Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

We were slouched there, three across, on a sofa in the sitting room on the second floor of the ancient main section of the Forest of Dean house. We still had our trousers on, but all three of us were shirtless. I was in the middle. We were watching a male-on-male porn DVD on a big screen TV opposite the sofa. Barnes said the elderly woman who had served us a dinner in the formal dining room next to this room was from the nearby village and would go home after serving, cleaning up after the dinner the next day. So, by the time we were finished with dessert and coffee, the three of us were alone in the house.

All three of us had our cocks out and were hand stroking them as we watched the DVD. Barnes was tall and slim and hirsute and dark to Sean's ruddy reddish-blondness, short and solid build, and near-smooth skin. And where Sean's cock was thick and short until hard, Ralph Barnes' was a snake—long and thin. Sean was uncut; Barnes cut.

Almost on signal, the two of them let loose of their own cocks; turned to me, each putting an arm around my neck, Barnes slapping my hand away from my cock, and each fisting it, Barnes' hand over Sean's. The two and began kissing me, from my face down to my nipples. The grip on my cock loosened, and, as they worked my head and torso with their lips, I stroked my cock up into the sheath they'd made with their hands until I had shot my load in an arc onto the coffee table our legs were stretched out on.

Here it comes, both of them together, I thought. Barnes hadn't bothered to ask me if I took cock—Sean had already made that obvious to him. And my fantasy chats would have given him the impression that I was easy and hot for it. But it wasn't both of them together and it didn't go to the lengths I thought it would. They just bent my torso over, first to the right to Sean and then to the left to Ralph, and I gave them both head to their ejaculations in my throat.

Nothing of the kinky nature we'd exchanged e-mails about. Well, at least not yet.

After they'd both ejaculated, Ralph switched off the TV and we all went downstairs, to the long kitchen in a "modern" wing, dating only to the eighteenth century, that ran off the back of the house. This obviously was where they did most of their living. Descending three steps from the hall running across the back of the ancient house and down into a stone-walled room, one first encountered a comfortable-looking sitting area facing a fireplace. Then a dining area, and only then the restaurant-sized kitchen, beyond which there was a laundry room.

We sat at the dining table, drank beer, and Barnes told me about the house and grounds. We had driven past the pub and into Newnham, three vehicles in tandem, mine in the middle, behind Barnes' and ahead of Sean's, before turning right, away from the river and, via a narrow, hedge-row lined road, up into the Forest of Dean.

The main section of the house went back to Norman days. It had been a manor house built in the twelfth century. Three stories, two rooms per floor. A stair hall along the back had been added a few centuries later and then the two-and-a-half story kitchen wing off the back in the eighteenth century. The history of the grounds was even older than the house, the foundations of the house having been set on the ruins of a Roman temple.

The house had been conveniently split up for the use of the three men. The first two stories and the kitchen floor were common rooms. The first floor of the old house made up a reception hall and an office. The living and dining rooms were on the second floor. Peter's rooms had been on the third floor. Ralph's apartment ran across the kitchen wing and had an entrance into the old house in the hall at the back. Sean lived in attic rooms about Ralph's apartment and could access the main house via a circular staircase in a narrow tower rising between the main house and the kitchen wing.

"Time to turn in," Ralph said after telling me of a very interesting history of the house over the centuries. All of what he said clawed at my determination to sell my interest in it and the pub and run right back to the safety of the States. I had loved the house at first sight. "I'll show you up to your rooms."

"I'm sure I can find them my—" I started to say, as I rose from the table.

"I'll show you to your rooms," Ralph said, his voice commanding.

And so it began.

He followed close behind me up the staircase. On the second floor, he grabbed me and spun me around, embracing me and giving me a hard kiss on the lips.

"You know why I'm coming upstairs with you, don't you?" he asked in a guttural voice.

"Yes, of course."

"I could fuck you right here on the staircase, you know. You included that in a chat once. You made it sound so sexy. Peter was very much taken with the scene you wrote for us. I fucked him just half way up this staircase after we'd read that chat, just like you described."

Yes, I'd remembered writing that. I was extra randy that night. No, I hadn't ever actually done it, but I was here, now, steeped in fantasies of my own devising. I saw no reason not to give in to them, if just for tonight.

"You can fuck me anywhere you want, any way you want," I heard myself saying. "you want me to go down on my belly here on the staircase? Or do you want me to sit on a stair tread and open my legs to you?"

"I want you to come upstairs," he said, with a hiss, grabbing one of my wrists, bending my arm painfully behind my back, and propelling me up the stairs to the third floor.

He pushed me up to the wall beside the door into what was to be my bedroom—my belly to the wall, my trousers and briefs hitting the floor, my chin cupped and pulled back to the hollow of his shoulder with one of his hands. His other hand palmed my belly, his hard cock snaking up into my ass channel, and working my channel, kissing every surface of the shimmering muscles of my passageway with the bulb of his cock, as I moaned and moved my buttocks in coordinated movement with the cock.

"Do you remember writing this in a chat?" he muttered.

Yes, I did. Writing it, not actually doing it. But at the time I had been aching for someone to rough fuck me that way. Here, now, I was aching for Ralph to rough fuck me that way. My answer to him was to push my buttocks back into his groin and to roll them up to give him deeper penetration, I arched my back and raised my arms, locking my fists behind his neck.

"Can you do it as well for me as the black bull in my chat did it for me?" I challenged. "If so, do your worst."

With a roar he gave me a cruel upward thrust of his dick that nearly lifted me off my feet and made me yelp in surprise and pain.

"Yes, yes, fuck me. Drill me. Harder, deeper," I murmured in a low, hoarse voice, moaning for him. He sucked in his breath, no doubt surprised at my total surrender to him—and then, spurred on by my tease, complied with the harder and deeper plea.

"Very nice, very nice indeed," he whispered after I'd come and had sunk to the floor when he released me. He hadn't come yet, and instead of leaving me there, he pulled me up from the floor and pushed me into the bedroom and onto Peter's huge four-poster bed.

I recognized the position he put me in. I'd e-mailed Ralph and Peter—as Rigger and Phil—about it quite recently, even though I hadn't done it then.

I certainly did it now.

My hands were handcuffed behind my back. I was on my spread knees on the bed, cheek to bedspread—at least until Ralph started pulling on the leather strap attached to the choke collar around my throat, pulling my torso up off the bedspread as, crouched over my hips, he fucked my passage in long, hard, fast thrusts, working up to his own ejaculation.

Sean came onto the bed, knelt in front of me, grabbing my ears in his hands, forcing my face down to his cock, with Ralph easing the pull on the choke collar just enough to accommodate Sean's needs.

After Sean had creamed my tonsils—with Ralph still fucking away in my channel—he lowered his own face to my cock and blew me.

They stayed with me a few hours, holding me between them, working my body with their hands, lips, and teeth until I'd had another ejaculation. And then, arm in arm, they silently withdrew into the darkness.

It was almost exactly what I was going for in my fantasized e-mail to Phil and Rigger. I went to sleep both moaning and humming.