Double Teamed

It’s the same fantasy I’ve been jacking to for years. Not every day, not every week or even every month, but one I keep coming back to time and time again.

I’m shirtless, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of Levi’s, and underneath, a tight white pair of cotton briefs. There are two guys. They’re older than me but just barely, not decades. They’re a little taller than me and much more muscular. One of them holds my arms back firmly from behind while the other unbuckles my belt, pulls it out smoothly through the loops, unbuttons my fly.

My jeans are old, comfortable, well-worn. They fit closely around my quads and hams, snugly across my ass. They bulge out tight along my cock as it hardens. The guy in front of me yanks them down to my knees; the outline of my stiff cock is plain to see against the soft white cotton, straining to poke up through the waistband. He looks up at me and smiles.

I don’t know how I got into this situation, why I’m shirtless with two guys molesting me. The setup isn’t always part of the fantasy and it changes over the years. The guys change too, depending on where I happen to be in life and who I happen to be hot for. I’ve changed over the years myself. But then again I haven’t changed.

Back in high school it could have happened after wrestling practice. I’ve already showered and I’m getting dressed in front of my locker, in a row of lockers all to myself. Two guys, seniors, cocky assholes still sweaty in their workout clothes come strutting into the aisle. Without a word one of them grabs me from behind, holds my arms back forcefully. He leans in over my shoulder, presses close against my back. The strength of his arms, his muscular flesh pressed against me make me quiver. I smell the stink of his armpits, sour and pungent. I struggle but I can’t move. He’s holding my arms too tight, and one of his legs is hooked around mine. His hips are grinding against my ass.

His buddy pulls my belt off, unbuttons my fly and peels down my jeans. I’m terrified and excited. I’ve jacked off many times to fantasies of these two, each on their own and both together. But now I’m afraid of what will happen. Nobody knows I’m gay; I’m not sure I know it yet myself. My cock grows and stiffens. They laugh at me, taunt me, call me a faggot. The one in front squats down in front of me, yanks down my briefs, eyes my hard cock. He giggles and grins, reaches out and starts jacking it clumsily, rough and hard. He doesn’t even look at the rest of my body. High school boys always go right for the cock. I feel the other’s meat stiffen through his thin workout shorts, pressed against my bare ass. My eyes are wet. I struggle again, to no avail. I feel a sense of panic and a rising tide in my crotch. My body suddenly jerks and I blow my load, hard. My cum splatters the shoulder of the one jacking me. He reels back.

“Faggot! God damn it, you fag!”

He pulls off his sweaty tank top, wipes my cum from his shoulder and stands in front of me. His buddy laughs and tightens his grip. I gaze at his body, eighteen-year-old muscles glistening with sweat and traces of cum. He takes the tank top with his sweat and my cum on it and rubs it in my face. I want to sniff it, taste it, lick it, but I don’t dare. He glares at me a moment, a snotty high school boy pout, then drops his workout shorts and pulls out his own cock, long and thick and hard. I stare at it hungrily. He grabs his cock and jacks himself until he shoots a load all over my chest and abs. His cum feels warm and thick and good on my bare skin. My cock twitches with longing. His buddy shoves me against the lockers and they both head to the shower. I clean myself up as best I can and finish dressing and go home.

It isn’t always a humiliation fantasy. That’s just the way it works sometimes.

In college, maybe I’m hanging out with a couple buddies who live across the hall. We’re piled onto the couch drinking beers, watching the game on TV. Any game, it doesn’t matter which. We’re not wearing any shirts or shoes because we’re all pretty casual around the dorm. My buddies were both big time jocks in high school and I guess that’s why we get along. They’re constantly in the gym pumping iron together and each one sports a set of ripped, beefy muscles that makes me secretly drool. Just spending the evening sitting on the couch in between them, I know I’ll be pounding out a hard one when I’m alone in my own room later. But they’re not gay as far as I can tell, and I don’t think they know about me. I sip the last of my beer and set the empty down on the floor, and I spot one of them making a little eye signal and smiling and nodding to the other.

My buddy on the left suddenly grabs my shoulders and spins me, latches onto my arms and holds them hard behind me while the other swings my legs up onto the couch and squirms in between them and holds them down. My wrestler’s instincts kick in and I try to break loose and wriggle myself free but between the two of them they have me caught. The one between my legs looks me over long and slow; my chest is stretched taut by his buddy’s hold on my arms. He leans in and rubs my pecs with both hands, slides them down my abs and into the waistband of my jeans. I realize what’s going on and stop fighting and let him pull off my belt, peel my jeans all the way down off my ankles. My cock begins to harden. He strokes it through the fabric of my briefs as his buddy wraps his arms around me tight with my own arms still pinned behind, holds my torso firmly in place between his knees and croons softly into my ear.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay bro… relax… you’re gonna like this.”

The guy on top of me tugs at the elastic of my briefs, peels them slowly down. My cock springs out, thankfully released, fully erect and aching for his touch. I lift my ass so he can slide the briefs down, then raise my legs to let him pull them all the way off. I’m completely naked now, leaning back easy in the arms of one gorgeous stud still holding me tightly, my bare legs casually splayed around the other as he gives me a devious grin, bends in and licks my hard cock from end to end, runs his tongue around the head and then takes it into his lips and slides my shaft all the way inside his throat. He sucks me in and out with a slow, smooth motion. I thrust my hips forward eagerly to push my cock ever farther down his throat, my deep, panting breath constricted by his buddy’s forceful grip. My cock head swells; I can feel the precum flowing. Suddenly he slips my cock out of his mouth, rocks back away from me on the couch. I watch as he unties the drawstring of his workout shorts and pulls them down.

“Your turn.”

He moves in close on top of me and thrusts his cock into my face, supporting himself with both hands on his buddy’s shoulders. His cock is monstrous, beautiful. I stretch my neck to lick it and take it in my lips. He leans in closer and I suck it in as far as I can go. I already taste precum and I hear him grunt and moan as he slides his meat in and out of my mouth. His muscled body tenses and relaxes as he grinds his cock into me. His breath becomes shallow and sharp. I feel his buddy’s hand slide down along my abs, reach for my cock and jack me while he licks and nibbles on my ear. My ball sack tightens, a wave of pleasure washes over me and I shoot my load in his hand, just as the thick cock in my mouth erupts in a torrent of hot cream that floods down my throat, the arms around me still holding on tight. His cum drains into my throat as mine pours out onto my own abs. We all three collapse together, and watch the rest of the game.

It isn’t just an angst-driven juvenile fantasy either. As a full-fledged adult I’m comfortable with myself. I’m cocksure. I know who I am and I want other people to know it too. I don’t dress myself up like a pride parade but I don’t hide what I like. The ambush scene still works for me.

I’m at home on a Saturday and there’s a knock at the door. It’s a couple guys from the gym. They study mixed martial arts together and they’re both solid as iron, and ruggedly handsome and smoking hot. I know they’re gay and partnered, and they know I’m gay and not. They’re not guys I normally hang around with but they’re nice enough, and we talk at the gym from time to time. I don’t know how they know where I live. Maybe they just happened to be passing by some time and saw me. Or maybe they followed me home.

I give them a friendly greeting and they grin and push their way inside the door. They’re boisterous, rowdy, on a testosterone high. I wonder if they might be tanked. The door slams shut and they push me back against the wall, still grinning. One of them holds my arms back behind me while the other grabs the collar of my T-shirt and rips it down the front. The sound of tearing fabric slashes through my head as they bare first my chest and then my abs, and react with little lustful yips and yelps – I may not be as beefed as them but I’m every bit as ripped. The one in front of me pulls my T-shirt all the way off and then makes a grab at my pecs, squeezes my shoulders and triceps. I make a token effort of resistance. I know the game by now and I don’t want to spoil their fun.

He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, leans in and mashes his lips against mine, shoves his tongue into my mouth. I return the attack hungrily, push my tongue against his and tease him fervently while his buddy blurts out “Yeah! Damn! Hell yeah!” He moves down my torso, licks and bites at my nipples, runs his tongue over my abs and swirls it into my navel, then unbuckles my belt, unbuttons my fly and shoves my jeans to the floor. My cock bulges against my tight briefs; the soft cotton clings to my ass. I shift my stance to feel it rub in my crack.

His buddy pins both arms to my sides with a single muscular arm wrapped around my chest, grabs my chin with his free hand and pulls my mouth to his. I crane my neck to meet his lips and we kiss desperately, his two-day growth scraping roughly against my own. He lets go of my chin and gropes for my left nipple and squeezes it hard, not hard enough to damage but hard enough to hurt, and to arouse. My cock is as stiff as wood and begging for release. Below, I feel my briefs peeled down, my quads and hams squeezed. A huge meaty hand takes a solid grip on my balls and my cock slides between a pair of warm wet lips. I gasp for breath as my captor behind me tightens his hold and runs tongue and mouth over my neck. I feel a firm tug at my balls. I feel my cock head press against the soft back of an eager throat. A hand slides from my ball sack to the space between my thighs, and then up along my crack. Thick wet fingers probe at my anus, slip inside, reach deep. I spread my sphincter for them willingly.

“It’s time. He’s ready.”

They drag me to my bedroom, two pairs of hands pawing me, possessing me, guiding me, controlling me. They pull the covers off the bed and push me face down to the mattress. One holds me down while the other ransacks my nightstand until he finds my bottle of lube. He squeezes a large glob onto his hand, greases his bare cock and smears it along my crack. His cool slippery touch makes me shudder and moan and I plead with him to fuck me, fuck me now, fuck me hard. I feel his thick cock push into my ass and I moan long and low, from the gut, loving the feeling of his meat inside me. He thrusts into me powerfully, plowing me for all I’m worth. I hang on his every stroke, my body shuddering and quaking and straining as I beg for him to pump me harder. I tip over the edge and blow my load, pour my cream out onto the sheets beneath me.

The two of them tag-team me all afternoon, each one plowing my ass until he’s ready to cum and then pulling out and handing me back over to his buddy. They ride me hard, always from behind, always with my face mashed into the pillow. I love the feeling of their muscular bodies pressing down on me and the feeling of their thick cocks violating me. I cum again, and a third time before they’re done with me, spurt after spurt of hot cream gushing out of me drenching the bedsheets, slathering over my body. My moans weaken and melt into whimpers until finally they can’t hold back any longer and each in turn pours his hot load into me, bucking and thrashing on top of me. All of us satiated and exhausted, they lie in bed beside me and press in on each side, wrap their arms around and sandwich me between them and keep me hostage.

In real life when I’m with someone I’m dominant. I like to be always in control. In real life the guys I’m with are usually a little younger than me, and not quite as muscular, and not as confident, and not as tough. In my fantasy life, sometimes, I want it to be different. I don’t want to be such a tough guy. I want to be somebody’s toy, a pet, a captive. I want to be ambushed. I want to be helpless. And I want to be .