I Nearly Lost My Mind Having a Foursome in P-Town With My Hubby, a Short King, and a Massive 10-Incher
I’ll never forget that stupidly large, all-consuming, death-defying third leg.
By Daniel Douglas
All photos depict the author and his husband, courtesy of the author and his husband.
Some might call me a “Jack of(f) all trades.” I write, perform, and have had about a dozen other side hustles between gigs. My last creative venture was a wet dream: performing a run of shows in Provincetown with my multi-hyphenate hunk of a husband, Chris.
To sell tickets to our show, we’d stand shirtless on the street in broad daylight passing out flyers, but it was flirting with the boys at bars that actually got butts in seats. One night, my hubby and I were out drinking when another cute couple approached and introduced themselves.
I love it when the whole of a couple is greater than the sum of its parts, and these two men complemented each other nicely—a ribeye with a cabernet sauvignon. Tom was the wine—taller, older, and wiser. Nick was the steak—shorter and built. Since I’m not a size queen—I top—I typically like my men short and stacked.
Tom came on to my husband first. Watching a fellow tall prince hit on my short king made me hot under the collar (if I had been wearing a collar, which I wasn’t). The DJ had barely finished a single song before the two of them furiously made out, shoving their tongues down each other’s throats.
Nick, aka the ribeye, looked at me, searching for signs of jealousy. I explored his baby blue eyes for evidence of distress myself. After realizing we were both more aroused than envious, we shared a comfortable laugh. His giggle was adorably infectious: angelic and devilish at the same time. He had the perfect blend of masculine and feminine. His smooth face was boyish, but his shaved head and veiny muscles were manly.
I moved closer to him on the dancefloor, using the loud music as an excuse to lean into his ear and whisper sweet nothings. He picked up what I was putting down and slid his hand across the small of my back to pull himself in closer.
“Let’s give them a run for their money,” I suggested, gesturing to Tom and Chris as they ate each other’s faces.
“Hell yeah,” Nick nodded, getting on his tippy toes and closing his eyes.
My cock lurched up, seeing him prepare himself to kiss me. He must have noticed because shortly after I stuck my tongue down his throat, he stuck his hand down my pants. As I felt his hand size up my meaty semi, I pulled my mouth away from his to see his reaction.
“Mmm, fuck,” he replied, biting his lower lip. “I want it.”
Nick looked at me, and the two of us got lost, daydreaming about our inevitable sex to cum. Eventually, Nick remembered we were still in public and removed his hand from my bulge, leaving me noticeably erect. I held my drink with both hands over my crotch to obscure the view. Looking over, I saw tall Tom also nervously concealing his erection like a teenage boy.
“Let’s go back to our place,” Tom said.
“Does your place have a hot tub?” Chris challenged playfully. “Our place has a hot tub.”
“Your place then,” Tom shot back.
We were tempted, but Chris and I knew that tonight was not the night. After all, this was a work trip, and the kind of fun we wanted with these two might leave our bodies too worn for peak performance onstage.
“Hate to be the responsible one, but we’ve got to rest up for our final show tomorrow,” I confessed.
“Oh damn,” Nick licked his lips, tempting me.
“How about this,” Chris offered. “You both come see our last performance, and we can all let loose together afterward?”
“We’ll be there,” Tom assured.
“Looking forward to it,” I said, locking eyes with the cabernet for the first time that evening. And with four pairs of blue balls, we hugged and kissed goodnight.
The next evening, we didn’t think ribeye and cab would show. This shit happens all the time in P-Town. You flirt and plan to meet up, but it never comes to fruition. Besides, many gay guys have no desire to see any performances in P-Town—they go for the surplus of boys.
To our surprise, Tom and Nick were in the audience, smack dab front row center. They looked up at us with their eyes wide and smiles beaming. They were adorably distracting, and we had to avoid performing directly to them. As soon as we took our bows, Tom and Nick leaped to their feet, inspiring the entire audience to give us a standing ovation…Little did we know the kind of “O” they would give us later that night.
After the show, the boys flattered Chris and me. Were they just trying to get into our pants? It was unnecessary, as we obviously wanted to fuck them. Still, I liked how they stroked our egos and couldn’t help but wonder how they’d be stroking something else. Alas, they had dinner reservations but assured us they’d text later.
I was doubtful. The story has ended here countless times. Luckily, Tom and Nick were not your average couple. Neither are we. We had never been so ready when they texted asking if they could come over.
Thirty minutes later, we opened the door. There stood our ribeye and cab hand-in-hand. “Where’s this hot tub you keep bragging about?” Tom asked.
Seconds later, the four of us were completely nude—shamelessly staring at each other’s bodies. I took my time before dunking in the tub so that I could show off every single part of my swimmer’s body; my prominent pecs, my carved-out cum gutters, and my long, muscular legs…all three of them. Chris’ beautifully balanced diver’s body glistened as he jumped into the bubbling water. Nick’s short but solid physique was even more impressive without clothes, and a stark tan line accentuated his already perky shelf of a muscle ass.
Tom stripped down last. He peeled off each layer, revealing his athletic, wiry frame. What I wasn’t expecting was one of the lengthiest, girthiest, and most gorgeously-shaped soft cocks I’d ever seen. Not to brag, but I rarely encounter penises that are noticeably larger than mine. Before any of us were fully hard, I could already tell Tom had me beat. As a top, I tend to be dominant, and although I’m not a size queen, I’m a sucker for a meaty cock (literally).
Once in the hot tub, we picked up where we left off a day ago. I kissed Nick, and he gripped my hard dick underwater. Chris was doing the same with Tom, but as his cock hardened, it started to break the bubbling surface. I glanced over and couldn’t help but do some drunk, inexact, quick math to determine how monstrous Tom’s Loch Ness was. I’m not typically the jealous type, yet a rare pang of penis envy bubbled inside like the hot tub jets. Was it envy or desire? Both?
As if to mark my territory, I instinctively swam over to kiss my husband hard, pressing my body and cock against his. Nick followed suit and started hooking up with his horse-hung boyfriend. Now felt like a good time to ask the age-old question.
“So I’m a bottom, and he’s a top,” Chris prompted, gesturing to me. “How about y’all?”
“Vers top,” Tom quickly replied.
“Vers bottom,” Nick volleyed.
“Perfect! We have one of each!” I proclaimed, standing up to reveal my mighty sword.
Immediately, Chris started gagging on my dick, taking all of me in his mouth. When Nick joined in, they began making out through my shaft. Tom grabbed my balls with one hand and used his tongue to lick my head. Yes, three men were worshiping me with their mouths. I loved it, but a part of me wanted to pay tribute to the other monster schlong in attendance.
Nick and Chris continued kissing passionately. Both had bottom energy, but Chris tends to bring out the top in any vers—even vers bottoms—and Nick was no exception.
Nick stood up, found his dom top energy, and bent my hubby over to feast on his ass. Finally, Tom stood up, and I saw his monster cock in all its glory: sticking out straight as a rod, perpendicular to the ground, and uniformly thick. His was just like mine, only noticeably longer and thicker… intimidatingly thick. I’m slightly over eight inches, so if I had to guess, he was easily nine and a half. My hands reached for it.
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