Just A Little Gangbang

Fair Warning: For this Loving Wife there's no cheating, no real cucking and no burning, but there is plenty of fun, consensual sharing.

If you don't mind that in your LW stories, please read on and I hope you enjoy this one. But the second Fair Warning is that it does take a long time to get to the real action. [Chapter 6, some 7,000 words in].

That's also how long it takes for this to dare to offer itself as a Pink Orchid story. But I hope that when the Loving Wife does make her entrance, that she shows herself to be "in control of [her] own pleasure and passion," as needed for this story event. Kudos to event creator and organizer Omenainen for bringing the Pink Orchid to bloom.

JUST A LITTLE GANGBANG

Chapter 1

Mike Sharpe chose mango for today's post-workout protein smoothie at his gym's juice and coffee bar. He'd usually sit here and enjoy this as breakfast with a black coffee, continuing the relaxation of the 15 minutes he'd spent in the sauna after another vigorous mix of lifting and cardio. But as he looked around the seating area while waiting for the barista to whip up his order, he saw that the creep he'd caught checking him out in the locker room over the past few weeks was looking at him again.

Mike didn't like being made to feel uncomfortable in a place he considered a haven from an often crazy world, but he also wasn't into overblown confrontation and drama. He decided that today he'd just take his drinks with him and sip them as he walked the four blocks east to his office. The weather even seemed nice enough that he might detour one block south and sit in the small park along that route.

After paying for his order, Mike headed for the door, which unfortunately meant he had to pass right by the table where the creepy guy was sitting with another dude Mike recognized as a semi-regular gym patron. It struck him that while he'd seen both men in the gym at various times over the past several months, he'd only noticed them hanging out together in the past few weeks. Kind of when he'd noticed the first guy seemingly sneaking glances at him, especially in the showers.

Mike kept his eyes straight ahead, locked on the exit door, determined not to make too much of something that really might be no more than someone admiring his good condition. He'd been getting a lot more of that kind of attention since he'd gotten so serious about his workouts in the past year and he was still adjusting to the admiring glances. It could just be that the guy had noticed Mike's impressive gains and wanted to ask for tips.

That conscious effort to be calm and not jump to conclusions collapsed when the dude got to his feet as Mike approached and said, "Hi, Mike, I'm Brandon. Would you like to join us?"

Sharpe wheeled on the man, just managing to bite back the first harsh words that came to mind. Instead, he lowered his voice and said as calmly as he could, "Listen, I'm no homophobe, I don't care what people do together." His gaze shifted slightly downwards to take in the second guy seated at the table. Then, looking back straight into the first man's eyes, "But it is really not cool to check out other guys' packages in the locker room. I'm not interested, so please stop."

The standing dude's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open a bit, before he snapped it shut, clearly flustered. Mike was satisfied with the response. At least until the seated man put his hand over his mouth to stifle a chortle. That apparently triggered something in the first guy, who suddenly compressed his lips as if trying to stop from smiling. Sharpe looked from one to the other, unsure how to respond. Bitch slap the creep or just walk out? He had a drink in each hand, so he opted for the second and began turning back toward the door.

"No, please wait a second," the standing guy said in a rush. "I'm...we're not interested in that either. I didn't realize I'd been creeping you out, man, I'm sorry."

"Actually, he kind of creeped me out at the start too," the seated man said with some kind of smooth Southern accent. "Until I listened to what he had to say."

Mike stood frozen; body quarter-turned away, but eyes looking back at the two men.

"And that's all I'm asking of you," the creepy guy said sincerely. "Just sit down and drink your coffee with us and talk a little." In the slight pause that followed, Mike leaned another degree toward the door. "Like I said," the guy blurted out in an effort to keep his attention, "I'm Brandon and this is Jean Pierre."

"New Orleans," said the seated guy in explanation. "Most people just call me J.P."

Sharpe took a moment to check out the two men. The creepy guy, Brandon, wasn't really all that creepy looking. He was maybe two inches shorter than Mike's 5' 10", but a good 30 to 40 pounds lighter. While Mike hadn't been scoping him out the same way in the locker room, he knew the guy was slender with what he'd call a runner's body. His hair and eyes were black, emphasizing the slight Asian cast to his handsome features. Mike figured he was probably half or maybe a quarter Japanese or Korean or something.

The seated guy was also mixed race, but in this case Mike would have guessed predominantly Black, with half to a quarter White. He also seemed the oldest of the three. Maybe 30 years old compared to Mike's 24. He pegged Brandon at somewhere in between. The Black guy was also the tallest, by about two inches, and the heaviest. However, while Mike outweighed Brandon due to his well-developed muscles, J.P. was carrying 20 pounds too much body fat. He carried it well now in his street clothes, but the paunch and love handles were there underneath.

"How about it, Mike? Have a seat?" said Brandon.

Jean Pierre noticed the tightening of the buff White dude's face and laughed. "You're creeping him out again, man."

Brandon looked over his shoulder at J.P. and then back to Mike, clearly perplexed.

"You keep using his name, but he never gave it to you, did he?" Jean Pierre had a good eye and ear for such nuances.

"No, I didn't," Mike agreed in a flat voice.

"Oh, shit! I just heard it around over time; really, that's all," Brandon said in an almost desperate tone. "Fuck. Yes, I wanted to meet you, but I'm really not a stalker, I promise."

"Hmm," mused J.P. "I'm not so sure about that." Then he laughed again and said to Mike, "What I can say, is that it'll be a very interesting ten minutes if you decide to sit and drink that coffee with us before it gets cold."

The idea of his coffee getting cold reminded Mike that he was supposed to be heading in to work. "Ten minutes," he said as he put his drinks down on the table and pulled out a chair. "Then I have to get to work." He locked eyes with Brandon as the two men sat and said, "And you promise to stop eyeballing me in the shower."

A hint of color rose in the slender man's high-boned cheeks and he nodded. Mike nodded back, then swirled his protein shake around and took a long pull through the straw.

"So, Mike...um, is it okay if I call you Mike now?" Brandon asked. Mike gave a nod.

"Well, I started coming here about nine months ago, so I expect you've seen me around even though we've never really met?" Another nod and another pull on the straw.

"And, I gotta say, props to you, man. I mean, just in that time I've seen you really getting bigger and ripped. It's like you really got dedicated, eh?"

So, this was all about getting workout tips, Mike thought as he took a sip of coffee. "Yeah, that's about it," he agreed out loud. "I started a new job last year that comes with a membership here as a perk and I decided to make the most of it. I'm sure you've also noticed that I still mostly prefer to work out alone. But if you want to hear some of the diet and exercise steps I've followed to make my gains, I can share that with you."

"Hell," broke in J.P., "I'll take those tips. My doctor says I really need to drop some of the lard off my ass or I'm going to end up with diabetes and heart disease like my old man." He realized he'd put a cloud over the table and quickly followed up with a light-hearted, "And I'm sure not going to do it by running a hundred fucking miles a week like this skinny motherfucker."

"Hmm," said Brandon, considering Mike's offer. "I hadn't really thought about it, but my wife has said I could use some more meat on my bones. Maybe I should try some more of the kind of lifting I see you doing."

'Hadn't really thought about it?' Mike mused to himself. Then what the hell have you been thinking about while scoping me out?

Brandon apparently read the question in Mike's face and continued. "So, you're probably wondering what I wanted to talk to you about if it wasn't fitness tips." A pause while he tried to get his words right. Then, haltingly, "Well, I suppose your fitness actually is part of it..."

Mike not so subtly looked at his wristwatch as he took his next sip of coffee.

The next words came out of Brandon in a rush. "And actually, since I was just mentioning my wife, it's really about her too. Her and fitness--"

"And more meat on the bone," chuckled J.P.

Brandon colored again as he looked at the Black guy. Then he half-smiled and nodded his head before turning back to Mike. "Yeah. More meat on the bone for my wife."

Mike's eyes bounced back and forth suspiciously between the two men.

Brandon's cell phone was on the table and he flipped open its cover and tapped the screen a few times. Spinning it around, he slid it across the table toward Mike and said in a lowered voice, "I'm recruiting guys for a gangbang. For my wife." Guys with the right kind of meat on the bone, he didn't say out loud.

Mike's eyes were wide as he stared into Brandon's, trying to figure out if he was being punked or what. The smaller man just nodded down at the phone. Mike bent his head and saw that Brandon had brought a photo up on the screen. It was a POV shot looking down at a red-haired White woman on her knees. She was staring up at the camera with elfin features, including a twinkle in her eyes. She also had a cock in her mouth. Well, Mike couldn't actually see the cock, but he presumed it was there since he was seeing a man's naked lower belly and a thatch of pubic hair. The woman's lips were buried in the thatch. Which meant that the attached cock was buried in her throat.

He said nothing, just stared and swallowed. Brandon's hand moved into his field of view and swiped the photo to the side. The next one was clearly taken soon after the first. The woman remained on her knees looking up, but the man was gone. Her mouth was open wide, clearly displaying the load of cum the deep-throater had deposited. Clearly and happily, Mike thought. Even with her mouth gaping she looked like she was smiling broadly and the twinkle in those bright green eyes was dazzling. This woman was clearly enjoying herself and that, as much as the raw shock of the image, made Mike's joint jump. His biggest turn-on was women who really enjoyed their sex.

Slowly he lifted his head, but looked at his coffee cup instead of his table companions. Still slowly, he brought the cup to his lips and sipped. Finally, he raised his narrowed eyes to Brandon's.

"All real, all true, all serious," the thin man said.

Mike shifted his gaze to Jean Pierre.

"He's convinced me," the large man said with a smile. "I'm in."

"Your wife?" Mike asked Brandon.

"Married four years now."

"And you're, what, swingers?"

"Well, no. At least not yet. This would actually be the first time we've ever done anything like this."

"So, that's you in the first photo, not another of her, um, lovers?"

"Oh yeah, that's me," the man grinned as he closed the cover on the phone and pulled it back.

"And your wife had you take those pictures to show around and try to recruit...?"

"Well, not exactly," replied Brandon. "You could say, in theory she did."

"In theory?"

"Those photos are just part of our regular collection. As you could probably tell, Shannon's a very sexual creature and a bit of an exhibitionist. She kind of gets off on being photographed or filmed doing things."

"And she looks great doing it," chimed in J.P. "Wait till you see some of the other pics."

Mike's left eyebrow went up as he considered how many pornographic pictures of his wife Brandon had shared with another guy who had probably also been a stranger just a few weeks ago. Freak or Idiot? he wondered.

Now Brandon was looking at him a bit more intently. "There are many more and I'll show them to you too. If. If you say you have any interest in taking part. You don't have to say 'yes' right now, but I have to know if you have any interest at all before I tell or show you any more. If not, we'll just part ways and remain anonymous gym mates."

Mike took another sip of his coffee. Thinking.

Brandon smiled. "And you don't even have to say that much right now. I know this has been a hell of a surprise to have dropped on you so early in the morning. Go ahead on to work and think about it today. I'll be here tomorrow morning and if you're interested you'll come and sit with us. If not...no harm, no foul. Sound okay?"

Mike got to his feet. He'd forgotten about work, but would have to walk quickly to avoid being late for the morning meeting. He still couldn't think of what to say, so he just nodded, picked up his half-finished protein drink and turned toward the door.

"See you tomorrow," said J.P. in a chuckling baritone.

Chapter 2

Mike made the morning meeting on time. At least in body. In mind and spirit, he kept going back to the earlier meeting at the gym. Was Brandon for real? Was he really trying to set up a gangbang for his wife and wanted Mike to take part? And those photos! Was that really his wife? Yes or no, she was gorgeous. He loved those little fairy-types with the delicate features. He could easily imagine finding pointed ears under the auburn hair. Lovely and hot. Of course, in Mike's limited and somewhat sad experience, any woman could fake out any man, but damned if she hadn't looked extremely pleased to have a cock down her throat and then a mouthful of cum. Extremely.

And why would this Brandon guy fuck with him this way? Mike suddenly imagined seeing himself on YouTube, slathering like an idiot over Brandon's "wife", only to find out it was all a prank to see how many men would fall for it. But that seemed too extreme a gag to try and pull, especially on complete strangers. And where did Jean Pierre fit in? He knew he'd seen both guys for months at the gym, but always separate until the last month or so.

On the other hand, what if it was real? Gangbangs were always high on the list when Mike was surfing pornsites. And he did prefer the ones that claimed to be real amateurs. The production values could be crap, but the actors looked like real people, doing it as much for the excitement and pleasure as for any possible money. What if his own wife or girlfriend wanted to try it, how would he go about finding the extra guys to fulfill her fantasy? Maybe scoping out the prospective extras in their all-together as Brandon had, would be a good way to know what you were getting. He knew objectively that he was a decent looking guy in really good shape, but he still had a hard time picturing himself as the kind of man that would be sought out for something like this.

All day and all evening Mike kept playing mental tennis with the idea. His skeptical-self kept serving up strong, sensible reasons against; trying to put it away. His 24-year-old horndog-self repeatedly returned the ball, keeping it in play with just a few basic strokes.

1. You know you'd like to be part of a gangbang at least once.
2. If the pictures are real and accurate, you'd fuck the redhead in a heartbeat under any other circumstances.
3. When will you ever have another opportunity like this?

That night as he lay in bed, surfing on his 42-inch smart-TV hanging on the opposite wall, he found himself typing 'redhead wife gangbang' into the search bar. There were many good selections to choose from and he ended up with four playing simultaneously in each quarter of the screen. He usually finished in a hand towel, but tonight he just let fly across his naked body. He came so hard that the longest spurt hit his own mouth. The rest he smeared across his chest and belly and let it dry there as he drifted off to visions of red-headed sugar plum fairies dancing in his head. Naked fairies dancing from cock to cock.

Chapter 3

Thursday morning, Mike skipped the sauna and showered and dressed right after his workout. This had him at the smoothie counter a good twenty minutes earlier than the day before, but he saw that Brandon and J.P. were already seated with coffee cups in front of them. Today, however, they'd taken a table as far away from the counter as possible. They were clearly going for more privacy and it was working. All three of the tables closest to them were empty.

Mike paid for his protein shake and Americano and made his way through the tables to the far corner. He saw Jean Pierre had a bit of a smug, 'I told you so,' smile on his face. But there didn't seem to be any malice behind it. Brandon just seemed happy and maybe a bit relieved. It struck Mike that this was probably a pretty hard thing for the guy to do. That suddenly gave him his first question.

"I'm going to start off assuming this is all legit," he said as he took a chair. Brandon began to respond, but Mike held up a hand and carried on. "How long have you been recruiting? How many guys have you asked and how many said no before you got down to strangers in a gym?"

"Well, actually, none," said Brandon. "Have said no," he added in clarification. "At least not yet."

Mike had picked up his coffee after asking his questions, but the cup didn't make it to his lips as he took in Brandon's reply.

The thin man continued. "That's the answer to your last question. As far as how long I've been recruiting, I only asked J.P. about two weeks ago." Here he turned to look at the tall man, who nodded in agreement. "And he was the first. You're the second. And if you say yes, you'll be the last."

Mike realized his eyes had widened at all this; he knew he didn't have much of a poker face. But he couldn't help it, each answer had been a surprise. He made himself take a long pull on the straw of his smoothie, followed by a short sip of coffee.

Brandon took Mike's silence as a 'tell me more' tactic and carried on. "In fact, after J.P. said yes, I thought about stopping right there. I know Shannon has a gangbang fantasy, but I thought that maybe just a threesome would be a good starting point for our first time. You know, easier for both of us to handle. And we could always add more later if we both liked it and wanted to do it again."

Shannon, thought Mike. He'd thought she'd had an Irish name, but he couldn't remember it after the shock of seeing her photos and hearing her husband's proposition. Shannon. Yes, it suited her coloring.

"But I told him that if he was going to take this chance, that he might as well go for the real thing," chimed in Jean Pierre. "And it didn't have to be five or ten guys to count. If two guys make a threesome, then anything more than two qualifies as a gangbang."

"Is that what the sextionary says?" asked Mike in his first moment of feeling light-hearted since this whole bizarre situation began.