Peter's Dark Odessey Pt. 01

Peter's Dark Odessey Pt. 01

When our company dissolved over a series of financial scandals, Jacinta, Peter and I tried to hold our threesome together. Still, since we were no longer working together, the glue that bonded us quickly dissolved. There were several heroic last stands, but ultimately we all went our separate ways.

Peter was the annoying puppy that hung around long after the hints were given. He seemed to know when I was weakest and exploited me when I should have known better. After each encounter, I felt a ton of guilt and shame for indulging his extra-marital needs.

Yes, Peter was married to a beautiful and vivacious woman who had bared him, several children. However, Peter had an appetite that could not be satisfied at home, and he frequently searched for kinks that took him to some seedy parts of Perth. He was almost outed at one point, but the near-death of his marriage only suppressed his desires.

That suppression could not be contained for long.

Within days, Peter went in search of the next sexual high. I would receive text messages detailing his new 'discoveries' and gauging my interest in partaking. My replies were firmly negative. Occasionally, I received a proposition, usually late on a Friday or Saturday night, and, due to my alcohol intake, I would usually assent. Peter and I met in the park between the pub and my house, where I would receive a guilt-ridden but, at the time, enormously pleasing blow job. Peter would gleefully swallow my load before disappearing into the night for additional antics or to go home.

I did suck his cock several times, but generally, he preferred to be an unashamed bottom that loved to serve. Jacinta and I once fisted his arsehole, which was fun, and I had regularly dropped a load inside him when we played solo. However, it never seemed enough to satiate Peter's middle-aged lust.

Some of the more outrageous examples of his search for lust convinced me that he was not long for this world. He began snorting poppers and visiting massage parlours in the city's most obscure and out-of-the-way suburbs that seemed neither safe nor sensual, but he kept trying to tempt me.

One night, after such an intense barrage of text messages, I relented and agreed to meet him.

"What's the gig?" I tapped.

"I'm meeting up with two black guys and was wondering if you wanted to film us?"

Where Peter was concerned, it was good to be sceptical about his motives. He had previously told me about similar encounters and how I would enjoy them. However, I always demurred because Peter was fond of tall stories.

This evening, he peppered my message thread with photos of a previous encounter that intrigued me. For one, the black guys were from Africa and not indigenous, and two, while they were buff, their cocks appeared average. I guess the top one per cent makes it into porno.

Seeing photos of Peter being thoroughly used by these guys, with a gaping butthole and ropes of cum dripping down his face, causing a rise that intrigued me.

"What happened to the person that took these photos?"

"Can't make it," Peter replied, "That's why I want you."

I knew this was a bad idea, but I could not resist. Seeing my previous fuck toy used in such a slutty way overcame my self-control.

"Okay, where and when?"

"Oat Street Station car park at 11 pm?"

Looking at my watch, I had half an hour to arrive but reckoned I could do it. I finished my beer and quickly made my way to the train station. There were only two stops, and I arrived with about five minutes to spare.

Oat Street Station is a notorious stop on the train line, known locally for turf wars, violence and general debauchery. Peter knew his target to a tee.

"Psst, over here,"

I strained my eyes and saw the familiar shadowy figure lurking in a clump of trees at the far end of the station car park.

"What's happening?" I asked Peter, who attempted to kiss me.

"Just waiting for the guys," He replied, squeezing his crotch in anticipation, "Here's the camera."

"Are these the same guys?" I asked, turning on the camera and becoming familiar with its operation.

"Yeah, they are the real deal," Peter panted, "I can only do them once a week."

Peter was visibly shaking, scanning the roads for any sign of their impending arrival.

"They must scratch one of your many itches," I snickered.

"I've never been so satisfied," Peter replied before thinking for a second, "No offence, Jason."

"None taken," I said, "Whatever floats your boat."

"These two do."

Suddenly a car swung into the station car park and pulled up beside us. Cursory introductions were made, and we were invited into the car.

"Don't worry," Peter assured me, "We're going to a quiet place."

I was not worried in the slightest. The two Somalians seemed warm and friendly, not my type, but I was not here to get involved in the action, to record the evening's antics.

Minutes later, we pulled up behind an industrial facility which I recognised and mentally noted for future outdoor activities. The location was well-chosen because it was completely private, and there was no chance of discovery.

"Okay, white boy," Said one of the fellows, "On your knees."

The black guys left the headlights on so that I would have sufficient light to film the night's proceedings. I must admit that my heart was racing, my skin prickled with sweat, and my mouth went dry.

Peter dropped down while the guys unzipped their jeans. Both black cocks were limp and not very impressive in length or girth. My opinion on this did not differ after Peter had blown them to total hardness.

Both guys evidently enjoyed Peter's technique, for their heads were craned backwards, and they constantly moaned in satisfaction. Both black cocks slid effortlessly down Peter's throat, and he was happiest when a hand on the back of his head forced another millimetre of man meat, causing him to gag.

Filming this and witnessing this depravity up front was exceptionally arousing for me. It was fascinating, and I was so enthralled that I offered no direction and let the three actors dictate the story.

Quickly the black guys emptied a load across and on Peter's face. What spilt into his mouth was greedily gulped down, much to his enjoyment.

"That was a fucking great scene, guys," I complimented the trio, "I captured the hottest action."

The trio were spent, but not for long, I thought. They broke out some Mary Jane and puffed heartily while conversing about innocuous shit in low murmurs.

"I'm ready for this little white faggot to please me," said one after maybe a fifteen-minute interlude.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a piece of ass," said the other.

A run-of-the-mill spit roast event followed, with the black guys taking turns on Peter's arse and mouth. There was so much more that he was capable of.

"Why don't you DP him?" I asked as the frustration was boiling up inside me.

"Huh?" Asked one of the black me whose cock was deep in Peter's shitter, "He can't do that!"

"He can," I hissed, clenching a fist, "He's taken this!"

"No way, white boy," came the reply, "Prove it."

He took the camera from me while I knelt beside Peter's prone form, draped over the car bonnet. I asked the other black guy, who was intrigued, to spread Peter's check apart. I grabbed the tube of personal lubrication and squeezed an overly generous amount across Peter's buggered hole.

I was at a fever pitch and dispensed with any niceties before forcefully penetrating Peter's dirty opening with my fingers.

"You like that, slut?" I repeatedly asked as I worked my digits inside.

Both black guys gasped in amazement as slowly, but surely Peter's arse begrudgingly yielded to my fist.

"Shit!" Came a gasping response from Peter as, with a pop, my fist was swallowed to the wrist.

"This is how you use Peter," I sneered at the camera that was pointed in my face.

For several minutes, I fist fucked Peter's dirt box with reckless abandon. He was in heaven: moaning, searing and purring.

"Wank my cock," he pleaded.

"Wow, you are so hard!" I marvelled after taking his cock with my spare hand.

By this time, both black guys were crouched beside me, their eyes fixated on the action, stroking their unimpressive cocks.

"Shit!" Exclaimed Peter suddenly as his body tensed up, " I'm coming."

Sure enough, his body jerked and spurting ropes of hot come splashed across the car bonnet, raining down and pooling on the gravel dirt.

"You see, gentleman," I said, gingerly removing my slime-covered hand from Peter's twitching anus, "That's how little this cissy can take."

"Alright!" The black tops crowed in delight.

Taking back the camera, I told the dudes to double-anal Peter, who was so off with the fairies that I doubt he even heard the order. He willingly complied by completely disrobing despite the coolness of the evening air. I noted that Peter's cock had not fully deflated despite a banging orgasm moments earlier.

Quickly regaining his senses, Peter straddled the black guy on the dirt in front of the car and eased his black cock inside his fisted fuck hole. For several minutes, Peter bobbed up and down while sucking the second black guy's cock.

"Stick your cock in his arse," I said, weary of the conventional gay action sequence.

The second black guy pulled his cock from Peter's wet mouth and reached for the tube of lubricant. After administering a healthy dose of grease to his hard cock, he knelt and positioned the head of his dark cock against Peter's taint.

"You ready, white boy?"

With his anus already full of black cock, I doubt Peter was capable of consent, but there was the faintest of nods, and the second cock pressed against the first. It was hardly conceivable that Peter could take it, but slowly he managed it.

"Fuck, I'm so full!" He hissed as the second slab of meat stretched his hole to breaking point.

"Man, there's not a lot of room down there," said one of the black guys.

"Feels weird rubbing against your cock, bro," said the other.

I did my best with the camera, borrowing gonzo techniques I had learned from the world's best Ron sites, and I captured some great action that made me want to bust my nut.

Peter was in his depraved element being buggered by two black guys with underwhelming cocks, but seeing him DP'd was spectacular.

It was not long before both black guys inseminated Peter, coming hard while buried deep inside his suffering anus.

Before pulling out, the top guy shared a passionate kiss with Peter. They had done it before; that was obvious.

Peter rose on his shaky legs, turned around, and pulled his cheeks apart. Volumous tendrils of sperm oozed out of his pink arsehole and down the insides of his legs. His creampie exhibitionism was something the three of them had enjoyed previously.

"Look at that, man," One guy said to the other, "That's a crowd pleaser."

While the two Sudanese men high-fived, I noticed they were utterly spent and satisfied, but what happened next surprised me.

Both gently laid Peter on the car bonnet and began sucking his raging cock with such love and reverence that when he came, quickly, they drank down his hot man seed eagerly.

"You want something?" One of the black guys asked me as he wiped his mouth.

"Another time, perhaps," I replied despite needing desperately to orgasm.

"Till next week, white boys", The guys said after dressing and driving off, leaving us at this industrial location perhaps a kilometre from the station.

"You okay?" I asked Peter as he dressed, half in an erotic daze.

"I feel terrific," he said, buckling his belt, "it may take more than a week to recover from this, though."

"Yeah, you took a good pounding," I acknowledged, "But when is going to be enough for you?"

"I don't know," Peter replied, stumbling as we walked back to the train station, "That was close, though."

"You're a lost cause, man," I said, "Don't risk your marriage over this shit."

Peter went silent, and I thought I had offended him. If I had, I did not care. His antics would have a hefty price tag in the future if all this were blown open.

"I'm surprised you did not get in on the action." He said as we waited for a train.

"It was tempting, but I was happy to record the action this time."

"I'm happy to finish you off now if you like," replied Peter, noting the ten-minute wait time for the next train.

"All good, thanks," I said, "I'll save myself for next week."

"So, you want to get involved?"

"Let's just say I have some ideas".

We jumped on the train and exited at our usual stations. As I walked home, my mind raced with ideas, and my two-hour hard-on had not abated. While I had surrendered custody of the camera, the images I had recorded were burnt into my mind. I intended to relieve my balls in the morning over a challenge I had formulated for these two Sudanese guys.