New Friends and a French Reckoning
Yeah, so Marco came for dinner one Saturday in February. Chris made some nice paella – something he was trying to master – and I opened wine. Seems fair. I realized I was a bit nervous even though the three of us had traded cum already. Maybe it was Marco's alpha guy energy that freaked me a little.
But what a cool, gracious dude he was. He brought wine and some chocolate and he seemed really comfortable with us. We sat on the terrace and got to know him. It turned out he was an aspiring actor who was residential woodwork to make ends meet. I could totally see him on the stage or even in a film. Rugged, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes – fucking intoxicating combination. I remembered all the blondish hair around his cock.
I shifted in my chair so as not to show off my hard-on too much, and said, “You have a boyfriend?”
He laughed and reached for my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “That's a silly question, Michael. Would I be here if I did? But maybe I would have brought him along if I had one.”
That sounded interesting. Since making our favourite threesome a foursome – now with Ravi – I was getting into the idea of what four people can get up to. But that was not what was on offer here.
For some reason, we didn't just jump into bed. It's like the three of us were getting off on the possibility of it and delaying it, which made it even more exciting.
But nevertheless, the night was getting cool, so we went inside to the big white living room and the big sofa. I sat down and Marco sat beside me. We kept talking and Chris poured wine, but Marco, sitting really close to me, slowly massaged my shoulders and the back of my neck. I was almost purring.
For his part, Chris sat beside us and just watched, sipping his wine and grinning. I wondered what he had in mind, because he always has something. But Marco helped clear things up when he eventually leaned over to Chris and kissed him really softly a few times and said, “I want to fuck your boy. I fucked you last time, but I think I want him tonight. Is that something I can do?”
Such a gentleman. Chris kissed him back and said, “Of course, Marco. And I think tonight I just want to watch.”
Now he was talking. We had done this before with Goran and Chris had sat across the room – slowly stroking his dick – and watched Goran fuck me. So I was even more excited by this proposal.
I got up and took Marco by the hand and led him down the hall to our bedroom. Chris came in behind us and we all started to take our clothes off in a sensual, formal way as if we were preparing for some kind of ritual. When I slid my underwear off, my cock was all throbbing and eager. Once Marco's pants were off he stood in front of me with that really thick tool which was pointing right at me. I felt my ass quiver in anticipation. His body was all furred with light brown hair and his pecs were meaty and his nipples big. I hadn't been with such a rugged guy and I realized it felt a little scary.
But I got on my knees and my mouth gave his dick some attention. I stroked and licked and tried to take it as much as my mouth would allow, stretching me. His precum was a little sweeter than I was used to and I sucked on the end of his cock, trying to get more.
I went for his balls which were big and hanging and hairy. I couldn't get them both in my mouth, but I tried. Fuck did I try. He balls had a light sweaty taste and I had a mouthful of his pubes. He was jacking his cock slowly as I sucked his balls. He moaned a little, but then said, running his hand through my hair, “You know how much I want to fuck you, Mike?”
I didn't really need to answer, but I looked up at him and said, “How much, Marco?”
He picked me up as if I was a kid and threw me on the bed. “This much.”
Chris got up and tossed a little bottle to him and said, “Mike always likes it slippery.”
Marco chuckled and made himself all shiny with lube and then he gently did the same to my ass, twisting his fingers in me. I couldn't take my eyes of his cock which was pulsing with his heartbeat. It was so broad and veiny, the uncut head shiny with lube and precum. He pushed me backwards and got between my legs and with a bunch of short fucks, pushed the head of cock against my hole, never pushing in, but making me shiver.
I looked over at Chris who was starting at me with a big smile, stroking his cock a bit faster and I noticed he had a finger or two in his ass. Marco leaned down and engulfed my mouth with his. Even his tongue was meaty. But at the same time he pushed his dick into me, and I had to take some breaths. It hurt, but then it didn't, then hurt again. He pushed some more and kissed my neck, then more and sucked on my ear. I felt myself stretching beyond where I thought I could and, as always, I remember Jack fucking me and if I could do that, then I could do this. But Jack wasn't this thick.
But after a minute, Marco had carefully filled my ass with that throbbing cock. He sat up and looked at me and said, “You are such a beautiful man.” He turned to Chris and said, “You are both such beautiful men.”
Such simple words but they made me want to cry and cum at the same time. With that, however, he started to go, to fill me, to stretch me. He fucked pretty fast and took hold of my nipples and squeezed them and fucked faster. The waves of pain and pleasure were hard to take but then of course I could take them. I jacked my own cock in time with him and my balls were being mashed by his body. So much sensation. His beautiful face was slightly unshaven with short, light brown hair and those milk chocolate coloured eyes were shining and gorgeous. Holy fuck, why was this guy single?
He fucked even faster and I rode the edge of it like I was surfing a huge wave and trying not to be pulled under and I wondered how long I could stand this. Almost too much. More than Jack, I realized. But he was working hard enough that he started to get there. His breathing became all hoarse and his mouth opened and then he shut his eyes. I could tell by his face his was filling me with cum, but he didn't stop fucking and there was no change in speed. But then he stopped suddenly, gasping.
He opened his eyes and smiled at me like a little boy who has done something he's very proud of. Amazingly adorable. He leaned down and gave me a whole bunch of kisses and he licked the sweat off my face. He said, “You are so sexy, Michael. So fucking sexy. If you were not with Chris I would have you.”
That was a statement all right. I stared into his eyes and was ever so slightly overwhelmed. I didn't take it in a pervy way. I didn't think he was going to stalk me or anything. I took it as the nicest compliment I had had in years. But remember my thought about my gut? My gut also told me that he totally had a crush on me. I would have to be careful.
I turned to Chris and saw that he was still jacking his cock and I said, “Get over here.” He came over and Marco pulled out of me – which was intense all over again – and Chris crawled on top of me and he took both our cocks in his hand and started to jerk us off together. I had thought he would fuck me, but this was just as fun. He stroked us for about thirty second and then almost at the same time, our cocks started to spurt cum all over my chest. Chris threw his head back and gasped and I looked down at our cocks which were covered in cum, and there was a little lake all over my chest.
Chris leaned down and slurped up a bunch and fed it to me. Marco leaned down and did the same, and the three of us traded our cum and kissed very sweetly. Marco lay down and wrapped his arms around both of us and kissed my forehead. We dozed and I felt pretty fucking good.
We sent Marco home, and Chris told me that when Marco had kissed him goodnight, he had whispered in his ear that he hoped to fuck each of us separately now and then. I said, my gut being confirmed, “I think what he really means is fuck me separately. He's got a thing for me, I can just tell.”
“Yeah, I had that feeling, too.” We hugged for a minute until I realized we were naked and practically on the street. Oh well.
--
Through March and April, Chris and Goran were in full-on training for the French Open. And at the same time, our house was almost finished. Chris said to me late in March, “Mike, I think you'll have to make the decisions about the house for a while. My head is going to be on the Open. Is that all right?”
I gave him a big hug and said, “You do what you need to do. I can handle the house.”
So I spent a lot of time talking with the architect and various of the skilled people who were finishing the kitchen, the bathrooms, the deck. So much skill. So much, that I started to become interested in it. I mean doing it. I hung out with Marco and he reminded me how to do things with tools and wood. I say reminded, because I was remembering that my dad – for all his fucked up ways – had been a really good carpenter and I remember watching him as a kid and teenager, and he had let me help, patiently showing me the basics of working with wood. I think he got that from my grandfather who I never knew.
So when Marco offered to teach me, I was totally into it. But I had to warn him that he could only fuck me now and then. I told him it was obvious he had a crush on me. But he was gracious and respectful and he understood that Chris was my guy and at some point, husband. Oh yeah...when was that going to happen? Time will tell.
So I spent the better part of April starting some basic projects: a table, some chairs for our deck. It's not like I picked it up fast, but I enjoyed it and Marco was patient with me. Maybe he was patient because he wanted to fuck me all the time, which I only allowed him to do a couple of times, and as tops go he was one of the best. But he also taught me a lot things about woodworking that my father never had the patience for.
But as April came to a close, we also got ready to go to France. Brad came, leaving Seamus at home and part of the reason for that was they adopted a kid. Holy fuck. My Brad was a parent! How cool is that? But Brad went into full-on manager mode nevertheless and got us all organized and ready. We rented a big flat in Paris that cost a fortune, but it was Paris, what do you expect?
Even though Paris was the home base, the first tournament was in Rome. We flew there and it was not very exciting. Most of the top seeds didn't come, so Goran and Chris battled it out for the win, and Goran won. Just.
We all came back happy for Goran because it was a real boost to his confidence. Our boys hadn't signed up for any other tournaments so we had a week or so to chill. Still no sex, mind you. OK, I sucked Chris off once because I begged.
Brad and I went and did some sightseeing and you know what? Paris sucks. I don't care what anyone says. Sure, it's beautiful and oh-so-fashionable but the people are annoying. I suppose they're annoying because of all the tourists like me, but nevertheless.
We hung out in this little cafe somewhere near the Opera House and drank beer, then decided to check out the Louvre. Kind of huge. We didn't stay long since it was almost overwhelming. We were sitting on a bench nearby, wondering what to do when this dude walked by and totally gave Brad and I the look. You know the one I mean. I was randy as fuck and I think Brad was as well, so we smiled at the guy. He stopped and turned back to us. I noticed a British flag on his backpack. He said, “Hey...”
I grinned at him and said, “Hey, yourself. We were sitting here wondering what to do when you walked by. How convenient is that?”
They guy laughed and said, “Really convenient. Do you have a room nearby?”
I looked at Brad and we both realized we couldn't drag this guy home because if Chris was there, he would be pissed and mostly because he couldn't join in. I said, “Do you?”
He smiled and said, “I do...a little hotel over there.” He pointed to the other side of the square.”
Brad stood up and said, “What are we waiting for?”
We got to the guy's hotel and he was right: little. His room was tiny, but we made do. Brad pushed him on the bed and we both took his clothes off. He was a young guy, a bit skinny, but when we pulled his underwear off, he had a really nice cut cock of a really suckable size. Brad got to work in the sucking department and I pulled my pants down and fed him my cock and then my balls, and then my ass. He was interested in all of it. Once he had tongued my hole a bunch I moved down and let his cock slide into me while Brad, ever adventurous, pulled the guys legs apart and managed to stuff his cock in the guys's ass at the same time.
Brad wrapped his arms around me for stability and kissed my back and fucked the guy hard, and I flexed my legs and fucked myself down on him. I hadn't expected this kind of threeway, but it was amazing, quick and dirty. The kid almost yelled and filled my ass, and then Brad did the same. I slid off the kid's cock and jacked myself into his mouth which I don't think he was expecting and I don't think he particularly liked, but he went along with it, swallowing it all. I was on fire. I leaned down and kissed the guy and told him he was a champ for taking my cum. He grinned at me.
We rested for a few minutes and then Brad, to my surprise, got the kid to fuck him. He was young, so I suppose he didn't need a lot of recovery time, because he fucked Brad hard, and came quickly. I leaned down and cleaned out Brad's ass and shared it around. There was no way I could come again that fast, so we all got dressed and we kissed the boy a bunch and he sent us on our way. Nice afternoon.
The next day, the three of us had lunch with Tomasso who had come up to Chris at a practice session just before and they had a talk about the state of tennis. I finally asked him to come to lunch with us at this outdoor place in the Marais. Tomasso was the coolest guy and he seemed really happy to meet me and he said he thought we were the most interesting couple in tennis. That felt nice. He was funny and charming and a little flirty. Chris and I spent some time that night trying to figure out if he was just metrosexual or if he really was flirting or if he was just messing around. But it was fun whatever he was doing.
The Open started and Chris and Goran – and Tomasso - sailed through the early rounds without incident. The shitty homophobe lost in the fourth round to the skinny French dude who was really getting good. The American also complained about him, so obviously it wasn't just Chris. Asshole. Goran played the other American with the wicked serve in the quarters and won.
Chris and Tomasso played each other on the other side and Tomasso was amazing but their match was like the last time: long and evenly matched. Who would win seemed to teeter on the edge of some random event on the other side of the planet. And this time, it was Chris who must have blinked at the wrong time because he fucked up a service return and that was it. Chris was clearly disappointed, but he seemed happy for Tomasso and they hugged at the end, with big smiles.
After the match, Tomasso met us as we were coming out of the tennis centre and hugged us both. It felt like he could become a good friend and we invited him to Barcelona once the dust settled and before Wimbledon. He seemed really pleased. Once he left, Brad said, “Was he flirting with you two? But I'm sure he's straight...he had a girlfriend last year, some knock-out Russian model with big tits. I don't get it.”
I gave him a slap on the ass and said, “Some of us are bisexual, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. But it still surprises me coming from him.
Two days later, Goran and Tomasso had an epic match – a little like Chris and Goran or Chris and Tomasso. They were evenly matched and both had long arms that could catch the sneakiest groundstroke. But our Goran wore him down and won. Tomasso actually kissed his hand and the crowd yelled their appreciation.
--
We got home from Paris and Chris was a little down. Not too much, but I could tell he was annoyed with himself for not beating Tomasso. He had nothing but praise for him, and felt it was his match to lose. I tried to talk him down or distract him by the usual means, which he enjoyed of course, but it didn't change his mood. So I decided to make good on our promise to Tomasso to come and visit.
I texted him and asked when he wanted to come, and he sent a reply with lots of exclamation marks and emojis. I couldn't tell if this was an Italian thing, or a Tomasso thing. But he arrived the second week of June and we picked him up at the train station. He was excited to see our house since we had told him it had just been renovated and expanded.
Seeing it through Tomasso's eyes, I got excited again. It was still pretty low-key but it was now all clad in wood to make it uniform and the windows had been replaced and were bigger. It was kind of a series of boxes all set on top of each other, getting smaller as you go up. At the top, of course, was our little retreat that was bigger and had way more space to lounge around. Tomasso was very impressed.
We had a nice dinner on the deck and talked tennis, and life and relationships. He seemed very interested in ours and was curious about how sexually open we were while still being completely committed to each other. He said he had always wanted that but hadn't found anyone who wanted it with him. After opening another bottle of wine, Chris took a big sip and I knew he was going to wade in. “So...Tomasso. You're straight, right?”
I love Chris so much, especially when he just goes for it. Just like tennis. Tomasso burst out laughing and it took him a moment to collect himself. He finally said, “You are too funny. If you are trying to be subtle, then you are not doing a good job.”
Chris looked uncomfortable – which is unusual for him – and he said, “Subtle? About what?”
Tomasso chuckled again and drank some wine. His brownish-gold hair was starting to fall in his eyes which made him look adorable. But I wasn't sure if I was allowed to adore him. Finally he said, “About wanting to have sex with me. It is very obvious. And I'm flattered. In fact I'm rather intensely flattered, if I'm honest. But you need to know that I have hardly ever had sex with men....”
He stopped and drank some more wine and seemed to change the subject, talking about his cousin or someone. I kind of lost track. I looked at Chris and he seemed puzzled. I think we were both having the same experience. We had been both getting the sense that Tomasso was at least interested. But now that seemed doubtful. Our 'guts' hadn't been wrong until that moment.
The conversation turned to politics in tennis. I mentioned the asshole who was overtly homophobic toward Chris and I. Tomasso shook his head. “Brent is a fool. He thinks no one will stop him from treating you that way, but you two should know that no one on the tour thinks as he does. We have ostracized him and that makes him act even more foolishly.”
Chris cleared his throat and said, “So why doesn't anyone stop him?”
Tomasso shook his head in agreement, but then he said, “A friend of mine at the ITF says they are considering sanctioning him or barring him from competition if he continues this way. Don't worry. He is being watched.”
This was the first I had heard of it and I think it was news to Chris as well, but it made me feel better. As if we weren't alone in this. I couldn't wait to tell Goran.
Then out of the blue, Tomasso said, “So you two are attracted to me. Interesting.”
The smile on Chris' face was worth a picture. “Well...I suppose we were curious...”
“Don't be coy, Chris. You are never coy on the court so why would you be now?”
Chris nodded. “So what do you think?”
Tomasso hesitated and then I knew that we hadn't been wrong. Or at least completely wrong. “I don't generally want to be intimate with men. But there is something about you two. So I'm saying that I'm unsure...but I am willing to find out. How does that sound?”
I decided to contribute something to this debate, so I said, “So if you want to find out...how would you liked to find out?”
His smile was big and happy. “You have asked the right question, Michael. How would I indeed? Well, you must let me do this on my own terms.”
I looked at Chris, not sure what he meant. Chris shrugged and looked at Tomasso for help. Tomasso was clearly going to show us. He said, “Why don't we go over to that lovely piece of furniture over there...” and he indicated the big day bed.
He got up and strolled over to it, sitting down and looking at us expectantly. Chris got up and joined him, sitting not too close, but just close enough. I sat on the other side of him. We waited. Tomasso then took Chris' hand and kissed it. Very formal. Then he leaned close to Chris and gently started to pull off Chris' t-shirt. He said, “I want to look at you, Chris. Can I?”
“Of course you can.”
Tomasso ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair as if he was nervous, mussing it up. His eyes were half-closed as if he was trying to figure something out, but then he turned to Chris again and ran his hand up and down Chris' taut, smoothly muscled chest. He seemed fascinated by the pale blonde fuzz on it. He did it a few times as if he'd never touched a guy before. I had a feeling he had, but this was still not something he did very often.
Chris took a chance and gently took Tomasso's hand and pulled it down to his crotch, pushing his hand against the obvious bulge there. Tomasso said, “You're hard.”
Smiling, Chris said, “Of course. You're very hot.”
Tomasso pressed a little harder into Chris' pants and said, “I like this English word, 'hot'. For when someone is very sexy. You two are very hot.” He turned to me and put his hand on my shorts. I leaned back a little, letting him feel my growing prick. Chris and I knew that we needed to wait for him to do something more. Or less.
He felt our bulging shorts some more, then he said, “Can you both take them off? Take off everything?”
Now we were talking. I said, “Of course we can. We'll do whatever you want.”
I stood up and slid my shorts down, then my red briefs, and tossed them behind me. I pulled my t-shirt off and dropped it. My cock was rigid and wet and I wanted to use it so badly, but I restrained myself and sat down again. I noticed that Chris had done the same. He was holding his cock in his hand, but not stroking it. When we were both sitting, I looked at Tomasso, raising my eyebrows as if to say: What now?
As before, he reached out to both of us and took our cocks in his hands. Not tightly, but a nice grip. I wanted to move my hips, but I managed to just sit there, feeling his warm skin on mine. He slowly moved his hand up my cock and ran his thumb over the head, spreading some of my juice over it. I had to moan. I just had to. Chris made a similar sound. Tomasso said, “Your cocks are very beautiful and slippy. Is that the right word?”
Chris laughed and said, “That will do.”
“I wonder if mine is. Would you like to see?”
That was an easy question to answer, but we let him go at his own pace. He took his hands away from our dicks and slipped his shorts off, which were beige and tight. His underwear was black and skimpy and his cock was getting there. Semi-hard. He pulled them off and did something that almost made me cum right there. He brought them to my face and pressed them onto my nose. I took a deep breath and said, “That smells fantastic, Tomasso. You smell fantastic.”
He grinned at me and turned and did the same thing to Chris, who inhaled a few times with a little groan. This guy was playing us like a fucking piano, and we loved it.
Turning back to me, he took my hand and brought it to his cock, which was uncut, and a really nice size, similar to ours. I gripped it and it felt hot and a little sweaty. With a quiet voice, he said, “I want you to suck me, Michael.”
Better words I had never heard. But I said, “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes, I really want you to suck me.”
So I leaned over and gave the head of his cock some tongue, then I put my lips on the end with a bit of suction and jacked the base a few times. I kept up the suction and slowly pulled his cock into my mouth. All the way. He was a bit thicker than Chris but the length seemed familiar and I was able to push just the head into my throat. Tomasso sighed and ran his hand through my hair.
I heard his voice say to Chris, “Come closer...I want to kiss you.”
I felt Chris move and I raise my head a little and Tomasso ran his hand over Chris's face, exploring his jaw, then he moved up to him and very softly and slowly brought his lips to Chris' and almost in slow motion, they started to kiss, but not in that hungry way we get when we're turned on, but in a slow, sensual way when you want to experience every moment.
Tomasso was massaging my head and I continued to kiss and lick the end of his cock, pulling it in and using my tongue all over the shaft and I heard him moan into Chris' mouth. As I suctioned up the length, I felt his hands start to lift me up. He said, “Chris...can you do what Michael was doing?”
My Chris smiled innocently and said, “Of course.”
Tomasso pulled my face to his and with a series of gentle, slow kisses at various angles, he explored my mouth. Not much tongue, but occasionally I felt it slip in my mouth and I met it with my own. I could tell he was unsure of himself, but that he wanted to find out.
I glanced down and watched Chris holding Tomasso's cock and playing his tongue all over the head, then pulling the whole thing into his mouth and Tomasso moaned in my mouth this time. It was all so intense and quiet. I ran my hand up Tomasso's chest and my fingers trailed over his nipples.
Finally, Tomasso moved his face back. His lips were all wet and pink. He said, “I want to watch Chris fuck you, Michael.” Now we were getting somewhere.
