"I never thought my first threesome would hit me like this—like stepping off a cliff and realizing mid-fall that the drop was exactly what I’d been craving my whole damn life.i was 45 wished my whloe life for a man on man 3some. I’d only ever been with giys alone. Nothing prepared me for the night I said yes to Jake and marcus.
We’d met on an app—nothing sleazy, just a chill group chat that turned flirty over weeks of memes and dirty jokes. Jake was the tall, one with the deep voice that made my stomach flip every time he sent a voice note. Marcus was leaner, tattooed, with this cocky grin and eyes that promised he knew exactly how to wreck someone. They’d been together a couple years, open, and when they floated the idea of bringing in a curious bi guy for a night, I laughed it off at first.
Then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The fantasy kept me up for days: being in the middle, no escape, just hands and mouths and the overwhelming feeling of being wanted by two men at once.
We set it up for a Friday at their place. I showed up with a bottle of wine as suggested and a knot in my gut the size of a fist.
The apartment smelled like sandalwood and something warmer, like skin and anticipation. Jake pulled me into a hug that lingered, Marcus kissed me first—slow, testing—then Jake joined in, and suddenly I was sandwiched between them on the couch, shirts already off, hands everywhere. My heart was hammering so hard I thought they could hear it.
“Relax” Marcus murmured against my mouth. “We’ve got you.”
They took their time. Clothes disappeared one piece at a time. I ended up naked first, which felt vulnerable as hell but also electric. They laid me out on their big bed, the sheets cool against my back. Jake knelt between my legs and sucked me down his throat like he’d been starving for it, while Marcus fed me his cock—thick, heavy, the head already slick. I’d sucked dick before, but never while someone was worshipping mine at the same time. The dual sensation short-circuited my brain. I was moaning around Marcus, hips twitching up into Jake’s mouth, lost in the wet heat and the salty taste and the low groans they were making because of me.
After a while they flipped me. Jake lubed his fingers and opened me up slow and careful, two, then three, until I was pushing back on his hand like a slut in heat. I’d bottomed once before, years ago, and it had been awkward and over too fast. This was different. This was deliberate. Marcus kept kissing me through it, stroking my cock, whispering filthy praise—“Look at you, taking his fingers so pretty. Gonna look even better on his dick.”
When Jake finally lined up, I was on all fours, Marcus kneeling in front of me. The first push of Jake’s cock against my hole made me gasp. He was bigger than his fingers, thicker, and the stretch burned in the best way. He went slow, inch by inch, one hand rubbing circles on my lower back while Marcus held my face and told me to breathe. When Jake bottomed out, balls-deep, the fullness was so intense I actually whimpered. I felt split open, owned, and so fucking full I could barely think.
Then Marcus tapped my lips with his cock. “Open up, sweetheart.”
I did. And that’s when everything changed.
Jake started moving—long, steady strokes that dragged over my prostate with every thrust. At the same time, Marcus slid into my mouth, fucking my face in the same rhythm. I was caught between them, completely filled at both ends. My eyes watered. My throat relaxed around Marcus’s length, and I tried to breathe through my nose while Jake’s hips slapped against my ass. The sounds were obscene—wet sucking, skin on skin, their low moans mixing with my muffled cries.
I couldn’t speak. I could barely think. Every nerve in my body was lit up. Jake’s cock was hitting that spot inside me over and over, sending sparks up my spine that made my own dick throb untouched against the sheets. Marcus’s hand was in my hair, gentle but firm, guiding me deeper until my nose pressed into his trimmed pubes. The taste of him—salt and skin and pure man—flooded my mouth. I was drooling.
They found a perfect rhythm. When Jake pulled back, Marcus pushed in. When Marcus eased out to let me breathe, Jake slammed home. I was a conduit, a toy, a living, breathing vessel for their pleasure—and mine. My mind kept fracturing into little pieces of pure sensation: the burn in my ass turning into molten pleasure, the weight of Marcus on my tongue, the way my balls drew up tight because I was so close already and no one had even touched my cock in minutes.
Jake reached around and finally wrapped a hand around me. One stroke and I was gone. I came harder than I ever had in my life—shooting across the sheets, body convulsing, ass clenching around Jake so tight he cursed and fucked me through it. The orgasm rolled on and on, waves of it crashing while they kept using me. Marcus groaned my name and flooded my throat. I swallowed what I could, the rest spilling down my chin as he pulled out and painted my lips with the last few pulses.
Jake wasn’t done. He gripped my hips and railed me, chasing his own release. Every thrust made me whimper—oversensitive, wrecked, but still pushing back because I needed him to come inside me. When he finally did, buried to the hilt, I felt the hot rush of it, felt him throb and pulse deep in my guts. He collapsed over my back, kissing my neck, whispering how fucking perfect I was.
We stayed like that for a minute, all three of us breathing hard. Then they gently pulled out—first Marcus, then Jake. I felt empty and sore and used in the most incredible way. Cum leaked down my thighs. My jaw ached. My hole twitched, already missing the stretch.
They cleaned me up with warm washcloths, kissed every bruise and bite mark they’d left, and pulled me into the middle of the bed. I lay there between them, head on Jake’s chest, Marcus spooned behind me, fingers lazily tracing my spent cock. I was floating. High on endorphins and the realization that I’d just lived out the dirtiest, most beautiful fantasy I’d ever had.
Later, after we’d napped and eaten leftover pizza naked on the couch, they asked if I was okay. I laughed—actually laughed—because “okay” didn’t even cover it. I felt reborn. Like I’d finally unlocked some secret part of myself that had been waiting years to be claimed.
That night I learned what it really meant to be a slut in the fullest sense: not just liking both, but surrendering to both at once. Being topped while I sucked a guy—being the center of their world, filled and fucked and praised until I couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the others began—was the most intense, vulnerable, powerful thing I’d ever done.
I still get hard just remembering the way Jake’s cock felt dragging over my prostate while Marcus’s filled my throat. The stretch. The taste. The way they both came because of me. Because I let them.
And yeah… I’ve been back to their place a few more times since then. But nothing will ever top that first time—when I went from a bi guy to the luckiest man alive, spit-roasted and loving every filthy second of it."
OMG, what a fantastic recollection. I crave this exact same experience for myself. |
