” his host said.

In the bedroom, they snorted more cocaine.

“You sure know how to party, Marc,” Albert complimented him, as he stood next to Dimitri. Putting his arm around the Russian’s waist, Albert gave him an intimate little man-to-man hug.

Marc climbed onto the bed, from where he stared covetously at the other two naked men—admiring the contrast between Albert’s dark skin and Dimitri’s ruddy fairness.

“I’m ready for Round Two,” Marc announced. Oh, hell,” he lamented. “I’m more than ready! My hole is still burning hot. Come on, guys. I need something—anything—in there!”

Albert, still breathing hard from the exertion of screwing Marc, watched Dmitri moved forward and join Marc on the bed. Dimitri seized Marc’s buttocks in his hands and forced them wide apart. Burying his face between the ass cheeks, Dimitri began to lick Marc’s exposed and freshly fucked asshole, penetrating it with his tongue.

Albert moved in closer to the other two men, to get a better view of the rimming. Reaching around Dmitri, he captured the Russian’s swollen cockhead in the palm of his hand and he began to play with it.

Marc sighed when he felt Dimitri’s tongue enter his exposed asshole and proceed thoroughly to rim him. Marc’s large dick lay stiff and throbbing against his belly, and as Dimitri’s tongue flicked in and out of his asshole, Marc saw that Albert was now standing behind Dimitri, pushing his cockshaft between the bent-over youth’s thighs. Albert was also playing with Dimitri’s cock, exciting him to fever pitch, so that the blond boy’s tongue in Marc’s ass licked him at even faster pace.

“That’s right,” Albert told Dimitri. “Suck his ass. Get it good and loosened up, and ready for our dicks. Let’s both fuck him, boy. Our buddy Marc needs a lot of cock to keep that hole of his satisfied.”

Albert grabbed the box of condoms. He unrolled one rubber down over his own prick, and then, with great dexterity, he managed to fit a second rubber onto Dimitri, without interrupting the young hustler’s rimming of Marc’s ass.

“You ready to get fucked some more?” Albert asked Marc. A rhetorical question, if Marc had ever heard one!

“Yeah … fuck me … both of you, fuck me, one after the other,” Marc demanded.

Taking his face from between Marc’s ass cheeks, Dimitri now moved forward, trying to push his cockhead into Marc’s saliva-lubricated asshole. But it was Albert who managed to wedge his body between Dimitri’s and Marc’s, and to push his thick, freshly latex-sheathed dick into Marc’s relaxed asshole. Marc groaned as that throbbing cock knob stretched the rim of his anus wide open for the second time that night—and then he groaned again, more loudly and in sheer ecstasy, when the entire length of Albert’s cockshaft sank inside him.

“Oh, that feels familiar,” Marc declared. “That feels good.”

“Sorry, kid,” Albert told the disappointed Dmitri. “You’re going to have to wait your turn. I just have to have that hot ass of his again!”

“Now that you’re in there again, fuck me again,” Marc demanded. “Fuck me hard!”

“You got it, buddy.”

Albert, now kneeling on the edge of the bed, with his cock jammed up into Marc’s butt, started to push forward, urging Marc to move into a more secure position in the center of the mattress. Eventually, they made it. Albert the stretched out his well-muscled body on top of Marc at full length, and he began to fuck Marc with long, steady strokes, enjoying once again the tightness and the responsiveness of that talented ass.

Marc, feeling his black lover’s shaft begin to plunge in and out of his asshole, reached back and, grasping his own ass cheeks, pulled them as wide open as he could, giving his fucker free access to ram his prick up into him as hard as he could. Albert put his arms around Marc’s waist, holding him in place against him while he screwed him.

Dimitri, meanwhile, at first found himself in the position of an observer, lying on the bed beside the other two men. Soon, though, he joined in the action. After playing with Albert’s ass, he inserted two of his fingers into it. Then, while the black stud fucked Marc, Dimitri gave Albert’s asshole a good, hard finger-fucking, probing its depths while Albert’s butt pumped up and down.

Albert was quickly approaching his climax, and he started to grunt as he shoved his cock up into Marc’s anus faster and more forcefully. Each time his ass rose in the air after each thrust, he felt Dimitri’s fingers pushing up into his own anus, relentlessly fingering it. In the dim light of the bedroom, all three men’s skins now shone with perspiration.

Marc, feeling Albert’s shaft swell and throb inside him, pulled his buttocks farther apart, and pushed his spread ass cheeks back to meet the steady phallic onslaught between them. His own prick was jerking violently, but he resisted the temptation to touch it, and he fought to delay his own ejaculation. He remembered that Dimitri, lying by their side, no doubt intended to fuck him after Albert shot his load. Marc wanted to save his own cum for that, if possible.

With a mighty heave forward, and a loud cry of pleasure, Albert let his whole weight come down on Marc’s body. Gyrating his hips in an effort to force even more of his prick up inside Marc’s rectum, he spurted out his semen in a gushing wave of blissful release. Dimitri, who had now gotten three of his fingers up inside Albert’s ass, continued to fuck him with them while Albert came, until at last Albert’s swollen prick began to relax and run dry.

After a few seconds, during which he regained his breath, Albert started to pull his spent cock out of Marc’s asshole. The condom sagged from the glans of his penis, weighed down by its load of cum.

“I can’t believe I shot so much again, so soon,” Albert gloated, as he stripped off the rubber.

“Let me have that cum,” Marc begged.

“Man! You are kinky!” Albert exclaimed.

Marc sat up on the bed and took the rubber from Albert’s hand. As though he was slurping an oyster from its shell, he raised the open end of the condom to his lips and carefully titled it, allowing the semen to spill into his mouth.

“Oh, that tastes so good,” Marc moaned.

He had managed not to ejaculate, despite the excitement he had felt when Albert started to cone inside him. Now Marc was glad he hadn’t come yet, because he could see Dimitri’s fuck tool in the dim light, sticking out from between the young Russian’s sturdy legs in all its erect glory. Even through the translucent condom which Dimitri still wore, Marc could see that the large glans of his penis was leaking pre-cum. Quickly, Marc positioned himself on the bed on all fours.

“Time for Round Three,” he announced.

Dimitri needed no further coaching. Eagerly, he knelt behind Marc, and no sooner had he placed his potent prick against Marc’s still-tingling asshole, than Marc pushed himself backward, impaling himself upon the male prostitute’s shaft with ease.

“Fuck me,” Marc said—unnecessarily. Dimitri knew his business, and he didn’t hesitate. He began to hump Marc at once.

Marc was already at the boiling point as a result of the double fucking he had just received from Albert. He just wanted to be fucked, and fucked—over and over again. Crouched on the bed on all fours, with his red lips open and glistening with spittle, and his nostrils drawn back, Marc panted for breath. He pumped his ass back and forth on Dimitri’s rigid prickshaft with an abandon so great that Dimitri didn’t find it necessary to move at all. His john seemed determined to do all the work. So Dimitri simply crouched over Marc and allowed the sexed-up married stud to fuck himself as fast as he could on Dimitri’s quivering fuck rod. Dimitri usually enjoyed his work, but on this occasion he was having such a good time that he almost forget he was servicing a paying customer. He found it intensely pleasurable to be used like this for the other man’s anal satisfaction, and he started to moan in excitement as Marc’s hot ass shot back and forth, Marc’s hard-muscled little buttocks slapping against Dimitri’s stomach each time Marc launched his body recklessly backward.

For all practical purposes, Marc was fucking Dmitri, not the other way around. The sperm was being sucked out of Dimitri’s jerking cock, as though he had stuck it inside a vacuum cleaner’s nozzle. But no vacuum cleaner could have been more efficient at deflating a man’s erection that Marc’s horny ass. Dmitri could feel his jism already gathering, ready to shoot out of his piss slit and fill the reservoir tip of the rubber. He didn’t want to come so soon, but he couldn’t help it.

Marc didn’t pause for a second, but pumped his ass back and forth as well as swinging it from side to side. Dimitri, his torso rigid, released his semen in a hot, wet rush. As the first spurt filled the condom on his cock and he arched his back slightly, ready to shoot another jet of creamy liquid, he let his chest rest of Marc’s back. Reaching for Marc’s cock, he grasped the large, slippery knob and massaged it.

He didn’t have to coax Marc into an orgasm. While Dimitri was still discharging his cum inside his asshole, Marc blasted a torrent of his own jism onto the bed under them, soaking a large area of the sheets. Marc wished he could go on firing his juices forever, as, at the same time, his asshole contracted around Dimitri’s rigid, spasming fuck tool, holding it tightly in an anal grip.

Albert, who had watched the two men fuck with intense interest, now leaned over and kissed each of them on the mouth in turn. During the kissing, Dimitri continued to unload into Marc’s ass, and Marc’s cock continued to soil the bed with his showering semen.

“Hot,” Albert declared, breathlessly, after he reluctantly pulled his tongue out of Marc’s juicy mouth. “That was really hot, watching you two white boys go at each other.”

“I’m fucked out,” Marc complained, happily. “I need to take a break—”

Wearily, all three of them settled down on the bed. Marc lay between Albert and Dimitri. He turned toward Dimitri, and as they pressed their bodies closely together, Dimitri kissed Marc with a fervor which almost got him going again. He put his tongue into Dimitri’s open mouth, and his prick, which was pushing against Dimitri’s butt, stiffened involuntarily. But post-orgasmic fatigue once again overcame both men, at least for the moment, and finally they stopped kissing, and Marc’s head rested on Dimitri’s shoulder.

Marc was almost drifting off to sleep when he heard the familiar sound of a condom packet being torn open. Then Albert, slipping his arm around Marc, pressed his newly-stiffened cock between Marc’s buttocks as Marc lay there facing Dimitri. Gently, Albert pushed his dick against Marc’s asshole, and he was instantly rewarded when it slipped inside without meting any resistance.

“I can’t believe you’re horny again, so soon,” Marc murmured. But he wasn’t complaining. Far from it!

“I bounce back fast,” Albert boasted.

“So I see. I guess I might as well do some bouncing, too—up and down on that big dick of yours,” Marc retorted.

His anus had been well stretched by the two fuckings he had already received. Slowly and gently, Albert used Marc’s asshole, and it wasn’t long before he stiffened from head to foot, and, without making a sound, released yet another load of semen into Marc’s rectum.

“I can’t get enough of your hot ass,” Albert said.

“And I can’t get enough of your cock,” Marc replied.

“At this rate, we’re going to run out of rubbers.”

“No danger. I’m well supplied.”

“Our friend Dimitri doesn’t seem to have much to say.”

“He’s fast asleep,” Marc realized. “Well, let him take a little nap. He’s earned it—along with his money.”

“I’ll leave you two guys to it. I’d better get going,” Albert said, with audible reluctance.

“Not yet,” Marc urged.

“I’ve got to get home to my wife eventually, you know.”

“I know. I understand. But a few more minutes won’t matter. One more … give me one more fuck for the road,” Marc pleaded. Suddenly feeling reenergized, he pushed his butt back against Albert’s groin. The black man’s cock, still sheathed in the latex prophylactic, was still firmly wedged deep inside Marc’s ass. Tightening his anal muscles around its bulk, Marc began to fuck himself on the other married man’s cock.

Albert groaned. “You’re going to wear me out, you horny bastard.”

Marc laughed. “That’s my plan. How am I doing, so far?”

“Fine … you’re doing just fine!”

Rather than remaining passive, and allowing his cock to be used by Marc for his anal pleasure, Albert stirred behind Marc. Then he began to take a much more active part in their sex, fucking Marc with long, sure strokes.

The action made the mattress move beneath the three men’s bodies. Awakened, Dmitri turned and saw what Albert and Marc were doing beside him. Excited by the sight of Marc getting fucked, Dimitri twisted his body around and went down on Marc’s cock, sucking him while Albert continued to fuck him.

Marc abandoned himself to the sex. Nothing, he was sure, could compare to this intense pleasure … to the joy of sharing his body with other men. For him, as a married man, it was a forbidden pleasure, to be sure. But the fact that he was indulging in the taboo only added to his thrill.

The End

Also by Henri Couesnon

Available exclusively on Amazon Kindle:

After Hours Gym

Black Leather Nights

Bunkhouse Gangbang

Lakeside Nights

Let’s Try It Bi

Make Love to Me and My Wife

Marriage Parisian Style

Muscle Heat

Muscle Worship

Night Prowl

Seaport of Dreams

Seducing His Student

Steam Driven

The Biker’s New Boy

The Elusive Object of My Desire

The Mountaineer