Sex Swing Satisfaction

I blink. I can't speak. I'm not even sure who I am. I know him, though, as Dan strokes my palm.

After a few minutes, he asks, "How you doing? Ready to get down?"

I'm mentally returning to myself. "I can't persuade you?" The joke's automatic; we had our agreement.

"Another night. Actual Valentine's Day tomorrow, maybe. Gently. In the meantime, you fucking slapper..."

My husband, my Valentine, shuts me up by the effective and traditional method of ramming his cock in my mouth. Blood runs back to my head; he has to pull the headrest down, see, which makes my legs fly up, to get my mouth the right height for him. I nearly choke. That's fine, that's another kink of mine. Practically suffocating, all because I'm so desperate for cock.

I can't deep-throat him like this. I'm talented, not a miracle worker.

Don't need a miracle to make Dan come, though. Only two minutes and my fine fella's filling my mouth, the excess salty jizz coating my face.

When I cough, he drops my legs, and pulls me up to a seated position. "OK?"

I'm past speaking. I've been used for the last couple hours, rocking back and forth as multiple men's stiff penises penetrated my arse. Now I'm breathless, but covered in my husband's juice. The scent of home.

I manage to give him a thumbs-up. Even my face is exhausted to respond.

"Ah. Your eyes are smiling! You rest there, love." He chucks a blanket over me. "God, you look gorgeous! Totally used and trashed, with my cum all over you just to make sure you know whose you are. My Valentine." His lip curls, all possessive for once.

I'll just rock back and forth, soothed by that comforting heartbeat pulsing in my arse. I'm cosy, knackered, don't need to do anything. Life couldn't be better. I lick a smear of Dan's jizz off my lip.

"All our Valentines, surely?" Pete calls out.

"He's my filthy fuck-boy fella," Dan growls back. He's got me bang to rights, there. And using sound words like 'fella' properly. Bless him. I'm as moved as when he said 'I love you' for the first time. Only this time, these words, I believe him immediately.

I'm not even trying to stay awake. I vaguely notice Pete and Paul gathering up their gear, then leaving. I give them a wee wave, setting myself rocking gently back and forth again. After the others have a bit of chat and drinks, Mitchell comes to shake my hand and gives a firm nod, still the quiet and cool man of mystery. Jim does the handshake too, after he's finished giving Dan a manly hug. Good guys. If we ever holiday in Australia, we'll look them up.

Jay's not sure whether to start getting dressed or what. He settles for clean jockeys and awkward lurking. Ricky squeezes his hand. "Um, Dan? You know you said, like, how we could crash here? Save us the night bus back to Croydon?"

"A fate worse than death," Dan agrees. "Sure. No problem. Spare bed there. Only one question..." He leers, a bit tipsy now he doesn't need to be all responsible for me. "Can I get you both in my bed, first?"

Oh, Dan's good. He's running his hands down both lads, making it clear he really wants Ricky, but isn't going to leave Jay out now he's met him. Their bodies look great all together, Dan all pale, pink-tinged, then Ricky in bronze and Jay an almost glossy dark brown. God, I'm gonna prop an eye open so I don't miss this!

I try to turn over, then remember I can't move. I squeak, still not up to words.

Dan comes over with the lads and releases my heavy arms. "Don't fret, love. Let's get you to bed. Get you all cosy under the covers." He grins. "It'll be like having a late-night movie for you to watch!"

It's as well Ricky's there, or I'd have fallen when Dan unbuckled my legs. I'd forgotten -- lying still for a few hours, getting fucked hard, makes you well wobbly. Ricky shows off his rescue skills, the fireman getting me in a fireman's lift. My upper body hangs down his bare back, my face brushing over the man's hot sweaty skin. It's ace. I can just see the top of that wonderful divide down his naked arse. A perfect curve.

Dan and Jay follow us to our bedroom. Ricky drops me, more carefully than I expected, in the centre of the bed. We have a superking-size, for obvious reasons.

I try to roll over to get under the covers, but all my limbs are still too floppy. My hips remind me: I've had several men ramming their cocks in between them, all night.

Just twisting on my arse sets my hole throbbing again. It's almost a buzzing sensation round my opening, where six penises forced my flesh open. Mmm. It feels great, though I definitely need a good night's sleep to start recovery.

Dan rolls the duvet round me like I'm a sausage roll, tugs me to the centre of the bed, then whooshes the duvet out from under me, raising his long arms to the ceiling like a stage magician. He throws it back over me so I'm under rather than on it, then shoves me further to the side. I manage to wriggle so my head's up on the pillows, enjoying my cosy cocoon whilst watching the other guys.

Dan's eyebrows work overtime, making it crystal clear even to suddenly-shy Jay that there's more damn good sex on offer, from him or Ricky, and we'd all love to see it.

Ricky's leadership skills emerge again. "Jay, bro? I'm hittin' the bathroom. You decide if you wants me, or him, or both. And what for! We can stay here or go in the other room. Just you done know I want ya, yeah?" He strokes Jay's cheek, which must be a bit bristly, but it's a sweet gesture that convinces young Jay the man is serious.

The moment Ricky leaves the room, Jay rolls over and looks at us with an agonised expression on his young dark face.

"What's up?" Dan asks.

"He... I still love him, yeah?"

Dan's confused. "That's good, no? He said he wants you!"

"Yeah, but? Man, I... He... We split up when he moved back to his mum's. After the fire, y'know? I let him down! I couldn't help him, couldn't handle it, couldn't look after him, know what I mean?"

"You can't solve everyone's issues, y'know?" Dan attempts to reassure.

I interrupt. "Oi, Jayden!" He glances up at my shout, surprised. "This is more my realm of expertise. Your man's a good man, right? You want to support him, aye?"

"Mm-hm. He's safe," Jay agrees, unsure where this is going.

"Right. Good on ya. But some people -- exhibit A, meself -- need help and support from the professionals. They're beyond a layman." Jay tries to argue.

"No, it can happen to anyone! They don't have to be a fuck-up from the start, like I was. One big event, or lots of small traumas, it messes you up. Having a good partner is great, don't get me wrong, but some things, no partner is enough for. Needs the expert input. And time. Don't forget time. The great fucking healer!" I hate it when clichés are true.

"But some shit, you need that impartial voice who's able to help them, because they're not involved. And that fire, that's the kind of shit I mean. You're human. You ain't super-human! Although..." I let my gaze run up and down his impressive gym-and-martial-artist body, lightening the mood.

I continue, "Like I was saying, he needed others, then. Now, he wants you and reckons he's willing to try. He's not totally fixed -- like anyone ever is! I'm sure not! But if you can be a boyfriend -- god I hate that word -- a good sound fella for him, hug him in the night? Then, if he has a wobble and needs professional help again, your job is to phone up and make that help happen, yeah? Frog-march him there." I glance over at Dan, blushing because he's had to do that twice since I've known him. Dan gives me a wee knowing smile and squeezes my hand.

"Like, you know, if the boiler snuffs it, you don't pile guilt on yourself because you're don't know how to fix it. You ain't qualified to fix it, anyhow. But you do help by getting the plumber in. And keeping him warm until he comes."

"Now, now, no plumber fantasies," Dan murmurs, again helping by taking the seriousness out of the conversation.

I stick my tongue out at him before getting back to my point. "So, if he has night terrors, aye: hold his hand, stroke him, stop him getting out of bed -- unless it's just for a piss. Nightmares, same thing. Wake him up if you need to."

Jay nods, looking less panicked. "Yeah. He says it's only a couple a week, now, and not nearly so bad. Like, I reckon it would be safe to sleep with him again, not get punched in the face? I can defend myself, y'know? Wrap myself in a duvet for protection, if he's worried!"

I guessed right. Common PTSD symptoms. Night terrors are like sleepwalkers, you don't want to wake them up. "Sounds right. You could put padded gloves on him, if necessary. Or separate beds, if you have to."

Jay agrees. "It was the screaming that was the issue, before. It scared the lil' kids next door, we had the dad came round, effing and jeffin'. An' poor Ricks couldn't handle that. He was well shook." Jay screws his face up, confirming he couldn't deal with his lover's screams, then, either. "He thinks he hardly does that, now. All that watchin' special computer games and all seems to have fixed him a lot. He's so much happier since he started back at work. Specially now, now he ain't just doing' paperwork and installing alarms."

"Still vital work. Fitting fire alarms."

"Innit, that's why it helped him that much, but he's trained to do more than that! He's such a good guy, I swear to ya." Jay speaks with conviction, then shuts up as Ricky returns.

"All right, gorgeous? An' other hench guys?" Ricky's amused eye is on Jay. I'm confused, so look to Dan.

"'Hench' is good. What the youth call being well fit, now," he mutters at me. Dan instinctively understands yoof speak. Me, I need to find an updated article on the BBC explaining more Linguistic Features of Multicultural London English.

Jay overhears, and laughs. It's a British and Irish culture thing, not just us using slang and dialects, but playing with them, bamboozling anyone who doesn't take the effort to figure it out. It keeps your mind sharp, living in these islands.

Ricky climbs onto the bed. The way he's looking at Jay, shark-like, there's going to be some fine fucking in their futures! Jay grins back, wrinkling up his burgundy lip in a knowing way. "Whaddya want, bruv?" Jay's pout somehow looks extra dirty over his wee goatee, raised eyebrows showing off the bright whites of his eyes.

That possessive face on Ricky couldn't be more clear, so I don't need to puzzle out what his reply, "Ak, set me some that buff ass ting!" means. He blatantly wants Jay. Jay's arse? Who wouldn't! I assume he's fetching his preferred condoms or lube out of their bag, but no; it's a purple piece of cloth. Ricky hands it to Jay, folds his arms, and waits, smug and challenging.

Jay's kinda blushing. Definitely some reddening of that deep brown face. He folds the silky cloth and holds it to his forehead. The royal purple suits him. If he continues making some sort of turban out of it, he'll look like a devilish pirate. A kink?

I look at Dan for some insight into young lads' sexual practices. Dan shakes his head. He tells me, as Jay constructs a complex bandana, "I know some black guys protect their hair with head wraps at night. Stop hair scraping on cotton pillowcases and that." Pause. "Hey! You aren't falling asleep on us, not yet?" He's outraged at the idea.

Jay stifles a grin as he silently continues his skilled folding. The bright jewel-toned silk over his head looks fabulous. More a pasha than a pirate? Who cares?

Ricky laughs. "White man's nearly got it," he goes to Jay, all conspiratorial. I have a think.

Ah! If Jay's preparing to protect his wee spikes of hair, but not going to sleep, I can make an educated guess as to how Jay's head will end up scrubbing back and forth on a pillow... Oh, yeah. That'll look grand!

My face makes it clear I've understood, especially when Jay goes even deeper maroon, his dark skin failing to hide the blush completely. Ricky's delighted. He gets between Jay's legs, waving his hand to make the man shuffle higher up the bed.

"Yeah, man. It's a sign, to him. My guy, he so vain! 'Don't mess wi' the hair!'. So. If he need a durag to keep his locs in style, it clear. My man is going to get fucking railed!"

I can't wait to see Ricky railing into Jay... I hadn't really expected that he'd be versatile too. Now he's letting Ricky lead, Jay's hot stylish face softens, his hard man looks becoming really rather pretty.

He'd probably hate to be called that in public! The man must devote hours a week to maintaining that muscle and being the epitome of Modern London Masculinity. You could argue that Ricky's more a typical young Londoner, being mixed-race like half of the kids in south London, from here to Croydon, but Ricky's shorter and doesn't have that bearing of looking all alpha. Not until our fireman knows what he's doing and pulls on his leader persona. Rest of the time, Ricky seems more laid back. Quietly confident. He's probably learned from his therapy how to chill, like I did.

I suspect Jay's normally more on the alert -- wise, I guess, he'd want to avoid getting mixed up in any beef between gangs, given members so often look like the pair of them -- but right now, Ricky's gonna make him give in and force him to relax.

Jay's strong male face, going suddenly awkwardly soft and loving, is adorable. Wanting Ricky, not just his cock. Probably how I looked when I finally realised I cared for Dan, and couldn't just tell myself he was a repeated one-night stand. Not that I've ever been tall nor built like Jay is.

"Do it," Jay begs Ricky. Ricky knows he's made it in life. Or rather, re-made, if he can get this guy back and keep him. Ricky shifts forward, filthy leer back on his face.

Jayden the tough man is gonna get speared. Like the nanciest faggot in the world. And he'll love it.

Jay raises his knees and thighs, exposing the broadest expanse of hamstrings I've seen in ages. He's slightly shy, parting his legs and glancing over at me and Dan over all his beautiful firm flesh. Good. That's all part of the charm of fucking with an audience. He knows he's being gazed at, and wanked over, with me and (I'm sure) Dan admiring his alluring dark skin and how his muscular body moves underneath Ricky's bronze version.

I know he knows, because earlier it was me, being the sex object being watched. And so many other times. Objectification don't have to be a bad thing.

"You not slept with a black guy before, then?" Ricky asks me, leaning forward, hanging onto Jay's knees on each side of him. He's starting to rub against Jay's meat and two veg, above Jay's reticent dry hole. I immediately correct him.

"God, I've had black guys! Asian guys, Arab guys, you name it, if they've come to London, I've had them! I must have had... maybe, a few dozen black cocks in my mouth?" I don't know if Ricky trusts I'm saying the truth, which I am, but his cock stiffens at the idea. "But sleeping? Guys coming home wi' me? Never did much of that, not with anyone."

"You're in the lucky one per cent," Dan giggles, now drunk on Jay's shoulder, kissing down to the man's perfect pecs and cute black nipple. "Usually Ade just leaves his conquests in the club or pub where he found them."

"Conquests?" I snort. "I just open me legs and let them at! Let them conquer me!"

Dan doesn't want Ricky distracted. "Shush! Let Ricks conquer his boy, eh?"

"Who you callin' bwoy?" Any aggression in Jay's tone is erased by his cute wee moans. Ricky's as competent at sex as he is at work. He efficiently strokes Jay's cock in one hand and forces lube into the guy's hole with the other.

"I'm more than ten years older'n you," Dan purrs at Jay, undeterred. "I can teach ya, just like he taught me..." I'm creasing myself, watching Dan trying drunken seduction, reversing our usual roles.

Being honest, Jay's got competent cock-sucking down already, but I'm sure Dan could think of something to teach him! How to flutter his eyelashes so I feel even more of a dirty old man, maybe? Being a dirty old man, I wriggle down the bed to get a better view of Ricky's cock, as he carefully lines it up to force into Jay.

Beautiful young men fucking. It never gets old.

I ain't young any more, but I was never a hot muscular hunk anyway. Just a shrimp with blue eyes and a willingness to open my mouth and drop my pants for anyone. These two, now, both gorgeous, wanting each other, is a real rare treat.

The more of a strong male stereotype they look like, the hotter it is when the man admits he wants to just lie back and get taken six ways to Sunday, another man hammering his arse until he screams...

Jay growls, more than screams. It's just as good. Our big fella stops caring what he looks like -- not me being judgy, Ricky called him vain -- and lets himself be properly used, curling his hips up.

Dan looks envious of Jay's six-pack. Dan's got the build of a lean runner, is all. And ten years on him. They're both still hot in their own different ways, as is young Ricky, pressing his lips together in concentration, thrusting those firm buttocks of his to piston his cock inside Jay's welcoming arse.

Jay makes a throaty noise. Dan can't resist. My fella flips round so his pink cock is over Jay's mouth.

Some blinking, and yes, Jay's doing the honours, sucking the end of my man's cock like he's possessed, grunting as he tries to keep it in his mouth rather than being scrubbed by the bristly curls on his chin. Ricky doesn't let Jay wriggle, holding him tight in perfect fuckable position.

God, they're great. I don't need to renew the porn subscription! I lower one hand to slide it over my dick. Then I figure, if Jay's liking taking it like I do, then he might feel like I would, his cock all neglected, poor sod. So I scrape myself over. Just turning, and feeling the duvet on my arse, feels like getting fisted again! But I manage to extract my hand from under the covers and sneak it over to Jay's neglected cock.

His thick charcoal-coloured shaft with my thin oatmeal-white fingers round it. It's like a Mapplethorpe photograph, an artist I've always loved for his stark black-and-white images. I grip the smoothness, while rough wires scrape my knuckles. Near the pillows there's Dan's shaved head with short beard, next to Jay's covered scalp and small goatee. Two images, near identical, one light, one dark. At some point I should take a photo for Dan to redraw, making it into art. Just 'cos I'm shit with a camera. The vision of Dan on Jay is art already.

Jay bucks upwards with a yell. He's being driven wild by Ricky in his arse. And again, and again. I'm not squeezing him, just hanging on. Ricky growls back at him, his pleasant baritone deepening when he spits out crude possessive phrases.

Someone else might snarl, 'Take it, ya batty boy, ya fag,' as a harsh insult. From Ricky to Jayden, it's love. Love for each other and their gay blackness, revelling in how their appearance and backgrounds make them even more queer. Jay's vivid purple head wrap slips a bit, making him look even more like a debauched Pirate King on my pillows. Add some mascara to those beautiful eyes, and he'd rival Anthony Stewart Head for the role in Penzance.

Of course, Dan's cock over his face proves just how into the filth and debauchery they both are. Dan comes weakly, dribbling over Jay's chin. Ricky groans and collapses on his mate, my hand squashed under the fireman and suddenly sticky, so I guess that's orgasms all round. I'm not jealous; I'm done for the night. Dan kisses and slurps Jay's wee beard clean, so I guess that hair is OK to touch! I spot a nasty ingrown hair under the beard, which may be why he grew it in the first place. Makes me nastily happy, that he isn't a completely perfect physical specimen.