Weeks had flown by since that unforgettable night, and the atmosphere in our house had shifted into something electric, a continuous exploration of lust and desire. Malik, my dad, and I had found ourselves in this new, exhilarating rhythm of life where threesomes were not just a wild exception but a thrilling norm. I always harboured a fantasy of joining a couple for sex, a deep-seated desire to explore new dimensions of intimacy and pleasure. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that this fantasy would unfold with my dad and stepdad. The reality of it was both thrilling and surreal, pushing the boundaries of what I thought was possible within our unique family dynamic.
Our bedrooms had become playgrounds of passion, where the idea of privacy had taken on a whole new meaning—or rather, disappeared entirely. There were no boundaries to our bedroom doors anymore. The rules of engagement were simple: come and go as you please, whether someone was in the throes of ecstasy or not. This openness had transformed our living space into a realm where desire could be expressed at any moment.
If Malik was getting fucked by my dad in the living room, I could walk in, join, or simply watch; the choice was mine. The same went for any of us; if I was riding Malik in my room, dad could saunter in, either to participate or enjoy the show. This new dynamic wasn't just about sex; it was about trust, consent, and the freedom to explore every facet of our desires together. We had all agreed to this lifestyle, finding joy and satisfaction in the unpredictability and the constant availability of each other's bodies. It was a house where love, lust, and the lines between them blurred into one beautiful, ongoing journey of sexual liberation.
One of the weeks, my work schedule had been relentless, leaving me with no time or energy for the usual intimate escapades with Malik and Dad. They were understanding, never pushing me when they knew my mind was elsewhere, buried under work. However, one night, just before I was about to succumb to sleep, I heard Malik's unmistakable screams of pleasure echoing from their room. Both doors were wide open, allowing the sound to travel freely. My body, already tense from the week's stress, reacted instantly to the sound; I was craving the release, craving the feel of a cock, anything to break the monotony of work.
Unable to resist any longer, I padded over to their room, finding Malik sprawled naked on the bed, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Dad was there too, in the process of getting ready for bed, his recent act of giving Malik a blowjob evident from the satisfied look on Malik's face and the screams I'd heard.
"Do you mind?" I asked, my voice filled with desire as I looked at Malik.
Malik, his chest still heaving from his recent climax, just nodded, a knowing grin spreading across his face. I didn't need any more invitations. I climbed onto the bed, positioned myself between Malik's legs, and took his semi-hard cock into my mouth, feeling it grow with each eager lick and suck. I worked him with a hunger fueled by a week of abstinence, my tongue swirling around his head, my lips sliding down his length. Malik's moans filled the room again, his hands threading through my hair, guiding me with gentle pressure.
I lost track of time, but it must have been 10-15 minutes of dedicated sucking when I felt Malik's body tense, his cock pulsing in my mouth. With a groan, he released his second load of the night, hot and thick, filling my mouth with his cum. I savoured it, and the taste was a sharp contrast to the blandness of my work-filled days. While I was focused on Malik, I caught sight of my dad, lying beside him, his hand moving rhythmically over his own cock. As Malik came, Dad, spurred on by the sight and sounds of our pleasure, shot his load onto his belly and chest, his own moans joining Malik's.
After ensuring I had taken every drop from Malik, I left the room, the taste of his cum still lingering on my tongue. Back in my room, the need for release was overwhelming. I quickly jerked off, the memory of Malik's screams and the taste of his seed pushing me over the edge, giving me the quick, intense relief I desperately needed before collapsing into bed, finally feeling the weight of the week lift off my shoulders.
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When dad was bogged down with work, it became Malik's and my private playground. We'd seize those moments, diving into each other with a hunger that only grew with every encounter. Without dad's presence, our explorations became more personal and more intense. We'd experiment with new fantasies, each session pushing the boundaries of what we thought we knew about each other's desires. Malik and I would spend hours lost in each other, our bodies communicating in ways words never could. We'd try out new positions, toys, or role-play scenarios. The absence of dad didn't create a void; instead, it amplified our connection. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was an opportunity to learn more about the other, to deepen our bond through shared ecstasy.
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Workout Bench Punishment
Dad was away on a business trip for 2 days, leaving just Malik and me to fill the silence with our own brand of fun. Our home had a spare room that had recently been turned into a mini-gym with the addition of a workout bench and some weights, courtesy of Malik's fitness obsession. This room was about to become the arena for our latest "Coach and Player" role-play, where Malik's authoritative presence and his past as a bodybuilder would dictate the game.
The morning sun was just beginning to heat up the day, but Malik had a different kind of warmth in mind. Before we even started our roleplay, he turned off the AC, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I want us both drenched in sweat by the time we're done," he declared, his voice a promise of what would come.
Malik was already in character. Malik's dark hair was neatly styled, his eyes sharp and commanding. He wore a tight tank top that clung to his muscular torso and a pair of gym shorts that left little to the imagination, emphasizing his powerful thighs and the outline of his cock. I, on the other hand, was in just my briefs, ready for whatever 'training' he had in store.
"Alright, player," Malik's voice boomed, echoing off the walls, "you've been slacking, and I'm not going to fucking tolerate it anymore. Let's see if you can keep up today."
"Yes, Coach," I responded, the excitement of submission coursing through me.
He pointed to the center of the room. "Start with push-ups. Show me fifty, and make them count, you little bitch." We both dropped to the floor, side by side, his form impeccable, muscles bulging with each push. I managed to keep pace for a while, but by the thirtieth push-up, my arms were trembling, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Fucking hell, player, you can't even do fifty push-ups?" Malik growled, his voice a mix of mock anger and genuine disappointment. After he completed 50 push-ups, he stood up effortlessly, his sweat already beading on his forehead, while I struggled to my feet. "Bend over," he commanded, and I did, feeling the sting of his hand on my ass, spanking me hard. "That's for being weak."
Next, he ordered squats. "Seventy-five squats, don't fucking stop until I say so!" Again, he joined me, his body moving with an ease that came from years of discipline, his thighs tensing, his ass flexing with each squat. His sweat started to glisten on his skin.
But by the fiftieth squat, my legs were on fire, barely able to keep up. "I can't, Coach," I gasped, my voice strained with effort.
"Not good enough!" His voice was harsh, his hand coming down on my ass again, the slap sharp and loud. "For that, you're going to pay, player."
Malik was now sweating profusely, his raw, masculine scent filling the room, making my senses reel. "Look at you, already sweating like a pig," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He removed his tank top and commanded me, "Clean my pits, player. Now!"
He cupped his hands behind his head, revealing his hairy armpits, now drenched in sweat. I moved closer, the smell hitting me like a drug. His armpits were dripping with fresh sweat; his armpit hair was matted and glistening. I buried my face in one pit, inhaling deeply, the scent intoxicating, like the essence of his dominance. My tongue darted out, licking up the sweat, tasting the saltiness of his effort, the musk of his exertion.
"Fuck, you're loving this, aren't you?" he teased, his voice a rumble of pleasure. I moved to the other pit, lapping up the sweat, feeling his hand on the back of my head, pressing me closer, encouraging me to clean every drop.
After cleaning his armpits, my mouth travelled down to his chest, finding his nipples. As soon as my lips and tongue made contact, Malik started moaning like crazy, his sensitive nipples reacting instantly to my touch. His chest was a sight to behold, a monument to his dedication and masculinity. His pectoral muscles were magnificently sculpted, each one pronounced and firm, rising and falling with his laboured breaths. The dark chest hair that covered his chest was thick and wild, a testament to his raw, untamed masculinity, like a work of art.
Malik's body hair wasn't just hair; it was a badge of his alpha presence. I couldn't help but run my hands through his chest hair, feeling the texture, the dampness, revelling in the feel of his power beneath my palms. It was this blend of strength and the natural untamed hair that made me crave him more, turning each touch, each kiss on his chest, into an act of devotion to his sexiness and strength. It was coarse under my fingers and against my cheek as I nuzzled into it, the scent of his sweat mingling with his natural musk, creating an intoxicating aroma that was all Malik.
His nipples, surrounded by this dark forest of hair, stood out, hard and responsive. Every lick, every gentle bite made him shudder, his moans growing louder, filling the space with the sound of his pleasure. The way his body reacted, the way his chest heaved under my ministrations, it was like worshipping at the altar of his masculinity. "Fuck player, your tongue is doing magic on my nipples now, don't stop, keep going. It feels so good, Ahhh.. Fuck.."
After I had worshipped his pits, chest and nipples for several minutes, Malik grabbed his tank top, yanking it off to wipe down my sweat-drenched body. But instead of just using the fabric, he used his tongue as well, licking along my collarbone, down my chest, and into my armpits, the sensation sending new waves of arousal through me. "Fuck player, you smell damn good." He kept enjoying my sweat and raw scent for another few minutes.
Then, Malik commanded me to lie down on the workout bench, and with a stern look, he handed me a barbell that wasn't too heavy, knowing I'd need his support to lift anything substantial. I gripped the bar, feeling the cold metal against my sweaty palms, and began to lift, my arms shaking slightly with the effort.
While I was in the middle of a lift, Malik moved to the front of the bench, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of lust and authority. With one swift motion, he yanked down my briefs, revealing my already hard cock, the tip glistening with precum. "Come on, player, lift it more, don't stop," he urged, his voice commanding as he wrapped his hand around my cock, stroking it in rhythm with my lifts.
"I can't, Coach," I gasped out, feeling the strain in my arms and the pleasure from his hand. Then, without warning, Malik gave my dick a slap with his palm, not hard enough to hurt but enough to send a jolt through me, mixing pleasure with a hint of pain. "That's for not being able to complete all the exercises," he growled, his voice a low rumble of dominance.
He continued to stroke me, his hand moving with a deliberate, firm touch, using my precum as lube. "You need to learn to push through, player. No excuses," he said. He released my cock from his palm, his free hands now pressing down on the barbell, helping me to lift it back into place as my arms gave out.
Malik tugged down his gym shorts, letting them fall to the floor. With me still lying on my back on the bench, he then sat down on my chest, his hard cock and hairy balls now just inches from my face, the musk of his sweaty balls filling my senses.
"Suck my cock, player. And don't forget my balls," he commanded, his voice thick with desire and authority. Without hesitation, I obeyed, my lips parting to take his cock into my mouth. It was rock hard, the taste of his sweat mixing with the saltiness of his precum, making my own arousal spike. I worked my tongue around the head of his cock, savouring the texture, before sliding down further, taking as much of his cock as I could. His moans encouraged me, his hand gripping the back of my head, not forcing but guiding, urging me on.
Then, I moved to his balls, heavy and covered in a thick mat of hair, damp with sweat. I licked them, the taste and smell intoxicating - a pure, unfiltered essence of masculinity. Each lick, each gentle suck on his balls, made Malik groan louder, his body tensing with pleasure above me.
"That's it, player, show me you can handle this," he grunted, his voice a mixture of pleasure and command. I continued, alternating between his cock and balls, my own cock throbbing beneath him, the pressure of his weight on my chest adding to the overwhelming sensation of submission and desire.
After I worshipped his cock and balls for a while, "Now," he said, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Since you couldn't finish your exercises, you'll get a special kind of punishment." He grabbed my hand to help me stand up, then pushed me towards the bench, revealing my ass. "Player, bend over. Now you'll take my fucking cock like the weak player you are.."
I felt his hands on my hips, his cock pressing against my entrance after he quickly lubed us both up. Without much preamble, he thrust into me, the initial stretch a shock that quickly changed into pleasure. "This is what happens when you don't complete your exercises," Malik grunted, his thrusts deep and punishing, each one a testament to his control and my submission.
"Coach, I'm sorry," I moaned, my voice a mix of genuine apology and feigned submission for our game. His pace was relentless, his body slamming into mine, his grunts mingling with my moans, filling the room with the sounds of our sex. He continued to fuck me in that position for several minutes.
He then moved to the bench, laying down with his cock still hard, glistening with sweat and our combined excitement. "Get up here and ride me, slacker," he commanded. His voice was a mix of authority and lust. I didn't need to be told twice. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. His sharp eyes watched me like a predator, enjoying his prey's compliance. I positioned myself over his 7-inch cock, feeling it slide back into me, filling me up once more. Using his muscular chest as support, I began to ride him, my movements deliberate, each rise and fall sending waves of pleasure through both of us. His eyes never left mine, those sharp, knowing eyes that seemed to see right through me, adding to the intensity.
"You look so fucking good taking me like this," he growled, his hands moving to my hips, guiding me, sometimes pushing down to make me take him deeper. "Ride that cock like you mean it, you dirty little player. Show me how much you love it." His vulgar encouragements spurred me on, the pleasure mixing with the thrill of his words. I could feel his cock hitting just the right spots inside me, my own arousal building with every movement. After several minutes of this intense ride, when I was panting and sweating, almost at my limit, he gave another command.
"On your back on the bench, now," he ordered, his voice thick with desire. I complied. I stood up, releasing his cock from my hole. Malik stood, his eyes still on me, ready to continue this dance of dominance and submission. Now I'm on my back on the bench and my legs up. His eyes were dark with desire as he re-entered me, this time watching my face, gauging every reaction. "You'll learn to do better," he said, his voice thick with lust as he fucked me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
Malik's sweat was dripping onto me as he exerted himself. His body is like a machine of sex and punishment. I couldn't resist reaching out, my hands sliding over his wet, muscular form, feeling the power and the heat radiating from him. The sweat made his skin slick, and I pulled him closer, wanting to be drenched in his essence, in the musky sweat that was uniquely his. As he leaned forward, our chests met, skin sliding against skin, our sweat mingling. His lips found mine in a fierce kiss, the taste of our sweat mixing, making the kiss all the more intense. While his lips claimed mine, his hips never stopped, his cock driving into me with a force that was both punishing and exhilarating. Each thrust was underlined by the slippery contact, the sweat acting as both a lubricant and a symbol of our exertion. Our bodies moved in a dance of raw, unfiltered desire.
As our bodies moved in sync, the room was charged with the energy of our play. "Coach, I'm gonna cum..," I warned, my voice strained with the effort to hold back. Malik, in his role as the commanding coach, wasn't ready to accept it. "Not yet, fucking player," he growled, pulling out his cock abruptly, leaving me aching and on the edge. But he wasn't done with me. He shifted, his hands spreading my ass open, and then I felt the unexpected, the forbidden thrill of his tongue against my used sweaty hole.
"Fuck," I screamed, the word tearing out of me as waves of pleasure shot through my body like electric shocks. His tongue was hot and relentless, exploring and tasting the sweat and the remnants of our earlier play. Each delve of his tongue into my hole was like a new level of ecstasy, the sensation intensified by the fact I was so close to the edge. The room seemed to spin, my senses overwhelmed by the heat, the smell of our sweat, and the raw intimacy of the act. Malik's tongue was both soothing and stimulating, a stark contrast to the punishing thrusts I had been enduring.
With the taste of my ass still on his lips, then Malik positioned himself again, his cock finding its way back into me with a possessive ease. I was on the bench, still reeling from the rimming, my body primed and sensitive to every touch. He began to fuck me again, his movements now more urgent, each thrust deep, powerful and claiming.
The room was filled with our heavy breathing and the slap of flesh against flesh. With a few final, deep thrusts, I felt Malik tense up, his body going rigid, his cock pulsing inside me as he came, filling me with his hot seed. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth spreading inside me, marking me.
But Malik wasn't done. Even as he was catching his breath, his hand found my hard cock, slick with our combined sweat. His cock was still resting in my hole, but still hard. He started to stroke me, his touch firm and knowing. The sensation was too much, the culmination of the role-play, the heat, the sweat, his amazing fuck, and now this direct stimulation. My orgasm hit like a freight train, unstoppable and fierce. I came hard, my cum shooting out in thick ropes, landing on my belly, chest, and some even reaching my face. Malik's face lit up with a smile that was pure joy. "Fuck yeah, look at that shit," he exclaimed, his voice full of delight.
"You've painted yourself like the dirty little player you are." His laughter was rich, filled with the thrill of the moment. "I love how you just fucking unload for me." His words were vulgar, dripping with the pleasure he took in the scene, in the control he had, and in the shared ecstasy of our play.
We collapsed, Malik's weight atop me, a comforting and grounding force after the intensity of our play. Our breaths mingled, hot and heavy, the air between us thick with the scent of sex and sweat. He nuzzled into my neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against my skin, each one a gentle contrast to the earlier ferocity.
He then moved up, his tongue tracing the path of the cum shots that had landed on my face. The sensation was oddly tender, a loving cleanup after the storm. As he did, my own cum on my belly and chest began to mix with our sweat, creating a slippery, warm sensation between our bodies. The feeling of my cum rubbing against us was both intimate and filthy, a testament to our shared pleasure. The smell of his sweat, now mingled with mine, was all over us, creating this intimate sensation. The scent of Malik's body was an intoxicating blend of musk, sweat, and the raw essence of male arousal. It was like a thick, heady perfume that filled the air around us, a scent that was both primal and deeply personal.
Malik's voice, now soft and almost affectionate, whispered against my skin, "You did well for a slacker. But you'll need more training." His words, though teasing, carried a promise of more sessions, more exploration, and more moments where we'd push each other to new heights of ecstasy. The exercises, the sweat, the punishment—they were all part of the role-play, where we could explore, push boundaries, and still come back to each other with respect and love.
After a while, we cleaned up, but the memory of that afternoon of being 'punished' by Coach Malik lingered, adding another layer to our unique bond. Our little gym room became a place of both fitness and intimate adventures.
