Mr. Stewart's New Steam Room

I looked over at Mr. Jackson and Nathan. They were stretched against each other, Mr. Jackson still on top of Nathan, probably still inside Nathan. The big black bull covering the slight white body, Mr. Jackson supporting some of his weight on his knees and elbows so as not to crush his student. They were kissing and murmuring to each other. But Mr. Jackson had his head turned toward me. He was watching Mr. Williams fuck me. And when Mr. Williams had come and was withdrawing, and before I could move on the bench, even before I could close my legs, Mr. Jackson had left Nathan and come over and was climbing up on the bench between my thighs.

He lifted me up and turned me over onto my hands and knees—just like how he'd done it with Nathan. His hands were strong. I could feel the power and strength of him. I was psychological cowed by the blackness of him. Forbidden, exhilarating, fantasy territory for me. I was going to be fucked by a black bull. He bulged with muscles. His muscle had muscles. I was putty in his arms. His erection was huge. He was panting hard, whispering, "So nice, so small, so fuckable."

I cried out and my eyes watered as he entered me. But I held steady for him as he fought to get inside me. He couldn't do it; I couldn't open that wide; not yet; not today. But then I could and I did and he was deep inside me. I looked over to where Nathan had been and he was still there, sitting in Mr. Stewart's lap on the lower bench, his back pressed into Mr. Stewart's chest, and his legs draped over Mr. Stewart's spread thighs. Mr. Stewart was gripping Nathan's waist and raising and lowering the boy on his dick. Nathan had a dreamy expression on his face. Mr. Williams was sitting beside them, his hand encasing Nathan's dick and beating him off slowly.

I groaned as Mr. Jackson's huge cock withdrew and then grunted and moaned as it forced its way in again. Out and in. I held, looking down at the ebony hands gripping my wrist, feeling the majesty of him adjusting my passage it to his needs and desires, my passage wall muscles going spastic, gripping and trying to expel the huge shaft at first but then settling down to caressing and rippling over it.

A big, black cock was deep inside me.

I gasped as, fully saddled, Mr. Jackson started fucking me hard. I felt his cheek nuzzling my throat, and I turned my head. We went into a deep kiss, Mr. Jackson invading my mouth with his tongue. Thrust, thrust, thrust. My ears keyed in on the slapping of his balls on my tender thighs.

"So tight. So sweet," he murmured as he released my lips. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Slap, slap, slap.

God, he was huge inside me.

I didn't care. I already was calculating when the next time I could come try out Mr. Stewart's steam room would be—and what I could do with another $500.

I lay there on the bench on my back, moaning, my arm thrown over my eyes after Mr. Jackson had come inside me and withdrawn. The three men were sitting on the bench across the room, laughing, joking with each other, and drinking beer. Nathan, like me, was stretched out on his back on another bench.

Mr. Stewart's voice lifted over the remarks the other two were making. "How about I throw some steaks on the grill and then we fuck 'em again? I paid for all night; we might as well make the most of it."

I moaned.