Tuesday at Three

Moving Townsend over to a massage table, they pushed him down on the edge of the table’s end, his feet on the floor and his chest on the surface of the table. The younger of the two held a totally exhausted and sore Townsend down on the table with one fist in the small of his back and the other hand gripping the back of his neck, while the darker Colombian roamed around the room and found lengths of nylon roping.

Minutes later, Townsend’s legs were spread and tied to legs of the table at his ankles and hips, and his wrists were tied to where the middle legs of the massage table frame met the top of the table.

Leaving Townsend there to moan and contemplate his possible fate, the two Colombians retreated to the kitchen and raided the refrigerator for beer and whatever they could find to eat to replenish the rough work they’d done—and to prepare for the rough work still ahead of them.

After they’d eaten and taken a piss and drank off another beer, they reentered the exercise room. They stood in full view of Townsend, and he trembled as they both rolled on condoms once more.

The younger one with the long, thin cock fucked him first. He just walked up behind Townsend and between his legs and thrust his cock deep inside Townsend’s now-gaping hole and stroked hard and deep and fast. He reached up and buried a fist in Townsend’s hair and arched the American’s back toward him as far as the stretched arms and tied wrist would permit. He used his other hand to slap Townsend on the butt cheek and flank while he fucked him in a virile, relentless, long- fast-stroked taking.