Bear was perhaps the gayest man in a changing room full of gay men. Barrel-chested, big-bellied, broad-shouldered, fleeced with thick dark hair. Both his nipples were pierced and his meaty cock never seemed to drop below a 45 degree angle, like it was permanently flushed with blood and always on the prowl.
Ratboy, on the other hand, was clearly straight and basically a homophobe. Despite his feral appearance and council estate chic, he’d let his genetic inheritance go to his head. His long, lanky dick bounced off his weedy thighs as he strutted around like he owned the place. In flagrant disregard for all shower etiquette he helicoptered his cock as he washed himself.
Yeah, I look at other blokes’ dicks, what of it? Game recognise game.
Anyway, I was lying by the pool getting some sun one day when Ratboy came over. The weird thing about Ratboy was that he wore these vile Bermuda shorts that went down to his knees when the only reason to go to an outdoor pool in England was to pose. Some of the gay guys basically wore tissuepaper thin white thongs but everyone dressed to impress. My own considerable budgie – or perhaps tropical parrot was more accurate – was being smuggled in a way that wouldn’t have fooled the laziest customs official and drew glances from men and women. Ratboy might have paraded his six inches of dangling dick around the changing room but out here he looked like a twelve year old.
“Ere, mate, do us a favour?”
If he’d approached me on the street, I’d have assumed this was a prelude to asking for a pound.
“Yeah?”
“So I’ve got this bird, right?”
“Right?” Jesus, was this conversation going to be comprised entirely of questions.
“And she’s done me this deal. She’s a proper little slapper. Says she’ll only let me do her up the arse if it’s a threesome.”
Well, I hadn’t seen that one coming. Fair play to Ratboy, it took balls to make that pitch in a public place to basically a complete stranger.
“Interesting,” I mused. “Why me?”
“Like I said, she’s a slapper. Proper little size queen, knowworimean?” He grabbed his crotch for emphasis just in case I was as mentally retarded as he was. “She said I had to get someone decent and it couldn’t be any of my mates. I told her you was almost as big as me and her eyes fucking lit up.”
Almost? The cheeky little sod! I had him beat and then some.
“So you up for a spitroast or what? I get the arse, obviously.”
Obviously.
“Maybe,” I said, scratching my chin. I mean, yeah, I was up for it but I wanted to check out the goods first. “Is she here?”
“‘Ere, Stace,” he suddenly shouted, causing the whole place to look round at the lout who was killing the vibe. “Come over here.”
A girl in a neon blue bikini started to walk over from the loungers. I gave her the once over as she came towards us.
She couldn’t have been more than five foot which made the lean legs running up from her sexy little feet all the more impressive. They were smooth and shapely with muscle and curves in perfect proportion. Despite her total lack of pigment, they terminated in a plump little black girl’s arse. Above her tiny bikini bottom was a trim tummy I wanted to run my tongue over and then an equally tiny bikini top containing a ludicrously perky pair of tits which jutted out proudly from her petite body.
And then I got to her face.
It was basically triangular. Her sharp chin swept up to a bulging forehead accentuated by hair scraped back into a Croydon facelift ponytail. Beady eyes capped by ludicrous drawn-on eyebrows. Flaring nostrils above a sour mouth full of crooked teeth.
Yeah, body off Baywatch, face off Crimewatch. Or, as our American cousins more succinctly put it, a butterface.
Ah well, you can’t have everything. I’d enjoy fucking that tight little body even if I had to put a bag over her head.
“This is the guy I told you about,” said Ratboy by way of introduction.
“Yeah? You got a big cock then?” Butterface asked, hands on hips and staring at my junk.
Honestly, the youth of today.
“Yeah, I’ve got a big cock. Biggest you’ve ever had,” I added, making Ratboy scowl.
“Alright then. Let’s do it. I’ll go and get my stuff.” And she turned on her heel
“What, now?” I asked, taken aback by the speed of things. I’d gone from relaxing in the sun to being procured for a threesome in less than five minutes. Still, probably not the first time for this place.
“No time like the fuckin’ present,” said Ratboy, rubbing his hands together with glee.
***
It turned out that Ratboy lived in one of the Corporation of London estates that ringed the Oasis. In private hands the flat would have been half a million quid, minimum, but they were still mostly council tenants. So it was less than ten minutes after leaving the changing room that he pushed through his front door and the two of us followed.
Ratboy went to a fridge, got out two cans of Fosters and offered one to me. Usually I’d never drink that piss – not to mention it was 11 am – but he was letting me fuck his bird so it would have been churlish to decline. I cracked it open and clinked cans.
“I’ll get my own fucking drink, shall I?” said Butterface.
“I don’t know how you are going to fucking drink it while your mouth is full of cock, you dozy cow. Why don’t you do something useful and get naked.”
I thought Butterface was going to go ballistic but she just called him a prick under her breath and started to strip. Far be it from me to judge anyone’s relationship…
Ratboy wasn’t wasting any time either and had soon jettisoned the horrendous tracksuit he was wearing. He clearly hadn’t put on any underwear after leaving the pool so he was standing naked in front of me in the middle of his grubby kitchen in seconds.
“Shall we?” he asked, slapping Butterface on the arse and then propelling her towards the bedroom with his hand on her lower back. I admired the jiggle of her fleshy backside, took a swig of lager and followed them.
Bloody hell, he really didn’t waste any time. By the time I had entered the room, Butterface was already on her hands and knees on a grim looking sofa and Ratboy had commenced foreplay. This consisted of squirting lube onto two fingers and then sawing them in and out of her cunt with a wet farting noise.
“Are you joining in or what?” he asked, wanking himself off with his other hand.
Again, it would have been churlish to refuse. I set the can down on a rickety shelf and started to get undressed. Since I subscribe to a little thing called style, it took me considerably longer than Ratboy. By the time I was naked, Butterface was panting like a dog and Ratboy was fully erect. He’d put on an inch or so in length but nothing in girth and his dick waggled vertically in front him like a leek. Continuing to waste no time, he plunged into Butterface as I stepped in front of her.
I’ll be honest, it wasn’t the most erotic tableaux I’d ever witnessed. I’d had a few threesomes before but usually the other parties were more attractive and personable and I’d known them for more than a quarter of an hour. Not to mention the general ambience. In this fetid flat, if I looked forward, I was staring straight into Ratboy’s gurning face as he huffed and puffed while banging away hammer and tongs. If I looked down, it was at Butterface’s boss-eyed horrorshow of a visage. None of this was helped by the fact the mood lighting consisted of a single bare bulb. I was still totally soft and starting to worry I might stay that way. Luckily Butterface helped progress things.
“Fucking hell, you’re massive,” she grunted.
It came out in a staccato stutter as Ratboy slammed away at her from the back. Still, always a good ego boost and I started to plump up.
“Well, don’t just stare at it. See how big you can make it.”
She reached up to grab my cock, wobbling a bit due to her boyfriend’s vigorous ploughing. She wrapped her fingers round it, her hand not able to close even though I was only three quarters hard; I could tell by the way her eyes widened that she was slightly overwhelmed by how much cock she was holding. She started to stroke me but almost capsized off the sofa so quickly stuffed me in her mouth.
Or tried, at least.
I’ll be honest, I’m not a massive fan of blowjobs. I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but I could count on the finger of one hand the good blowjobs I’d had. One of the downsides of having a monster cock; I’m sure you can sympathise. Occasionally I’d met a proper size queen who took my dick as a challenge and really went to town. The number who had conquered that challenge was even smaller and it was usually a one time thing. Why climb Everest twice when you’d only narrowly survived oxygen deprivation the first time round?
So oral sex for me was really only worthwhile for the aesthetic pleasure of watching a beautiful woman’s face distended around my hog. Butterface’s mouth was definitely distended but it made her look disabled.
“You don’t have to be gentle with her, mate,” advised Ratboy. “She’s used to dealing with me. She could suck a golfball through a hose.”
But could she suck a tennis ball through a Pringles tube?
I stuck one hand on the back of her head and reached down to grab a swaying tit with the other. They really were exceptional, I reflected, as I roughly kneaded her firm titmeat whilst probing her throat in earnest. I hadn’t got more than a third of my cock in her mouth but the saliva starting to soak my pubes confirmed that she was definitely beginning to earn her keep.
“Watch out, mate, I’m switching holes. Careful she don’t bite your dick off.”
Sweet of him to care but his girlfriend couldn’t have closed her mouth even if she’d tried. My dick was so fat it was practically dislocating her jaw.
He pulled open her arse with one hand, grabbed the base of his cock with the other and just stabbed forward.
“Gruhmph!” said Butterface, her throat vibrating around my tightly stuffed dick. Maybe there are some positives to a spitroast.
“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” said Ratboy, lancing into her guts.