The Meet-Up
Andrew whom we now knew preferred Andy texted both my nephew Brandon and me two nights after we first “met his surfer graduate student trick. I’d met him by summoning my slut of a nephew upstairs for a sit-down, Bran sassily telling me he was hosting a Grindr hook-up, me not believing and sassing back to bring him too, and thus the three of us ended that evening in an exhausted heap in my borrowed condo’s guest bedroom bed.
“Hey studs boring nite here at the uni” then another “Meetup I know of guys tonight” and another “Interested?” Is it just me or do serial texts bother others as much as they chafe my last nerve? Maybe just us boomers?
Brandon and I hadn’t fucked again since the plane ride out and that first evening at the condo with Andy when I’d intended to tell Bran that our sky-high fuck-fest was the end of it. We had been putting in the hours together at work and fortunately had no problems separating the two.
The closing of the sixteen dealerships purchased by Brandon’s grandparents had gone as planned and we’d been to nine of them already to meet with the management and staff. I’ll say this; Bran may be a big ol’ slut but he’s serious about his work and is all business during the work-time. He’s also exceptionally bright which I already knew; I’d just not seen him in action that way. And he had an easy way with everyone; all of his new employees both loved him and respected him.
He was a quick learner and a great mentee; he was also a delight to spend time with which I already know since I’d known him from birth. I was glad to be able to give his grandparents stellar reports without struggling to choose my words and topics! After all I couldn’t tell them he had a world-class ass and a mouth to match if that had turned-out to be his only attribute. I did have to stay away from the subject of his youthful capacity and propensity to smoke pot and drink in the evenings; fortunately his own conversations with his grandparents were in the morning as they’re on the East Coast.
I struggled though with what to reply to Andy’s texts; what’s a meetup mean in college-boy speak?
Bran replied as I fretted. “What kind of meetup? Orgy? Bate?”
Andy’s reply was instantaneous. “Bate” then “Suck” “Frot” “Bukake” “Lotsa hot guys” “Uu 2 totally fit” “Anon”
MAKE IT STOP!
“U in?”
Ugh.
Bran again. “I’m down. Uncle?”
Surprisingly I knew what all the terms meant and abbreviations stood for despite the distraction of the multiple texts for a single thought, misspelling, and lack of grammar.
Fuck why not? Days to go until Kent gets here. “WTF not?” Take an abbreviation of my own! To Brandon separately I texted, “Mind driving? You haven’t taken anything or had anything to drink have you? And mind making the arrangements with Andy? I’m jumping in the shower; I didn’t before I left the gym.”
“Rad” was Andy’s reply which came in while I was thumbing the message to Bran.
My questions about my nephew being sober were warranted; he’d been high when he brought the surfer up to my unit that first night which opened my eyes; that hadn’t been the only night. I also knew he drank beer like water and I suspected anything else was as welcome passing his lips as he’d mentioned the stocked bar in his borrowed condo. Nothing during work or any problem there; but after was a different story.
“No no no” was Bran’s reply to me. While I had to think to make sure it was really a yes to making the arrangements his text to our group came through. “Where? When? Pick u up?”
I laid my phone down and went to shower. I enjoyed the loose swing of my dick and balls still warm after an intense workout. I’d lost my gym clothes the minute I’d got inside the unit; the large laundry room was just inside the door and I’d hung my jock-strap there to air-dry and thrown my sweaty shirt, socks, towel and shorts into the washer; my gym bag with my day’s clothes I’d just dropped.
I’d been drinking water and enjoying the night-time view, the sound of the waves, and the breeze off the ocean when the text had come. Then I had a thought and went back to grab my phone. Ignoring the many bubbles of texts back and forth I typed to the group, “Have a sweat-soaked jock-strap I just peeled off after an intense workout. Maybe I should wear it?”
Bran’s dots turned to a message first. “Fuck that. I’ll come & lick u clean head 2 toe, in between, inside out!”
I laughed knowing he was dead serious.
Andy’s texts were uncharacteristically detailed. “Bag it seal it bring it” “When there u’ll get naked” “U put it on then” “Ull be popular!”
My brain hurt reading his texts. My “kids” his age didn’t short-cut the messages like that.
I sent back a thumbs-up and headed toward the bedroom again. Then I abruptly stopped and headed back to retrieve the very wet and very scented jock-strap from the laundry. I hadn’t washed it since I got there; friends of Kent’s and mine boasted they hadn’t laundered a jock-strap in the thirteen years they’d been together. I was trying it out. I went to the kitchen and bagged it in one of the gallon ziplock bags I’d stocked-up on.
When I met Brandon in the garage he’d pulled his loaned car up by the door. I got in and immediately saw he was in a flatteringly tight t-shirt and jeans that looked like they’d been shredded by a razor. And he was commando; I could easily see that from where his fat dick bulged through the open rips. “Dressed-up for the evening out I see?” I teased him.
“These never let me down,” he joked as we sped up the ramp and out of the garage too fast. “Well a lot of time I get bottoms who see my rod and can’t stop themselves when what I want is to be railed. You look hot yourself uncle Al.” I had on well-fitting walking shorts and a polo; I thought I looked very middle-aged casual
Was I really having this conversation with my nephew? Uh yeah; the nephew I’d railed recently and repeatedly. Bad uncle Al! I hmmmmmed to his answer as we made our way north to pick-up Andy.
The “jack-off group” was in a defunct restaurant in Hillcrest. We had to pay to enter. Brandon gave the very fey man in his late sixties or early seventies who was manning the entry two hundred dollar bills and told him the rest was for the club’s treasury; I didn’t correct him that all of it was going to the club’s treasury. I also didn’t comment on his extravagance; twenty-five was the entry fee for non-members. Bran had made quite a lot of money and despite his former partying ways had invested well; being the family’s long-time finance guy he’d confided much to me.
We also had to choose a silicone wrist-band in one of three colors; touching me is allowed; ask before you touch me; don’t touch me. We all chose the first.
And last we had to give our email, receive a rules form, and electronically sign it. They did so without reading; I held-up our little group as well as three good looking guys who’d entered after us. Notably there were two rules that caught my eye amid the many: number 2 was “no lips below the hips,” number 3 was “you affirm that you have been fully tested for sexually transmitted infections within the prior sixty days and you also affirm that you have tested negative for any STI and to the best of your knowledge have not since been exposed to any STI,” and number 4 was “no anal penetration.” I was about to comment when I read the last rule: “rules 2 and 4 are suspended for the final hour. “What time did tonight’s session begin and when does it end?” I asked the fey senior citizen gate-keeper.
He looked at me with a grin. “If you’re asking how long until the rules go out the window then it’s … “ he turned his wrist and displayed what was obviously a vintage Hamilton wrist-watch and pushed his half-glasses down the bridge of his nose and looked over them. “Precisely twenty-two minutes. And here’s a pro tip for you three studs: the crowd thins-out a lot by that time so get undressed, get in there, and let whatever hotties you three studs are interested in know so they know what’s in it for them if they stay.”
“Thanks for the tip daddy!” Brandon said with his most suggestive inflection while I was completing the electronic signature.
The elder gentleman shot back, “Son any time you want a real live granddaddy to show you what you’re missing you just say the word!” We headed into the changing room teasing Brandon about having a crash-cart ready when he took the old man up on his offer.
One of the rules was that men could wear “an under-garment such as briefs or a jock-strap and foot-wear” but nothing more “for the comfort of all the participants and to maintain the spirit” of the event. Andy stripped down and went barefoot. Brandon stripped down but wore black flip-flops which I noticed were a perfect match for the dark thick curly hair on his legs and the tops of his wide feet. I donned my rank jock-strap; still soaked with my sweat of that evening’s workout and of each workout since we’d arrived in San Diego as well as several long early-morning runs and slid my feet into my shower sandals.
Kent and I often enjoy our sweaty gear but we rarely leave it unwashed to “season.” The evening Id gotten to San Diego I’d talked to our closest friends who live in Hawaii. I was troubled about my nephew-sex and needed someone to talk with. Our bestie Billy is the one who told me that Kent would think it was hot as fuck and he was right. But he also told me that when something bothers him he works-up a sweat until he’s completely spent and then his mind stops spinning. They’ve been together for longer than Kent and I have; over thirteen years. And we know about them that they also have a pact that they haven’t washed a jock-strap since they met randomly on a day when they were both strapped-up. Somehow taking Billy’s advice to help myself come to peace with my primal nearly incestuous behavior before my husband arrived merged with not laundering my jock-strap.
Bran and Andy both awarded me seriously reverent “hot af” pronouncements as to both the visual aesthetic and my strong aroma; I hoped the fellow participants would be as welcoming. As we walked from the changing room which had been the restaurant’s small staff locker room I screwed up my courage for both the stained smelly jock-strap and for the reaction to my racing stripe. Neither turned into an issue.
As you might imagine turning the corner and entering an abandoned banquet room full of naked men is no new experience; any gym or sauna-goer has the same upon entry to any locker room. This was different in two ways. First was that about a third of the men present clearly weren’t regular gym fanatics; forgive my aesthetic criticism of their physiques but it was more surprise for their unhealthiness in this locale with its climate and many young military and college men to attract or compete with. Second was that everyone was at least stroking themselves or stroking a buddy; many were making-out and groping each other. Yippee!
We entered the room and most checked us out like a new shipment of steak had been bought into a dining hall full of starved men. Two gym-built men welcomed us and bumped greasy fists which had only just been on greasier hard-ons. Neither was particularly hung, both openly checked our wrists and then they greeted us with greasy sliding strokes on our dicks. Bran and Andy had strutted in confident and hard as nails; like two young studs would. My apprehension had kept me from plumping-up despite my extremely horny state after my earlier workout; but now among the sea of many studs and some average men where most all were hard and indulging their urges my blood was directed to my no-longer-neglected swinging dick after he’d quickly pulled my jock-strap pouch aside. So much for the allure of the sweat!
We attracted a small crowd and soon had our hands full, were being felt-up, complimented, first names exchanged, and were in the thick of it. Shortly a startling chorus of the many deep voices began a count-down from ten which was ultimately joined by most. After “Let the fun continue!” replaced zero a somewhat high-pitched nasally middle-aged man announced, “Rules preventing oral below the waist and penetration are now eliminated! Remember to respect each other’s boundaries.”
At that point I had been giving a hand to two hard-bodied uncut marines (by their tattoos) whose hands were giving my dick, balls, nipples, crack, and outside of my hole very attentive strokes. In addition the taller hispanic-looking one with the fat stubby dick had been kissing my neck and ear and said, “Please sir may I ride your big fuck-stick?” As a guest among such welcoming hosts how could I refuse?
The other marine had been pumping my hole with a thick finger and sucking my nipples and didn’t seem bothered by his buddy’s maneuvering and bending over in front of me. I half expected him to fuck me or ask if he could but as the taller one grabbed some lube from the closest of many Albolene cans and quickly slicked a beautiful dark hole that looked plenty tight and then pushed himself back onto me with a loud “OOOOOHRAH!” The other sighed and said, “Fuck bro you almost squeezed the blood out of my middle finger when he took you!”
There was a cacophony of grunts and moans around the room and many were enjoying the lifting of rules two and four. Bran and another studly younger man were spit-roasting a very muscular-looking deeply tanned man who had no tan lines except had a very white butt-crack. The marine who’d mounted my dick was slowly fucking himself on the length of me with his hands forward on the floor and his beautifully muscled back and glutes all pleasantly exhibited to advantage. The other marine began upping his digital assault on my insides but did not appear to be very adept at finding my prostate; I settled for the lower-grade stimulation of his rough finger in my channel and was glad I’d cleaned myself thoroughly in the shower.
A tight-bodied fire plug of man more my age moved toward us with a stubby cut hard-on seeming to point his way and greeted me. “Got yourself two fine boys there. Mind if I use the open hole?” He gave the marine who’d been nibbling and sucking my nipples a slap on his bubble butt which caused him to hiss into my chest.
Something about the presumption that I’d have the say over whether he fucked the young stud amid this environment of overly-polite requests and explicit consent rubbed me the wrong way. “As the man said,” I replied a bit coldly, “respect boundaries. You’re asking the wrong man.”
His eyebrows raised and my nipple nibbler lifted his head from my chest, looked the stranger in the eye and said, “No thank you; I have what I want right here and I’m next,” looking down at where the other marine’s butt was slapping against my groin.”
The other man’s face darkened and he said nothing as he turned and stalked away somewhat purposefully. My guy kissed my neck and said with warm moist breath on my wet skin, “Bro if I hadn’t already wanted you to fuck me I’d be all over you just for that. That guy is bad energy!”
“Will your buddy here share?” I asked with a downward look.
“I don’t know; I never met him before.” So much for my deductive powers! Bending over and getting his head down low he asked, “Dude! How ‘bout giving me some time on that pole you’re dancing on?”
The marine I’d been fucking eased himself off me and straightened. “Let me suck your cock while this stud works your hole?” he asked stroking him along with my hand.
“Deal!” the other said. “Let’s go over there,” he suggested and pointed to an area where there was a beat-up leather couch that wasn’t being used.
We made our way across the room of entangled bodies and moans and grunts and filthy words. In transit I found Andy aggressively railing a moaning black gym-rat who extolled the virtues of our surfer’s long dick and fat knob with every thrust. I slapped Andy on his hard ass as I passed and immediately wondered what had got me so bold. Andy’s head whipped around and then his face brightened. “DADDY!” he growled and kept fucking. Then he looked at the two marines one of whom had my hard-on in his hand and the other had his dick in my hand as we were passing; Andy gave me two thumbs-up. “Ride the wave uncle Al!” he said with a grin and turned his attention back to his willing hole.
“That’s your nephew? That’s hot as fuck!” the marine I’d been fucking a moment ago growled. I just smiled and didn’t correct him.
At the sofa the marine I’d been fucking gladly let the other take his place. That other one flopped back and threw his legs in the air. “Come on I can take it!” he said and slapped my raging hard-on with his eyes burning into mine. I went in hot and hard; it wasn’t his first rodeo and he’d used some of the Albolene on his hole; still he grunted and grimaced and panted as I forced myself through his lower defenses and started railing him. “OOOOOHRAH!” he bellowed at the other marine.
The first marine I’d fucked clambered over the one I was in and into a sixty-nine on top of him. They each had a mouth full of dick with the first’s still-gaping hole in the air. Before a few minutes had gone by Andy appeared beside me and got his cum-dripping dick-knob into the first marine’s face. “Mind if I stuff this in your hole dude?” he asked. The marine’s mouth was full and my slamming thrusts were right there but he managed to grin and nod without breaking his dick-sucking.
Andy went to the back of the sofa and then looked around. He darted off and came back dragging a side chair, got on it, and then was high up enough to point his still-hard knob down and guide it into the open hole. I heard the marine groan as I saw the surfer’s slender hard-on disappear and then start to pump his hole. “You open-up this man-cunt uncle Al?” he asked me. When I nodded he grinned and said, “Fuckin’ stud! Good thing this leather-neck’s hole has some use left after that!”
The marine we were spit-roasting was gyrating around which apparently was the result of the other one being fucked and grunting and groaning around his dick. His channel was spasming which had my own balls churning and when I felt him clenching hard and thrusting upward the other one was gulping and then coughing; a huge glob of cum and spit emerged at the crotch of the marine I was fucking as he gagged and struggled to swallow what appeared to be a heavy load. Then I realized that Andy had fucked him to his own orgasm first and he’d blasted down my hole’s throat which was what set mine off. “Come on uncle Al,” Andy said with a grin. “Plant your babies in him and fill his hole. Get him pregnant!”
Suddenly out of nowhere my other faux-nephew’s deep voice resonated in my ear out of hot breath on my neck and a finger playing with my hole. “Do it uncle Al like you do me; fill his wrecked bussy!” And then as if Kent had coached him he bit my neck behind my ear in my trigger spot and then sucked gently.
My fuse ignited and it was only a moment before my balls burst forth and were shooting gob after gob of my baby batter into the young buff marine as the other one’s head lolled free as Andy plowed him roughly.
“Fuck yeah! Such a stud!” Brandon growled into my ear. Andy’s eyes were locked onto mine as I pumped myself into the marine with gasps and grunts as Bran’s thick fingertip tickled my prostate.
Then Andy’s face screwed into determination and he began some jabbing thrusts. “Oh fuck man oh fuck here it comes,” he warned. And before I was recovered enough to pull out of the marine under the one he was fucking he was unloading. His slender tall torso was all flexes and his face was contorted in the pleasure of his release. “Fuckin’ take it!” he said sort of trailing off.
The marine getting filled licked a swipe up my sweaty abs and said, “Let me taste you,” as I began to pull back. His tongue moved to my softening shaft as I withdrew and greedily sucked me in and swirled his tongue all over my sensitive head when it was out.
I may have squeaked just a little from the over-stimulation as Bran turned my head around and kissed me passionately. It was sensory over-load and it wasn’t anything I made an effort to stop.
Andy pulled out quickly. “Fuck man that’s some good hole,” he said and slapped the marine he’d fucked on his freshly-loaded ass.
“That’s some good cock!” the fuckee threw back and got himself off of the marine I’d fucked. “Oh man dude you’re fuckin’ hot too!”
Andy laughed. “What’d you think man?”
The marine looked around the thinning crowd before he answered then he clamped a muscled arm around Andy’s shoulder. “Just adds to the vibe that’s all.”
“Right on stud,” Andy said and gently slapped the marine’s tight eight-pack.
The marine I’d been fucking got himself off the sofa with a long fart and my cum gushing from his hole onto the ruined leather. “Oops,” he said self-consciously as he swiped at it with his hand and then licked it. “Damn that’s good stuff!”
I laughed. “That bate lube can’t taste very good.”
“No taste really. Here check it out,” he said and got on the sofa again with his head over the back and his gooey hole pointing my way.
His ring was puffy and slack; it clearly showed he’d been fucked good. And my cum was oozing down his sac.
“If you’re not I am uncle Al,” Bran said excitedly and leaned in and slurped and sucked the marine cunt until he was moaning loud again.
“Share!” the surfer called out and pushed Bran away and took his licks.
The other marine watched and just moaned, “Fuuuuuuuck.”
Andy came up for air and pulled Brandon into a full-on face-suck. The marine he’d just eaten got himself up and said to me, “These two are really your nephews? Fuck man such damn good stuff for my spank bank!”
Again I didn’t correct him. I was beginning to feel awkward; how did one politely disengage after such an orgy as the crowd was leaving? Hand-shakes?
“And that big fuckin’ daddy-cock you’re working with has a hot wet hole here ANY time,” he said and walked away.
The other marine said, “Thank you SIRS!” and took his leave just as abruptly.
Bran and Andy had finished their face-sucking. Andy said to us both: “I’m gonna call an Uber and get dressed. I’ll clean-up when I get back. Thanks!” Brandon and I protested but he said he was fine and headed off.
And then Brandon and I were left with about ten other guys mostly finished but some still at it. Bran grinned at me.
“What?” I asked him. He moved his hips and I saw he was rock-hard. “You didn’t get off?” I asked him.
“Only twice,” he said with a shit-eating grin but also a challenging look at me.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was two thousand-plus miles from my husband, I’d fucked a stranger at an orgy, my nephew was tempting me to do more with him after a few days ago fucking our way across country …
“Go ahead and laugh uncle Al. I can’t help that you light me up you’re such a fuckin’ stud.”
“You drive back,” I told him. “I’ll nap.”
“And rest-up to do me when we get back?” he asked as we walked to the changing room with his fat hard-on bobbing in front of him and shining from lube and cum.
“Brandon?!” I said cautioning him.
It was his turn to laugh. “I know I know. I’m saving my full pitch press for when Kent gets here anyway.”
Damn if that didn’t send a tantalizing jolt through my dick!
