My Night Out in Boystown Ended in an Unexpected MMMF With Double Vaginal Penetration
I cannot emphasize enough how much I love Chicago.
This story is about how my night in Boystown ended. Head here to read how it began.
I hadn’t cum, and there wasn’t a world where I was ending my night out in Boystown without shooting my load in or someone. Besides, I was in Chicago for my book tour. What type of Boyslut would I be if I, a D-list celebrity author, didn’t paint the town…with my cum. (Nailed it.)
Luckily, I had Ella by my side. And she was—is—the ultimate wingwoman. She knows how to charm any man, regardless of their sexual orientation. Then it’s just one alley-oop after the next. She lines up the boys, and I knock ‘em down. So our night out, we were a dynamic duo, like Bonnie and Clyde—or Ren and Stimpy.
She also made me feel like a king by having us skip the very long line to Charlie’s at 2 am. And if you’ve ever skipped a club line in your life, you feel so good. I know it’s stupid and annoying for everyone you cut, but you feel like royalty among plebeians. So I walked into Charlie’s with my dick swinging low, thinking I owned the place.
While all the men in Charlie’s—really, all of Chicago—were fine as hell, one man’s beauty, in particular, caught my eye: Jamal. He wore white, pleated pants—a modern version of 1920s “trousers.” His black tank top was tucked into his high-wasted pants, revealing his colossal arms and shoulders. You could see his abs through his tank top. And his whole body was glowing. This man cared for every inch of himself and was highly moisturized—his soft skin covering his otherwise rock-hard body.
Jamal was dancing with his friend. While I first noticed his attire and body, I saw his face when he turned towards me: big brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full, kissable lips.
I just knew he would be the man I was taking home. And when we locked eyes—that confirmed it. He smiled, and so did I. I approached, complimenting him on his look. He thanked me, and we began dancing together.
I danced behind him, being about eight inches taller. He tilted his head back into the curve between my neck and shoulders, and I gently kissed his throat. He moaned as we continued to sway together. I let my hands freely roam his body, inserting my hand underneath his tank, feeling his meaty pecs. I lowered my hand to his stomach and gasped, “Wow.”
I work out quite a bit and do not have muscles like him. So I know the amount of effort, time, and discipline that went into sculpting his physique.
When we kissed, it was like we had met in another life. Our tongues gracefully danced in unison. His soft, pillowy lips pressing against mine felt natural.
We danced on the floor for quite some time before Ella joined us. She, too, found Jamal gorgeous and asked if he was bi. (Literally, that’s the first thing I ask when I see a good-looking man in a relationship with a woman. Ella and I are the same.)
He said he was, which was a pleasant surprise. It goes to show that sometimes even my bi-dar is off.
When I asked if he wanted to leave the bar with me, Ella, and her friend, Ricardo, he said he’d love to.
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