That Time I Watched A Man Fuck My Boyfriend

Perhaps it was the discovery of a bottle of poppers in the bedside table, or it might have been that his friend was just so fucking horny that night. Either way, the stars were aligned for passionate boy-on-boy action. It almost doesn’t sound believable now, I guess, even to me as I delve into my mental vault to pull out another hot memory to share. But it wasn’t a dream; I really did watch a man fuck my boyfriend. And I really fucking enjoyed it.

I shouldn’t have been surprised at the escalation in their friendship really; after all my boyfriend had already sucked his cock. The required sex health checks for everyone involved had been considered and very recently completed; all good. Although my man isn’t the submissive type, he’s very bisexual. So am I. With consent, permission, the right circumstances… we can find ourselves in some very interesting situations.

All you need to know about the other guy is that he’s a filthy bastard who is all about the fucking. Cocky, in all ways.

It’s always difficult to pinpoint exactly how these things start. My memory jumps from a chilled evening amongst friends to my boyfriend moaning in ecstasy as his friend’s cock ploughed his arse deeply and beautifully. Well I say ecstasy, there was more than a hint of pain in there – as is often the case with anal sex. Not enough to completely stop the action, just enough to remind him that he’s being thoroughly violated in the dirtiest of ways.

A range of scenes, feelings, facial expressions and noises go through my mind when I recall that night. The night I watched a man fuck my boyfriend up the arse.

He was told in no uncertain terms to get on all fours. Fingers lubed up his arse entrance – and I, fascinated, watched someone other than me give my boyfriend such intimate attention. Fingers slipping in and out of his hole – and that squelching, sexual in-out finger-fuckery giving birth to his first moans and groans of pleasure. Seeing him physically relax into the moment, the feelings, and give his body over for this man to fuck. Face already blissed out, eyes closed and god knows what going through his mind other than fuck me now.

His friend decided my boyfriend was ready enough. I watched, entranced, holding my breath as he expertly re-stiffened his cock one-handed. His other, the butt-filthy and lubed hand, rested on my man’s buttock. Holding him, ready for mounting. Like some wank sleeve he was about to ejaculate his pent-up need into.

The tip of his sizeable and impressively hard cock was now exposed, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny head after his quick preparatory tug. Both hands held on to my boyfriend’s sides now, as my man remained in position on all fours undoubtedly bracing himself for invasion. His friend’s hands pulled his cheeks apart slightly, letting him position his cock tip right on that puckered, lube-coated entrance.

The guy pushed. Not a fast, deep, sudden ramming. Just a gentle nudge to get the tip of his cock inside my man. It was then I heard my boyfriend cry out for the first (but definitely not the last) time that night. A strangled, conflicted cry combining all the pain, horror and aghastness of oh-my-god stop with all the sweet delight, satisfaction and need of for fuck’s sake, don’t stop.

The filthy bastard just smiled. The wicked and evil smile of a man who knows he has his prey right where he wants him, and he’s going to squeeze out & enjoy every ounce of perverted pleasure.

He pushed some more. I saw my boyfriend’s hands, then. The flash of skin as his nails clawed into the pillow, which he also used to muffle his second piteous, and clit-tingling, cry. His body betrayed him though. Moans escaped his lips; louder then, as he couldn’t help but throw his head back as the slow-but-certain arse fucking continued. His fingers were still curled in a death-grip around the pillow, but his back arched. Audibly ragged breaths were drawn between moans and he pushed his arse back on to that invading cock.

It was like I was fucking him myself. I could almost feel him bearing back down on every inch of my non-existent erect cock. If I wasn’t worried it would halt the action, I would have plunged my fingers deep inside my sopping cunt to soothe the urgently aching need.

Eventually the arse fucking became smoother. Less of the painful incremental movements and more fluid in-and-out sex. The grip on the pillow loosened and my boyfriend’s eyes flickered open at times, only to squeeze tightly closed again on the increasingly deeper in-stroke.

I could just about see, through all the bodies and action, his incredibly stiff cock bouncing underneath him. The sensitive tip stroked against the duvet beneath while his arse was fucked harder and harder, just adding to his growing need. Unable to resist any more, one of his hands moved down. He was obviously intent on wanking himself while he enjoyed the arse fucking.

His filthy friend was having none of it. He leaned in closer, making his cock invade my boyfriend’s arse to the deepest extent yet, while reaching round to slap his hand out of the way. Instead, he took hold of my man’s previously neglected cock and started to pump him. His fingers sliding up and down that pre-cum lubed shaft in the same rhythm as his cock was penetrating his arse.

All of this seemed to take both moments and an age. I remember their faces, contorted with the pleasure and the exhibitionism and the sheer filthy satisfaction of it all. I remember the heat pouring off them both, and my joy in seeing real guys together like this, gritty, imperfect, not the oiled bronze muscles of gay porn. My cunt, aching to be touched and filled and used and fucked, just as I was watching his arse get used and fucked. My clit and nipples screaming at me for attention too. Throat caught in the excitement of being present, watching, sharing.

Then the climax: his friend unable to stave off his need any more. Tossing his head back and squeezing his own eyes closed, he growled some unintelligible utterance as he shot his hot load into my boyfriend’s arse. His hand left my man’s cock for that moment, both hands gripping my boyfriend’s arse to steady himself as he surged forward into the orgasm.

The room fell silent except for the heavily-drawn breaths of all three of us. In time, they both regained some composure, his friend still in his climax-stance even though his cock was no doubt in post-orgasm wilt and sliding from position. Bastard or not, he reached round to toss my boyfriend off without even asking. Damp patch? It was more like a paddling pool. And so were my knickers.

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