Camouflage

Sitting next to her husband, Maria watched the miles swish by. Riding the highway in the motorhome, that was the life. But her mind wasn't on the scenery. It was on the events of a couple nights ago – their last evening in the RV park they'd spent several days in. A small smile played briefly across her lips, as she replayed, for the millionth time, what had taken place. Maria glanced at Sam. He was busy driving, blissfully unaware. And the scenes that ran across the screen of her mind were amazing – erotic vignettes starring a stranger – a stranger that looked just like her. It made her glow and tingle between her legs.

One thing Maria and Sam Davison liked about RVing was meeting people. People in RV parks were generally happy and friendly and gregarious. Several days back, the Davisons had pulled into a nice resort, and set up for a three or four-day stay. On the first day, they met and chatted with an amiable, apparently gay, couple, Marc and Julian, who were just strolling along the lanes of the park.

After chatting casually, again, the next couple of days, The Boys, as Sam had immediately started to refer to them, invited the Davisons to join them that evening, in their 'rig'. "Come on over for dinner and drinks tonight, hey – site A63? Whaddya think? Say six-ish."

The Boys' rig, it turned out, was a super-A diesel pusher motorhome. Downright palatial in comparison to Sam and Maria's.

After welcoming them with drinks, and getting them settled on the couch, Marc and Julian set about preparing dinner in the large, open kitchen. The Davisons found them rather entertaining as they slapped and tickled – shamelessly – and constantly – groping and touching one another. After the initial shock of their open behavior, Maria and Sam felt kind of honored that The Boys felt comfortable enough to be so open with them.

Marc and Julian engaged in a steady stream of swishy banter, while they fussed in the kitchen – all the time speaking with a gay affectation, that sing-song exuberance of consciously effeminate gay men. They bragged, apropos nothing, about who had the better body, teasing each other, giggling and getting all touchy-feely with one another. Apparently harmless and non-threatening, their antics seemed to be so without guile or pretense, that they put the Davisons completely at ease.

And they were very attentive hosts, serving, first, a fine assortment of hors d'ourves, and pre-dinner aperitifs, followed by an exotic salad, as a prelude to a delicious, well-presented, gourmet meal. The wine served with dinner was exceptional and plentiful, so that Maria and Sam felt like they were being spoiled rotten. A cheese and fruit course occupied them while the main course was being cleared, then dessert wine and a delicate sweet were served. "This would be the time for cigars, if that were still the fashion," Julian chuckled, as he went to top up drinks. Both Maria and Sam declined.

"Oh," Marc declared, "but you've just got to try the new cocktail Julian invented. We call it a 'Boyz Own' – spelt with a Z. It's simply divine!" Curious, both Sam and Maria accepted. After a critical sip, Sam, admitted, "This is really – reeeaalllly – good!" Maria nodded her agreement.

The foursome chatted like old friends, the conversation never lagging, and over the next hour, Julian topped up Sam's glass more than a couple times. Gradually Sam's head began to bob, until he finally gave in, and laid it back, saying, "Just resting my eyes for a moment." Shortly after, succumbing at last to fatigue and alcohol, Sam began loudly sawing logs. In retrospect, Maria wondered if his drinks had been spiked. Now, in the cold, sober light of reality, she suspected they had, but, as tipsy as she was, she thought nothing of it at the time.

The Boys gently moved Sam into the bedroom, "So we don't wake him with our carrying-on," Marc whispered, conspiratorially.

"... or have to converse over his snoring," Julian added, with a giggle.

"I should take him home," Maria protested.

"Oh, no!" The Boys said, almost in unison. "He'll be just fine!"

Maria nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll stay for a bit, then. Just a bit."

"Oh, goodie," Julian purred. They both smiled most engagingly.

While they puttered about, cleaning up, refreshing drinks, offering sweet tidbits – buzzing around – almost as if they're on speed, Maria thought to herself – The Boys debated, once again, in their outrageously gay artifice, who had the best, most sculpted – hardest – body. And looked to Maria for a ruling. Strutting up and down in front of her, Marc announced, "This is an on-going discussion between us. You're completely unbiased, eh? We'll show you, and you can decide!" He clapped his hands together, pleased that that was settled. Maria just sat quietly, eyes wide, while Julian changed the music. Everything coming at her so fast, coupled with the effects of the alcohol, left her more than a little bemused.

Standing side-by-side, in front of Maria, The Boys exchanged secret smiles as they began to sway to the music. Dancing, at first in unison, Marc took a tiny step back and waited, still swaying, as Julian smoothly, gracefully removed his shirt. Julian, then, passed the baton back to Marc with his eyes. Fluidly, Marc teased his own shirt off.

Maria sat motionless, fascinated – rapt and speechless. Granted, she had not seen many strippers, "But," she marveled, "these two seem to really know what they're doing!" Their moves were very skilled, classic male stripper moves, filled with art and grace – and their bodies... "Oh, my!" Maria gasped, as each slow, teasing reveal proceeded.

"Now pay attention, Maria, dear," Marc chided, sensing Maria's eyes beginning to glaze. "You're the sole judge, here." And so, they went on, dancing in and out of unison, taking turns without seeming to pause, cleverly unwrapping: arms and legs – defined without being stringy; abs and pecs – chiseled and shaped; butts – rounded and tight. Until, finally, The Boys were parading about in their skivvies, showing off their poise through poses and motion.

They eventually came to a stop directly in front of Maria, close enough that she could feel the heat on her face emanating from their growing boners that strained at their briefs. Then, together, with a choreographed smoothness, they both bent and peeled their underwear down, off their respective hips and down their thighs to drop to their ankles and be delicately kicked aside – the Full Monty, as it were! Maria was surprised, but, oddly, still felt safe; after all, they were flaming homosexuals, weren't they?

Julian and Marc were both, uh, shall we say, substantially well-hung. They were much bigger than Sam, in fact, they were significantly bigger than anything she'd ever seen, in the flesh. Semi-erect and turgid, they wobbled and bounced in counterpoint. Maria was awed.

"Well," Julian chirped, playfully, "which of us is hunkier? Who has the hotter bod?"

"I – I – I couldn't say," Maria sputtered. "I mean, you're both – uh – fine specimens – but, really, I couldn't choose between you," she stammered, blushing profusely.

"Well, darn!" Marc complained.

Checking down the short hall, to steal a look at her comatose hubby, and glancing at her watch, Maria said, once again, "We really should leave."

"No!" Marc and Julian replied together, their cocks swinging like conductors' batons. "We won't hear of it," Marc went on. "Look," he said, pointing at the bedroom, and her slumbering hubby, "Sam's comfy. We've got a decision to make."

"And," Julian added, gleefully, "we're only just getting started."

Maria relaxed back for a bit, and soon The Boys were filling the room with lewd banter, once more. Out of the blue, Marc crooned, "You're a woman of experience, I'm sure."

"Not even slightly," Maria thought, "but I'm not going to admit that to these two!"

"Now, we need you to determine who is the more well-endowed." He went on as if this were the most mundane of ideas. "Three simple criteria. You'll just need to compare and decide on: who is longer (that's pretty straight-forward, if you'll excuse the pun;) who has more girth – thickness, that is; and whose is more massive – heavier."

"How...?" was the only thing that came to Maria, although that was fairly obvious.

"Simple," Julian stated, "Direct comparison, using your hands."

Maria was, more or less, blindsided by this proposal, but she didn't want to seem like an old prude, so she deluded herself that it was, "...nothing serious – it's all in fun. And who am I to put a damper on it, be the party-pooper?" So, she reached out and took Julian's tool in her hand. As she began fondling it to get the feel, Marc gently guided her other hand to his bobbing woodie. Maria gave her complete attention to the subjects of her evaluation – first one, then the other – squeezing and stroking the one under scrutiny while idly gripping the other; then switching. The boys were each getting increasingly erect, which Maria thought odd, "inasmuch as they're both gay. Perhaps they're turning each other on," she considered, going on with her careful inspection.

"Well," Marc chided, "who do you think? Who's got the top bod?"

"Who's the cock of the walk?" Julian added.

"Oh," Maria muttered, breathily, "I couldn't possibly decide between the two of you. Let's call it a tie."

"What a cop-out," Marc complained, playfully. "We'll need to do some further testing then."

"I know," Julian said gleefully, "Let's get her to determine who has the biggest plum – you know – cock-head." Maria tried gallantly not to show her shock – nor when he added, "You'll have to use your mouth, as your lips and tongue are your most sensitive parts."

"Other than the obvious," Marc chuckled, reaching in to briefly palm Maria's pussy through her slacks.

Maria was feeling as if she was on auto-pilot, and none of the protests her propriety demanded actually surfaced in her voice; instead, she just leaned forward and took Julian's plum into her mouth, drawing him over her lips, to orally grasp his shaft just behind the flared edge of his glans. She sucked her cheeks in to gauge his size and took his measure with her tongue.

Having got an idea of him, she withdrew, turning her attention from his twitching rod to Marc's meaty member. But, just as she did, Julian let go. His first volley splashed Maria's cheek, causing her to quickly turn back. The second spurt shot into her open mouth, causing her to gag, so that the third volley hit her right between the eyes. It wasn't until the fourth shot that she got the spitting beast back into her mouth. When he finally stopped cumming, Maria rocked back and stared in consternation.

The two cocks stood erect for inspection – one dripping and one juddering in anticipation. While Maria, her face running with splattered cum, studied them in confused appraisal, she somehow felt guilty that she had left Marc hanging, his stiffness vibrating in her hand. With a subtle shrug of her shoulders, she leaned forward and sucked his eager cock fully into her mouth. Any pretext of measurement or comparison vanished. This was just felatio, pure and simple. Even then, Marcia marveled at the variety of textures, and the increasing firmness.

It didn't take long for Marc to moan out his intentions. Taking her head in his hands, he pulled her on deep and held her as he emptied himself into her throat. Coughing and sputtering, Maria never let go of Julian. The hot, pulsing life emanating from these two young studs fanned the flames of Maria's increasing arousal. Her heaving chest was throwing off waves of heat, while her pussy tingled, gathering moisture. Here she was, astonishing herself; she could feel both of the cocks stiffening, once again. She, a mature, supposedly experienced woman, smiled inwardly, acknowledging a sort of bawdy pride in herself.

On an unseen signal, both The Boys pulled back, out of the reach of her on-going caresses – both manual and lingual. She, momentarily, felt abandoned. Then they reached in, with a smooth choreography, to touch and paw at her breasts. "It's only fair," they protested when she looked surprised. Smiling down on her with a contrived innocence, they swirled her nipples through her blouse. Her high-beam strained against the material, and a flaring arousal tickled her pussy.

Long seconds of sensation washed over Maria's tumbling stimulation, before The Boys stepped in closer, Marc dropping his hands from her bosom, to stroke inner thighs – playfully – checking her temperature, he claimed, while Julian continued to maul her boobs – commenting on their radiant heat and growing firmness. Absently batting at them in a half-hearted attempt to fend them off, Maria's hands landed back on their semi-erections – and rested there.

Then, suddenly going quiet, The Boys began gently removing Maria's clothes, as she sat, hands on their cocks, motionless, bemused, simply allowing their liberties. Once they had her naked, still naked themselves, The Boys, immediately delved into her treats – fingers and lips, Marc at her boobs, Julian onto her snatch. Drawing his tongue between her swollen labia, sweeping up her furrow, gathering her feminine dew, he swept around her bud, not touching it. Sparks arced up through Maria's fundament, spasms in her thighs bounced her bottom against his mouth. And still Marc fondled her tits relentlessly. Whimpering piteously, Maria thrust her pussy forward, trying to engage Julian's caresses with her love button. Drawing back down toward her anus, he paused for a moment, flicking his tip from side to side, then he pulled back up her pussy, taking dead aim on her clitoris. Moments after his tongue stabbed and swirled her clit, Maria erupted into a monster orgasm. Her heart pounded, as she quivered and shook, and mewed, grabbing Marc's hands to still them at her breasts. As the tremors passed, she went limp.

Before she could recover, however, Julian had repositioned her on the couch and, without hesitation, pushed his impressive erection authoritatively into her still pulsing pussy. Marc redoubled his attack on her tits, flicking her nipples with his tongue, pinching them with his fingers, furiously re-igniting her arousal. The freight train sounded its whistle once more, while the echoes of its first pass still rang in Maria's ears.

Julian fucked her with an almost manic intensity, his rigid cock filling her vagina, his groin slamming against her thighs, his hips forcefully rocking at each thrusted penetration. And, of course, in very short order, his desperate gasps heralded his climax as he held himself deep, and came in her – jetting volley after volley. Maria joined him, climaxing, again. Her head flopped from side to side, as she panted and sobbed, her eyes glazing over.

Before she could regain her composure, Julian had traded places with Marc, who, now lined up between her splayed thighs, abruptly drove himself in, fully ensconced. Without a moment's hesitation, he began pummeling her with long, penetrating strokes, taking them fairly quickly to yet another, for Maria, at least, simultaneous orgasm. Then Marc rolled to the side, and they were still, all three of them, luxuriating in the afterglow. It had been, for Maria, an unbelievable, never-before-experienced intensity of sex – a degree of arousal heretofore unimagined.

It was Julian who brought them back to earth, re-gathering Maria's attention. Seized by guilt she suddenly stiffened. Down the hall, she could hear Sam rhythmically snoring in a deep, uncaring sleep. She relaxed once again.

Maria was vaguely aware that one or the other of The Boys, had been, at various times, prancing around taking pictures. Actually, they had both taken turns, using tiny, Go-Pro style cameras, capturing the goings-on in both video and stills. As they lounged in the persisting afterglow, both of the fellows adamantly assured Maria that the pictures were simply for their own album use. "We can email you the files, if you want," Marc offered. Maria vaguely nodded – a non-committal response. Still, she realized, she was flattered that, at 53, she was arousing to these two thirty-somethings.

All lolling about naked, their arousal – all three – became evident once again: erect nipples, Maria's pussy puffing and moistening, the guys' cocks slowly growing again, and as they talked, Maria idly stroked them. Until, bobbing and weaving at her touch, drops of pre-cum appeared at their penile eyes.

"Ahhh," Julian observed, "Erectile tears! Such a delicacy. How about a taste-test, to see how they compare?" It was such a blatantly transparent excuse to get the train rolling again, that Maria had to laugh – then she extended the tip of her tongue to dab up the drop – Julian first, then Marc.

"Hunh!" Maria snorted, "insufficient samples to make a decision!" And without pausing, she swiftly turned over, and, on all fours, proceeded to alternately lave each weapon, letting her licking progress seamlessly to giving full-on head. Her attention focused onto Julian's tool, as she roared fully into a more energetic felatio than she could ever remember giving. Meanwhile, Marc shuffled down behind her to stroke and prod her pussy, adding another finger with each successive pass. Assured she was once again open and wet, he dove in tongue first, going down on her enthusiastically. Her arousal flared instantaneously.

At some point around this time Maria realized that The Boys had completely lost – or discarded – their gay mannerisms; they were, now, all masculine and totally macho. A wave of disappointment rolled over her for a moment, when the cunnilingus suddenly stopped; then Marc, the consummate cocksman, reared up behind her, and thrust himself in deep – taking her sopping pussy doggie style, so that she was fully spitted. The sensation of double-penetration was overwhelming. It took a bit of rocking and bucking – and gagging, to find a common rhythm in the frenetic activity, still, they eventually set up a beat – fast, hard – Marc, from behind, driving her firmly, deep onto Julian. She was pleased to be able to control her gag reflex enough to actually deep-throat Julian – something, she realized, she had never truly done with Sam. So it goes.

Soon enough, she could feel the erection in her mouth quiver and stiffen, as it responded to her ministrations as well as her rising temperature; for she could feel her own ignition sequence of a further orgasm building – glowing deep in her brain and churning within her genitals, sending tentacles up and down her spine. As her crisis exploded, engulfing her awareness, Julian erupted in her mouth – bringing her, rather abruptly, back to reality. She sputtered and swallowed, managing not to make too much of a scene, or mess; but before Marc could come in her quivering, upturned box, the two buddies switched positions.

As Marc fed her his slimy tool, Julian slid easily into her dripping cunt, and Maria could feel the dissipating climax returning once more from a simmer to a full boil. She was amazed, as she had never before had more than two orgasms in one go.

The Boys were sawing lazily at either end, when one of them – as her focus was still elsewhere, she couldn't be sure who – noted, "We haven't tried anal, yet." Marc touched her cheek and when she raised her eyes, he inquired, "What do you say?"

Well, by that time Maria was pretty much up for anything. Grabbing Marc's schlong and stroking it, she pulled her mouth off and looked up at him. A certain dreaminess crossed her face as she purred, "The last time I took it up the bum – the only time, actually – was in college. Sam's not into that sort of thing."

Finding a tube of KY somewhere, Julian spread it liberally around her rosebud, poking first one, then two, then three fingers into her well-lubed sphincter. The novel sensation raised vague memories in Maria, contributing to the still growing heat, roiling across her fundament. Unhurried, Julian lined himself up. He was rock-hard – firm and rigid. Pressing against her slick rosebud, he popped through, stabbing into her butt effortlessly, inexorably, sliding in deep until his groin hit her buttocks. She was pleasantly surprised that it didn't hurt. It was odd, novel, but it didn't hurt. If he had been even slightly less firm he would have bunched up and blocked his own way, stretching and pulling, tearing at the tender tissues of her rectum – and that would have really hurt. But, as it was, his insertion was steady and smooth, gentle yet thorough, like a thrusted spear.