Alone, In A Room

Casper1980

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May 5, 2019
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Location
London (Greater London, England)
Sexuality
100% Gay, 0% Straight
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Male
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There he was, finally alone.

It had been a long day of shooting and he was tired. there was effort in being effortless. In being casually, aloofly seductive. In pumping is muscles to marble carved definition.

He dropped his clothing in the floor, and eschewing the mirror and his night skincare ritual, threw himself in the bed.

It felt luxurious under his sore muscles. and he stretched on his back. But the moments passed by and the sleep did not come.

He restlessly turned around and flipped on the TV. He pressed the channel button in the remote control mindlessly, resting less than a three seconds in each. T

He stopped at porn. It was glossy and colourful and the lace thong splitting the girls’ peach like ass was appealing. He decided to leave it in the background, not certain that he would actually want to jack off yet.

He opened his legs and felt his bulge as he observed.

One beautiful girl, dark haired, generously hipped girl.

Two fairly muscular guys, with skins untouched by tattoos.

And while his natural desire led him to focus on the roundness of her plumped breasts, his competitive gaze couldn’t help but notice theirs as well. To compare. They were surprisingly well developed. In that they were the sort of muscular that came across as natural, and not from a bottle. One olive skinned, like the girl, with a compact, shaped muscle structure that made him look like a Greek hero of the past, in full armour. The other, tall and lanky and lanky muscled - with ebony dark skin that glowed under the lights of the studio.

The girl, he would call her Aspasia, sat on the lap of the Greek hero. He called him Pericles. Pericles kissed her nipples lovingly, popping them out of their lace bustier. The ebony skinned one, whom he had called in his mind Memnon, approached them from behind. He rubbed his hard dick on the crease of her ass while kissing her neck.

He watched in fascination, as both men inched over, closer and closer until they kissed over her swan like neck. The kiss wasn’t perfunctory. It was deep. Tongues were involved.

He stopped, and over his bulge, feeling the blood drained from his nascent erection just a fraction. He frowned and reached for the control to switch it, but he stopped. Aspasia wriggled like a serpent between the two hard bodies, happily sliding her hand between her thighs at the sight of the ardour of the men above and below her.

He reconsidered. He was a modern guy, after all. He had worked in fashion for years. He had seen it all before. And the girl was hot, and she was horny. And the men were attractive, well built, in a way that was uncommonly beautiful. And he liked beauty. The reasons to keep it on pilled on his brain as his finger stopped pressing the channel button. He left it on.

The film was surprisingly without musing. The slapping of their bodies, the sounds of their moans filled his silent room. It was as if he was looking at a trio of lovers having sex while sitting in their room.

Slowly, but the deliberately, the focus of the film shifted to the two men. Their passionate embraces. Their vying for pleasuring her clit with fingers and tongues, the way their bodies crossed, glistening with sweat when they did so. A swirl of colours and of sweaty, well lit skin.

His cock stretched his briefs to the point where his pubes were showing. He couldn’t help be surprised at how hard he was.

Fuck.

In the loneliness of the room he could admit that it wasn’t just because of the girl. It was because of the men with the girl. And the men on their own. Because of the hunger.

Hot was hot. And they were hot, all of them.

Aspasia was calling the shots now. she grabbed Memnon by his curly hair and shoved it down Pericles’s cock. And he sucked it. Nursed it like a starving wolf.

his hand left the remote control and reach within the pouch of his briefs. It was humid from swear and pre-cum. He squeezed. he pumped it.


Hi brain rationalised it. A hardon was a hardon. He was not gay. He was not bi. He had a girlfriend. He was just appreciating beauty, the fine turn of muscles. The passion. The hunger of the three of them. The contrast of colours. The cinematography. The cocks bouncing with desire. Her dominant stance. The shapely curve of Memnon’s ass. The way that if looked as smooth as silk. Pericles’s perked up nipples. His olive coloured eyes.


And so he pumped his own cock, a spectator to a forbidden show, alone, in the silence of the room. He pumped and squeezed it until the fabric of his underwear was translucent. He pumped it until he came all over himself and the covers of the bed.