I Had the Most (Incredible) Bisexual Sex of My Life Saturday Night at BFF (Part III)
The thrilling conclusion to the Bisexual F*ck Fest trilogy where I f*cked ten people in one wild night.
Original illustration by Tara Savelo
This is part III (the conclusion) of my Saturday night at BFF (Bisexual Fuck Fest). Read parts I and II here and here.
“Flip over,” Alan commanded. “Hold on, I need a break,” Eve huffed as she stood up.
“My turn,” I said impatiently.
Eve was on her way to grab some water but stopped midtrack. “You’re going to take that?” she asked incredulously.
I mean, yeah, that was the plan, I thought to myself. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have opened my big trap.
I could no longer attempt to casually take the full size of his manhood. Eve’s inquiry wasn’t merely a question—it was a challenge. And so I would have to take his cock, no matter much I’d hate myself the following day.
Thank God John was big. Not Alan big, but undeniably above average—and I had been taking that dick like a champ for the past ten minutes.
I knew to start by riding Alan. There was no way I was letting that man ram his meatstick inside of me doggy style. I was trying to have a fun time and impress my new girlfriend—not get impaled—so I told him to lie down on the bed.
I found a spare bottle of lube that lay on the sheets. It was water-based. No, that would not do. I asked the room if there was silicone lube, and an older onlooker opened his fanny pack and handed me a travel-sized bottle.
“You’re an angel,” I told the septuagenarian.
Squirting generously, I lubed up both my asshole and his massive cock. I analyzed his appendage; his thickness was the problem. I could not wrap my entire hand around his girth, and his head was even meatier. So he would get easier the further he was inside of me. Getting to his shaft would be the challenge. I also had to keep him inside of me. If he were to fully remove himself every time before spearing back in, he’d be tearing me open with each plunge.
When his dick was slicker than a Slip ‘N Slide, I took the deepest of breaths. If I were Catholic, I would have made the sign of the cross over my chest.
“You got this,” Eve said, reading my mind.
I grabbed the base of his cock and pressed his mushroom head to my hole. “I can do this,” I said and sat down.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh, FUCK,” I shouted. Maybe a third of his head was in? All eyes were on me. That’s what happens when you make your scene the spectacle by being the loudest and most obnoxious.
I wanted to stop, and sure, I could have. Alan and the room would have been supportive and respectful. But there was no way I was going to tap out. I talk a big game and have a critically acclaimed book titled Boyslut that tens of thousands of people have read or listened to. What type of Boyslut would I be if I let a (huge) penis get the best of me?
“Shit!” I shouted. His head was shaped like an hourglass, and I was approaching the center, the thickest part. I roared as I slipped over his head and down his shaft.
“YES!” I shouted. You’d have thought it was the bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded, and I hit a game-winning grand slam. I went wild. The crowd went wild. Eve went wild.
I arched my back and shifted my weight side to side, getting used to his member inside of me. With a deep breath, I raised to the base of his head, then sat back down.
I could do this. I mean, I am doing this, I thought. I lifted and slammed back down.
“Oh damn,” he said. He was getting up in me. I clenched my hole around his shaft and leaned back. I didn’t have a cowboy hat to wave, but I still sounded like Major Kong hollering as he rode the A-bomb in Dr. Stranglove. Like Kong, I knew riding this explosive device would be the end of me, but I didn’t give a fuck.
“Yasss!” I shouted. “Give me that donkey dick!” I shouted. Alan smiled, grabbed my hips, and thrusted further into me.
“Oh, boy!” I cried. With each push, his balls smacked against my taint—echoing throughout the entire room.
“You want to fuck me doggy?” I asked. What was I doing? Was I that big of a glutton for punishment?
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