The Piano Tuner

We watched the start of the race from the last turn, inside the paddock, then crossed over the bridge and hiked around the track so I could take photographs. Around 2 pm, having eaten nothing but protein bars all day, we sat on one of the berms in the esses. I'd found it hard to concentrate all day. All I wanted was to return to the motel room and have Trey slide his lubricated cock inside me again. I would be ready for him this time. I wanted to receive his load. I wanted to be, just as my wife had been on so many occasions, his woman.

I took a chance. I touched his arm. It was cool but the cloudless sun was warm.

Want to go? I asked.

Leave?

Yeah.

He shrugged. It's up to you.

I took a chance that he'd get my drift. I want to go back to the motel room. Y'know?

Let's go then.

As we approached downtown buttfuck, thirty minutes later, Trey pointed ahead and told me to pull off. It was a sex shop. Five motels, four gas stations, three restaurants...but they had a roadside sex shop.

Trey emerged carrying something in an opaque black plastic bag. We drove to the nearby motel. Thank god, it was warmer than yesterday.

Trey tossed the sex-shop bag on the bed—my bed—and said, Shower first, then put on what I bought you. I'll be out in a minute.

More like 30. In the black sack was a black bra, a matching black G-string, and black scalloped thigh-highs. The bra was like a girl's A-cup bikini top. It tied behind the neck. The G-string barely contained my semi-hard penis. In fact it didn't. The thigh-highs, stretched to full length, barely reached a few inches above my knees.

When Trey emerged I, attired in the girly outfit he'd bought for me, instinctively rolled onto my knees.

No, I want you on your back first, he said. I wanna fuck you the way I fuck your wife. Or your daughter. First on your back, then on your submissive knees. You look sexy. Wish I'd bought you a wig...

The tube of K-Y had been left on the night table, between the two beds. I wondered what the female Indian maid had wondered when she entered: two guys in the room, a tube of lubricant...On the other hand, what should I care?

I raised my stockinged legs as Trey climbed between them. I wrapped them around his back as he once again penetrated me. This time it was much easier. I was still opened up from the previous afternoon. He sank his cock deep in me and rammed me harder and deeper than he had at first done yesterday. Once again, giving in to the incomparable pleasure, I moaned with each thrust. After what must've been 15 minutes he rolled me onto my hands and knees. It was like a dream.

I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you, he said.

I hoped not, but...

He was prophetic. When his cock emerged from the deep recesses of my hole, his load spent, it wore a brown cap.

I rotated again on the mattress, took his cock in my hand and licked the head clean. I tasted my own sweet shit. It was delicious. I tasted the hot wing sauce from the night before.

When I rose up, Trey turned me around and slapped my right butt cheek. Hard.

Asshole! He said. Queer! Pantywaist!

He slapped it again, even harder. The sharp pain had given me an erection.

You know what? Trey said. From now on, when your wife travels on business? I'm coming over and fucking you. Understand?

Yes, I said, my breath redolent of the sweet shit.

I've fucked your wife, your daughter...and now you. It's the trifecta. I fuck her when she's around. I fuck you when she's not. Got it? Asshole?

I was in a state of ecstasy. OK, I agreed.

As for your daughter...

Still on my hands and knees, I looked around. My little cock was half-hard. Pointing down.

Don't you ever cum? Trey asked, noticing it.

I stroked it once, twice. Then the sperm flew. Onto the sheets below.

Jeece! That's gross, Trey observed.

What do you care? I said. It's my bed.

I'm gonna take a shower. And off he staggered, naked. Spent. Disgusted.

*

Sometime in the middle of the night, the insatiable Trey returned to my bed. I was sound asleep. I wasn't fully aware of what was going on until I realized my naked body was being rotated onto my belly. Then a hand spread my cheeks and a lubricated cock found my hole again. As he fucked me Trey hooked his hands under my armpits. I lay still, pretending, implausibly, to still be asleep. Did this guy never get enough? I guess his actions technically constituted rape. But who was counting? I'd freely, of my own consent, bottomed for him twice in the last two days. Now he was fucking me again. My hole was raw and I was glad it was over quickly. He came with a series of fierce grunts, arching my back up from the shoulders as he did so. Then he retreated, no cleansing shower this time, to his own bed.

We had sex—I mean breakfast—at a pancake house before heading out of town the next morning. If you could call this a town. I couldn't look at the margarine melting and rolling down the sides of my stack of hotcakes without thinking of Trey's sperm inside me.

Or better yet, inside my wife.

He'd fucked me three times over the weekend. He'd fucked my wife dozens of times. And my daughter, as far as I knew, once.

I looked across the booth at him. He grinned. I smiled. Lovers. He wanted me in panties. And hose. And a wig.

I wanted his long, stiff cock in me again. I couldn't wait!

When we reached my house Karla's Camry wasn't in the driveway.

I was hoping your wife would be here, old man, he said. To my annoyance.

She's probably out shopping.

I can't wait. Got a piano to rebuild by Monday. Have her call me...

I was hoping for a kiss, even a fleeting one, but Trey exited without apparent sentiment. As if we'd just been two guys spending a weekend together at a sporting event.

When Karla finally arrived home, shopping bags in hand, she seemed a little perturbed.

What happened between you and Trey this weekend?

The blood drained from my face. What are you talking about?

He said you, like, drove him crazy. Getting him up at all hours to go to your stupid race.

Oh, I replied, relieved. Yeah. I guess so. But he didn't have to go, did he?

I wish he hadn't. I'm horny as hell.

I'm not, I said, wistfully.

What?

I mean...I'm not sure he's available. He said something about having to rebuild a piano.

I'll rebuild his piano..., she muttered. Karla clapped hands. OK, fun and games are over. Time to get to work. There's a sinkful of dirty dishes. The house is filthy. Toilets need cleaning...I have a whole honey-do list for you.

Yes, dear, I said.

And while you're doing that I'll drop in and see just what this piano-tuning is all about...

Rebuilding, I said silently, not wanting to correct her. Not in this imperious mood.

After Karla backed out of the driveway I ventured into my daughter's former bedroom and extracted a pair of her panties from my secret drawer. I stripped naked and pulled them on. They fit snugly. Perfectly. I got an instant erection.

Karla would probably be at Trey's for hours. Hours of fucking. Little would she know that his stiff cock had been up my ass all weekend.

The thought, the panties, made me feel girly. HOT! I had housework to do. I got on with it. Life was good! Sexy! A dream!