Season 2, Episode 5: Standing Appointment
(Erotic Short)
Synopsis: Jace and his wife Diana typically
have a weekly appointment with a young, biker male escort (Stevie) for a very
heterosexual threesome. But when Diana leaves the country, and Jace has
forgotten to cancel, the two men take the time to bond with one another.
This story is a copyright by Mr. Maleficent of the Maleficent Journal and an act of
complete fiction. Please always remember to wrap it up.
He came to the
door fresh off of a 2010 Ducati motorcycle. He was
decked out in dark blue jeans, a white T and a blue jacket that matched his
wheels. And his voice... it was a smooth tenor tone. If I had to compare it to
anyone, I'd say Usher. That first night, we set ground rules as you should
before any threesome. I wasn't going to be touching him and he wasn't going to
be touching me. He was on one side and I was wayyyyy on the other. We also designated holes. He wasn't
allowed in my wife's pussy. He could fuck her in the ass
and he could fuck her in the mouth... but not in her pussy. This was my wife's
idea... because in the event that a condom broke, she didn't want to end up
pregnant with another man's child; smart idea. And the
threesome went off without a hitch.
My wife enjoyed it a lot more than she
thought she would. She liked it so much that she wanted to do it again the next
weekend... and the next weekend, and the next weekend and the next. We damn
near had his ass on retainer. I was spending $300 a week on bringing in a nigga
to help me fuck my wife. I'd started to regret it. I was often the odd man out.
I was always "Daddy" in the bedroom... but now there were two
"Daddies." Many of those early Saturday Night's with Steven, I
watched him fuck my wife while feeling like dead weight. One time he showed up,
and I had every intention of sleeping on the couch and just letting the two of
them go at it alone. And I think he sensed it that day.
We had a nice man to man talk out on the
front porch while my wife was upstairs overheating. He told me how he liked us
as a couple, and how he wasn't trying to step on my shoes. He said that this
was a job for him and he had 2 customers, not just 1.
He wanted to be sure that both of us came out of this satisfied, and he was
willing to go the extra mile to ensure that. Basically, he thought that I'd set
too many rules in the beginning when I said we couldn't touch. So we mended the rule that night, allowing this to be a
threesome and not just him and me running a train on my wife.
Omitting the 'no touching' rule was the
best thing that happened for us, meaning me and my wife. We just became 3
freaks in the night. Now, we were actually able to
fuck her at the same time, me in her pussy with him in her ass. He's licked her
cunt while I was fucking her, so I actually felt his
tongue touching my dick. He'd tea-bagged me while I was fucking my wife
doggystyle. Yeah... allowing him to touch me was best because me and my wife
could both enjoy Steven. We were both able to get off without the constant
thought of "Was that gay?" No, it wasn't gay. It was our bedroom; our
own private bedroom, where we set the rules.
But now... things were different. My wife
was out of the country for the week. She had to go to Brazil for a press party.
She'd told me to call Steven to cancel. And every time I thought to do it, I
wasn't near my phone. Procrastination had gotten the best of me. And it didn't
hit me that I'd completely forgotten until I heard his motorcycle revving out
front.
Shit! I thought. I jumped up from the
sofa, the television showing an old Fresh Prince of Bel Air rerun. I opened the
front door and sprung out.
Steven had just turned off his motorcycle
and was pulling his helmet off. He had on a leather biker jacket instead of the
one he normally wore. This one looked brand new.
"Hey Jace," he said, smiling
with all pearly white teeth.
"Yo, Stevie. I'm sorry man," I
started.
"What's up?"
"Diana's out of town. I been meaning
to call and shit, but it kept slipping my mind."
"Oh," he said, his voice seeming
saddened by the news. "Where is she?"
"Rio De Janeiro."
"Damn. I wish you would've called me,
man. I passed up something to come all the way out here."
"I know man, I fucked up," I
apologized again. "Yo, come in. Lemme write you a check to cover it."
He sucked his teeth, upset about it all.
"Come on, man. It was my fault. I'm
sorry about it. I'll give you the normal rate."
Steven got off of
his bike and followed me into the house. The sun was just beginning to set
outside on the hot summer day. Steven's face looked a
bit darker and sweatier on account of it.
"Diana told me to call yo ass but like an idiot, I forgot. I hope you didn't turn
down something big," I said, while writing out a check to him for $300.
"It wasn't too big. It's
just..." he paused for a moment, exhaling as he looked out the window.
I noticed the interval in his words. After
I tore the check from my checkbook, I handed it to him.
"It's just what?" I asked.
"My roommate," he said, taking the
check and placing it in his biker jacket.
"What about him?"
"He's... used to me being out
Saturday Nights. That's when he has date night with his girls."
"I see," I said, nodding
politely.
"I don't want to be cramping his
style."
"Ohhhhhhh,
I got you. Well, you can crash here for the night. I was thinking about
ordering a pizza anyway. You can help me eat it."
"You sure?" he asked cautiously.
"You know I don't ever want to be stepping on toes and shit."
"Nah, it's no problem
man. Shit, you were going to stay here anyway. You can stay in the guest
room."
Steven nodded his head like the young thug
he was. "Iight," he said.
"Cool," I said, walking back to
the sofa and plopping down in front of the television. "There's nothing
really on TV right now. The movie channels ain't showing anything I know
about."
"I'm cool, man. Whatever you want to
watch is fine with me," he said, sitting nearby. He sat upright, while I
was a bit more lounge-y on the sofa. He sat with his elbows firmly planted on
top of his knee caps; his right hand forming a fist
while his left hand covered it. He had diamond rings on a couple of his
fingers. He seemed tense, almost jittery. But I ignored it and kept watching
the television.
On the TV, Carlton started dancing to that
Tom Jones track he loved to listen to. I chuckled at it, but Steven remained
stiff. A minute or so later, he finally spoke.
"Jace?" he said.
"Sup?"
"You... uh... you sure you 'forgot'
to call me and cancel?"
I was taken aback by the question for a
second. I didn't like the tone of his shit. It sounded like he was trying to
insinuate something about me. "Yeah, I forgot man. I've been thinking that
it was Friday all day, so I wasn't even thinking about you showing up." I
think he sensed how my attitude shot left, even though I was trying to be cool
about it.
"Alright, alright man... my
bad," he said.
I knew it was tense and weird. Typically,
when the two of us were together, we were with my wife. Out of the two of us,
she was always the icebreaker. She could make people loosen up. Without her in
the middle of Steven and me, we didn't know how to act. But in the end, it
wasn't like I was the one who asked his ass to stay. I've always just been
cordial to this fool.
"Well..." Steven opened up again. "You sure you don't want a massage or
something?"
I turned my head to him.
"I'm just asking because it is part
of the protocol. We're supposed to make sure we fulfill
all services possible."
"You massage?" I asked, I
must've turned up my eyebrow, subliminally doubting his skill.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I am a masseuse.
It's part of the job."
"Really? You're licensed?"
"Yes, really," he smiled again.
"What all do you do?"
"Well, I escort. I'm a masseuse, I'm
a model, I'm a stripper-"
"Wait-" I cut him off. "You
strip?"
"Yeah," he blushed, embarrassed.
"Only private parties and shit, though."
"Show me," I told him.
He laughed nervously again. "You
serious?"
"Oh shit, I forgot to even ask. Do
you even strip for guys?"
"I... did once," he said, not
sounding too proud of that moment.
"I'm curious now. I wanna see this shit," I said.
He blushed again. "I-I-I don't even
have my costume."
"As far as I can tell, you in costume
right now with that leather jacket and the baggy jeans on."
He smiled all over again. I swear, I've
never seen a stripper so nervous in my life. He agreed though.
"Alright- alright- alright. You got
an iPod dock?" he asked.
"Nah... but you can hook the computer
speakers into the headphones jack, right?"
"Yeah, I can do it that way." He
got up and walked over to the desktop computer to hook up his iPod.
Thinking that Steven might need space, I
dragged the coffee table to the edge of the living room and tilted it on its side so it would lie up against the wall. When I
turned around, I could see Steven starting to undress. He must've unbuckled his
pants while he was setting up his music, because his jeans dropped to the
floor. Steven has that miracle bubble on his ass. It was defined with a solid
amount of muscle, but a nice layer of fat that covered it and made it jiggle
remarkably (I'd noticed that in our threesomes).
He had on these loose Brazilian trunks;
loose because the tight ones probably couldn't contain all that ass. His ass
crack was showing and when he turned around, his underwear was riding
considerably low. After he pulled his t-shirt off, I could see that the
waistline was underneath his little v cut and showing the top of his pubes.
"We gotta
give it a sec to go past the intro," he said. "But sit down, sit
down."
I did as he told me, and
awaited the show. I'd heard things about how the male strippers get it in. A
couple of my boys told me about shit they've seen on the internet about how the
men be damn near fucking. The thought crossed my mind... but this motherfucka wasn't crazy. He wasn't gonna be trying to flip
me over his head and mimic himself fucking me in the ass.
His intro started, a slow techno
instrumental with a DJ shouting over the track. "It's time! Pull out yo motherfuckin' wallet and show
some love..."
Suddenly, Steven started yelling, fully
assimilated into his thugged-out stripper role. He
hopped back and forth while gesturing his hands like a rapper. "It's
Bam-Bam, nigga! Now watch me make yo motherfuckin' bed rock!"
The end of his chant was immediately
followed by an explosion sound in his intro. He dove to the center of the
carpet.
Thank God I moved that coffee table, I
thought.
The intro began to make these metallic
sounds like a transformer. And Steven (or Bam-Bam, whoever he was) began to
flip upside down. In true stripper fashion, the song Dance (A$$) by Big Sean
began to blare and this nigga was pussy popping on a handstand. I wanted to
laugh, but as soon as my eyes caught the jiggle of his ass cheeks, I was just
mesmerized. His ass was popping so fast, that if I were any further away, I'd
swear he wasn't moving at all.
He eventually slowed down, doing a simple
booty pop to the beat where his whole ass jiggled magnificently. The nigga
wasn't 30 seconds in and I was convinced he was the
sexiest stripper I'd ever seen. He went one-handed, and spread his legs, damn
near completing a split. His ass still popped slowly to the beat, I guess to
make sure I was kept in the trance that it put me in. He slowly lowered his
legs back to the floor and faced me. His eyes fell on me, but all that shyness
he had was gone. He'd made a complete 180 and surged into his alter ego,
"Bam-Bam."
He skated, snaking his body across my
carpet, surely getting rug burns on his knees. If he did, I couldn't tell. He'd
slid across the floor, turning around until his back was facing me. Then, he
pulled his briefs just below the dip of his ass.
"Stop! Now make that motherfucker
hammer time like," the iPod blared, leading into the hook of the song.
The nigga began to make it clap to the
beat... his body perfectly curving at all the right places. There was a dent in
his back, which made the arch of his ass look even bigger. And when he put his
face to the floor, and made his ass jump one cheek at a time, I could've
nutted. God, what did I get myself into. Shit, I wanted to dive down to the
floor just like he did, the only difference being that I'd bury my face into
his gigantic ass.
Before Nicki Minaj's verse in the song
could come on, there was another explosion. Steven jumped to his feet from his
previous position, his ass still overflowing out of his underwear. An electric
guitar sounded, playing its strings almost as well as Steven was playing me. He
grabbed the waistband of his underwear and pulled them all the way down. He
stepped out of each of the leg holes and turned around, his hand covering his
semi-hard 9 inch dick. He
was eyeing me down again, a deep and cold stare.
Oh shit, I thought. What the fuck is he
about to do now?
It was ok to watch it from a distance, but
now that he was walking to me, shit got a little funny.
"There's a meeting in my
bedroom," the late 90's classic began to play. He walked closer to me with
arrogance in his step, seductiveness in his posture and a mission in his eyes.
He kicked my ankle gently, telling me to close my legs. I did, and lord, why
did I do that? Before I knew it, this nigga was straddling me, face to face. I
kicked my head back as far as possible, pasting myself to the sofa and trying
to create as much distance as I could. He didn't let that faze him. He kept
right on doing his thing.
His dick was now at full length, sitting
on top of my t-shirt.
"Whoa," I said, finding that his
nervous laughter had transferred to me.
Steven grabbed a fist full of my t-shirt, and slid his dick underneath it. His dick flesh was
lying right up against my abdomen. Then, he placed both hands on my t-shirt
like he was clutching the reigns of a horse and began to ride. His body made
the natural stripper wave that led with his chest, driveled to his abdomen and
finalized at his hips. And he was biting his lip, with his eyes closed.
Oh my God, I thought, shocked. And I was
pissed that my dick wasn't responding the same way my mind was. My shit was
throbbing, and I knew he could feel it. Shit, he was sitting right on top of
it, and it flexed every time his ass completed the body roll and landed back on
it. I admit it, I fucked up. There was slime leaking onto my stomach. This
nigga was pre-cumming, and I'm sure he was no longer
stripping. With his eyes closed while he's hitting that long stroke?
Nah, this nigga was humping.
Steven hissed and followed it up with a
deep moan.
"You wanna
grab my ass nigga?" he said.
No lie, I did.
"I be seeing you looking at my ass
nigga, grab that shit. Put them rough hands all up on this soft booty,
nigga."
I thought before I made that move. My hand
barely lifted from the sofa and found itself making contact
with Steven's huge, hairless thigh. My finger followed the trail, merely
grazing his left ass cheek and he melted into my chest. All space between us
was gone. His head was turned to his right and lodged up against my left
shoulder. His hands rested at both sides of my waist. He didn't move anymore.
He only allowed me to rub all over his ass, exploring his soft mountains.
One of our hearts was racing, while the
other was a steady tempo. I could feel both of them on
my chest. I wished the one beating quicker was his. I took a deep breath, an exhale that stretched into the room. It was followed by
another sweetly seductive moan from Steven. I smacked his ass,
he hissed once again.
"Ssss...
oh, daddy..."
Fuuuuuckkkk.... "Yo, you can't be doing this to
me right now," I said.
"I'm not doing anything," he
said, pulling his head off my shoulder. "I'm just following your
lead." He bit his lip one last time, his beady eyes looking at me
alluringly.
My hand left his ass cheek so quickly, and
I placed my thumb right at the center of the minor cleft in his chin, while the
rest of my hand hooked under his jaw. I pulled him in and kissed him. We kissed
nonstop. My hand found its way back to his fat bubble ass and his arms locked
around my neck. "Meeting in my bedroom" went off, and the kiss never
broke. He moaned into my mouth; I groaned back into his. When he stroked the
back of my head with his thumb, I stroked his asshole with mine.
His tongue flicked my top row teeth as I
was still inhaling the air that he breathed. I broke the kiss from him. He
looked confused.
"Aiight,"
I said, managing to peel my hands off his ass and regain some control over my
body. "As good as this is, we need to discuss something real
quick."
"Iight,"
he said.
"This might sound like...uh... a dumb
ass question, but are you bi?"
"I'm an employee," he answered
sharply.
"Ok... does that mean that you
are?"
"I'm an employee," he gave the
same answer.
"So... that means that you are
whatever I want you to be?"
"For the night..."
This was risky. Now I had other questions,
like "how many times do niggas pay to fuck you up the ass?" Not only
did I want to ask that for my sake, but for my wife's. This nigga been fuckin'
her up the ass for years. Suddenly another dimension to his lifestyle was open.
I didn't want to go there with it, and kill the mood entirely, so I kept it
vague.
"You always take care of yourself,
right?" I asked.
He knew exactly what I meant, and exactly
what I was asking. He looked me in the eye like he wanted me to see the truth
before he answered. "Always."
"Ok," and that was what I needed
to hear. "Let's go upstairs."
He backed off of
me and stood up. His dick had a thick lather of pre-cum at its head, and in
backing up the sticky goo left a trail on my jeans and a pool underneath my
shirt. As he turned, I caught the side view of his ass again.
"Hold it," I said.
"Yeah?"
I scooted over, leaning my face forward so
I could bite it. A gentle bite, but a good enough bite that I could feel it's toughness in my teeth.
"Sssss...
ah, you like that?" he asked.
"Fuck yeah." I got up behind
him. I unfastened my pants so they dropped just as
quickly to the floor as his did earlier.
While he walked over to his jeans to pull
a condom and his lubricant out, I pulled off my t-shirt and my underwear.
Before we hit the stairs, we were 2 butt naked ass fools. He walked up the
steps first because I wanted to see the jiggle in that ass one last time before
I started banging it. He hit the top step and began to turn right until I
stopped him.
"No," I said. I pointed left, to the guest room. "This way."
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