Fruits from a Botched Threesome

by Diego

So I just recently swallowed straight white married jizz. It had been a minute seen I'd last got fucked by married dick. I had almost forgotten the way they treat your body; so much bottled-up frustration suddenly finding a channel to come out of.

The back-story is that it was one of those nights where you stay up all night juggling Manhunt, Adam4Adam, Craigslist, a hand on your dick and a finger up your butt. And you STILL cannot find a decent trick. It was probably 10 in the morning and I hadn't eaten, pissed, slept of gotten out of my seated upright position for about 14 hours. That kind of sex addiction trance that suddenly turns thirst, hunger and phone calls from your friends and family into unnecessary annoyances.

Some guy without a face photo messaged me saying he wanted to schedule a threesome for later that afternoon. While a face picture is pre-requisite, he was both married to a woman and had a buddy to offer, so he made up for it. While he said "threesome", he was really talking about a "tag team". There's a big difference. Threesomes are when three fags suck and fuck each other off pretending they don't all wish they'd been the only bottom getting rammed by the other two. In a "tag team" the power structures are clearer and more honest: one bitch, two dicks. And that's what we like.

By the end of the day, however, his friend got held up at his Connecticut home, so the married guy had to come over by himself. He was a 37-year-old lawyer from the Upper East Side whose wife never gave him ass. "She wouldn't even lay naked next to me like this", he said. Apparently, the bitch only lets him fuck her once a month and never gives him head. She is very good at spending his cash though. Why do these straight guys allow themselves to be sex-deprived banks to these gold-diggers? The bitch's gotta be getting sex somewhere too. Like him.

Anyway, he held me and kissed me and melted whenever I touched any of his limbs. It was like he hadn't been touched or recognized as a human being for quite a long time. He made me offers to stay at his summer home with him if I ever wanted to get away ("We'd have more time for ourselves, more space"). And he ended the whole thing by offering a "I could definitely take care of somebody like you". Which made me feel like a gold-digging whore. Not the Upper East Side kind though, but Julia Roberts, which I'm down with.

Why is it that these sexually repressed white men (redundancy?) fall so quickly for young boy flesh? I am not sure, but my own broke and compact life suddenly started seeming like a blessing compared to his cash-filled dome of sterility. There is something apocalyptic about affording a second home in Florida, but being unable to sleep beside who you actually desire.

For more Diego, click here.