Pauls Apartment Ch 04

Note: This chapter includes, among many other things, sex between two bisexual men. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip it.

I've always skewed towards an omniscient narrator, but in this series I'm experimenting with first-person narration. It creates interesting constraints and opportunities when you can only get inside of one character's head. Each chapter has a different narrator from the prior one. In this fourth chapter, the narrative voice switches from Paul back to Ryan. I hope you all enjoy it. It's not necessary to read all the chapters, in order or otherwise. Each story stands on its own. But if you enjoy any of them, you'll probably enjoy all of them. All characters are in their 20s or older.

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I might be the luckiest guy in the world. It's not easy to find a good partner. It's not easy to have a satisfying sex life. Both of those things are twice as hard if you're kinky. But over the last months, everything I'd ever wanted had come to me. Power of positive thinking? I don't know. Maybe. It's not my way to overthink these things. I just take it as it comes, and thank the stars for the woman in my life, and the amazing sex we seem to have almost constantly.

For anyone to understand how my girlfriend Jun and I got to this place, I will need to explain a little bit about myself. By "this place," I mean having a sexual relationship with another man. Let me be clear - it was not an accident of chance that Paul, a homely old hermit with an enormous cock, had entered our lives -- or our bodies -- Jun's and mine. I spent years working towards this.

When I was a teenager, most of my masturbatory fantasies had been pretty typical, and pretty tame. The mere thought of getting a blowjob, or even the mere sight of a naked girl, could drive me over the edge easily and quickly. But one day I found a stack of discarded porno mags next to a trash can on the street. (Side note: thank you from the bottom of my heart to whomever purged his porn collection on that fateful day!) One of the magazines was European. The stories, or whatever they were, were all in French. I couldn't make head or tail out of any of it. But here was the thing: the photo sets featured exclusively threesomes and groups -- always one woman with multiple men. Those photos completely blew my mind. I had never considered the possibility that sex could happen among more than two people at a time; or that a girl could service two, three, or even four men at once. Double penetration? It had never even entered my mind. But from that moment forward, and to this day, nearly 100% of my fantasy life has been dominated by such scenarios. I've spent every years since that fateful afternoon dumpster dive trying to realize those fantasies.

My fantasies did evolve somewhat over time. Sometimes I would imagine being one of two or three men plowing a pretty young hottie. Sometimes I would masturbate while imagining a gang-bang scene where the girl took ten or twenty men, one or two at a time, while the others watched and masturbated. I think, for me, part of the allure was the edginess of a woman dividing her attention between multiple men -- one woman and two cocks just seemed twice as exciting as one woman with one cock.

More than that, though, the exhibitionism of it titillated me to distraction. I had been raised to think of sex as, if not quite shameful, at least something completely private. So initially, the thought of a woman baring her naked body to a room full of men drove me wild. It seemed so brazen. So lurid. So captivating. Over time I also started to insert myself into those thoughts. The thought of being one of the watchers delighted me. The thought of being watched thrilled me. And the thought of being watched while fucking and getting fucked were equally and overwhelmingly exciting. I have no idea whether all voyeurs are also exhibitionists, but I guess I am.

My subsequent pursuit of this kind of porn -- MFM, group sex, gang bang -- led me down related pathways. It was only a matter of time before I discovered bisexual porn, and my fantasies then grew to include sucking dick -- especially a dick just withdrawn from a pussy. The thought of licking my lover's juices off another man's cock, wow! Even today that still that gets me hard.

I was inexperienced and nervous at that age, though. The arousal that bi-male porn elicited in me made me paranoid that I might be gay, and that terrified me. I realized over time, however, that every one of my fantasies that included men also revolved around pussy. And the sight of a naked girl continued to arouse me -- almost any naked girl. Pussy seemed magical and powerful, and it absolutely fascinated me. So, I was pretty sure I wasn't gay. Now, in my mid-twenties, I know that there's nothing wrong with being gay, and there was no reason for me to fear it. And regardless, I'm not gay. "Heteroflexible," "bi-curious," "open minded," even "bisexual" -- I'm comfortable with any of those labels.

Another consistent aspect of my fantasies was this: in my imagination, the girls in these scenes were never just random females. What really got me off was imagining that it was my girlfriend who was sharing her body with, and lusting for, all that other cock. But no matter how much dick my fantasy girl took, at the end of the day, she came home with me. Finding a girl, a woman I guess, one whom I could love, one who would enthusiastically fuck other men with me, one who would always be my primary partner and I hers -- finding that lover became my life's work.

In high school and college, I never had any problem finding girlfriends. I lost my virginity at sixteen -- I think that's fairly typical. But only rarely did I ever share my fantasies with those girls. Mostly I kept my thoughts to myself. I would fuck my girlfriends with my eyes pinched closed, and I would imagine them servicing a room full of dicks. When I did share my fantasies, it usually went badly. Most girls were not interested even in hearing about such debauchery, let alone engaging in it. The girls who did enjoy dirty talk about threesomes and groups always made clear that, for them, it was just a fantasy. It was something they could enjoy talking about while we screwed, but nothing they could ever imagine acting out in real life. That was disappointing at the time, but in retrospect, was not bad start.

When I was an undergrad, I had a brief relationship with a girl who claimed that she wanted to pursue my fantasies with me. I thought I had lucked out. At her instigation, we went to a bar and picked up a drunk horny frat boy to have a threesome with us. Don't get me wrong- the threesome was amazing. Spit-roasting that chick was as close to realizing my dreams as I had come. Sadly, the girl was neither loyal nor trustworthy, and as it turned out, she wasn't really all that interested in me. After seeing the frat boy behind my back, she broke up with me and dated him for a while. Then she cheated on him before dumping him for one of his frat brothers -- at least that was what I heard. Getting dumped by her, I had probably dodged a bullet.

I should mention that another challenge for me was my ethnicity. I am Taiwanese. White Americans, I learned young, think that most Asian men are weak, passive, and have small dicks. None of that is true in general, and none of it is true of me. But dating white women -- who constituted most of the women around me -- was fraught because of these stereotypes. If I gave voice to my fantasies, they'd think I wanted to be a cuckold. That wasn't accurate.

I never wanted a girlfriend who would sleep around behind my back. Nor did I want one who would fuck other men in front of me while humiliating or emasculating me. That was not my kink. I wanted a woman who would fuck other men *with* me. I wanted a girl who wanted to watch and to be watched. I wanted an intimate partner in crime.

I had started to think I would never find that dream girl. Then I met Jun. When I first encountered her, Jun was a nineteen-year-old sophomore. She was lithe and lean, with sexy hips and big sexy eyes. She was sassy and forward. I loved her energy. Unfortunately, she was a student in the Chemistry 101 class for which I was the Teaching Assistant. As such, dating her was absolutely prohibited. She knew that and I knew that.

Still, Jun flirted with me relentlessly. She would come to my office hours in short skirts and thin shirts, her nipples pointing at me like arrows. I swear on multiple occasions she wasn't wearing panties. I struggled to keep my eyes up where they belonged. I admit, the temptation was fierce. I'd be explaining electron valences to her, but in my mind I imagined throwing Jun on the desk, ripping her clothes off, and fucking her until she screamed.

After the chemistry course ended and we were finally able to start dating, she told me how impressed she had been that I never took her bait. I guess she thought I was playing hard to get. Truth is, I really had no choice. I was the first person in my family to attend graduate school. I was a good Asian son, my parents were proud of me, and my studies were going very well. There was no way in hell I would have put my PhD or my scholarships at risk. Still, if Jun took my restraint as a positive, far be it for me to disillusion her.

Our initial challenge was that we had no place to fuck. Jun still lived with her conservative Chinese parents in a small house. Despite my lurid imagination, my TA office wasn't really viable: glass door, no lock, way too public. My dorm room wasn't much better. I shared a tiny suite with three other chemistry grad students. People were always around. It wasn't very tidy. Nothing about it said "love nest." Having no better option, Jun and I still did have sex in the dorm a couple of times. The venue wasn't ideal, but the experiences were encouraging.

Jun, I quickly discovered, was a nasty little freak of the very best kind. She was vocal and active -- she knew what she liked, and she didn't hesitate to tell me. She'd engage in dirty talk. She told me to press my thumb up her ass when I took her from behind. Never before had I had such a playful and uninhibited lover -- it was great. She was great.

Jun was also happy to accommodate anything at all I wanted. Although, frankly, in those early days I was only articulating pretty vanilla fantasies. You can't bust out the gang bang scenario on a second date. But, the second time she came to my dorm room, I told Jun to get on the floor and suck me off with her ass facing the full-length mirror on the door. While she sucked and stroked my cock I described her drippy pussy and told her how amazing it would feel to fuck her with someone else's cock in her mouth. She must've liked that, because instead of recoiling, and before I even had a chance to come in her mouth, she climbed up onto me and fucked me in my desk chair. "Whose cock?" She asked me.

The next week Jun blew me in her dad's car. Given her age, her technique was surprisingly skillful. She swirled her tongue in circles around the head of my cock while stroking it with her hand and taking it nearly to the back of her throat. When I came, she sucked like a Hoover and swallowed every last drop. Once again -- shitty venue, but it was the best blow job I had ever had.

Jun and I limped along like this -- spending a lot of time together but rarely fucking -- for literally months. It was driving me nuts. Her too. But what could we do?

Then came one of the most fortuitous moments of my life. Just as fortuitous as that stack of magazines I had found years earlier. More, even.

I was at Starbucks with one of the other grad students, a white kid named Chip. We were just getting coffee before class, as we often did.

"Dude!" Chip whispered at me as we stood there tearing open sugar packets and stirring them into our cups. "Do you know who that is?"

I turned my head to look behind me, thinking there must be a celebrity or an athlete in our little campus Starbucks.

"Don't look!" Chip hissed.

"How am I supposed to tell you if I know who it is if I can't look at them?" I asked, articulating the obvious.

"Look when we leave. That old guy sitting alone behind you -- that's Paul Macintosh!" Chip whispered.

"Who the hell is Paul Macintosh?" I asked.

"Let's go -- I'll tell you outside." Chip answered.

We finished amending our coffee and exited. I peeked over my shoulder and saw a short fat bearded old man sitting alone and enjoying a cup of coffee and a New York Times crossword. He seemed completely unremarkable.

"Paul Macintosh," Chip continued, "is the GOAT! Legend has it that he has the largest cock in human history -- like Guinness Book of World Records big."

"That's a weird thing to be famous for." I responded.

"No, listen!" Chip continued. "The story I heard is that he picks up undergraduate girls and seduces them with his giant schwantz. Sometimes couples too. He's freaky! I think he might be bi. He's a fucking machine and has been for years!"

"Why would you think that? How do you know any of this?" I asked incredulously.

"My roommate a couple of years ago was friends with a guy who told him that he and his girlfriend had met Paul and they ended up having three-ways with him for months. Spitroasting, DP -- all the nasty stuff." Paul expounded. "And the guy wanted to break it off, but the girl was so in love with the horse cock that she made him keep going back for more. Eventually they split up because of it, but she still kept seeing the Mac."

"That's a crazy story!" I said, trying to disguise my interest. When Chip mentioned threesomes, I felt my stomach tighten and my cock stir.

"That's not the half of it. My roommate said that the guy takes new lovers constantly. When one graduates or moves away he seduces the next one. Sometimes he has more than one at the same time. They're always young and drop-dead gorgeous. Just goes to show ya." Chip said.

"Just goes to show you what?" I inquired.

"You can't judge a book by its cover -- who would think that that little troll was banging all the hottest snatch on campus?" Chip clarified.

"Yeah, I suppose. I certainly wouldn't." I offered. "I wouldn't even have noticed him if you hadn't pointed him out. He really floats beneath the radar, I guess."

"Right?" Chip agreed. "Oh hey -- one more salient detail I heard: he'll bang any sexy young hottie, but he has a weakness for Asian girls. You'd better keep that Jun of yours away from him!" Chip laughed.

"I know, right?" I responded with a nervous chuckle. But, to myself, I was thinking 'I wonder what the world's largest cock would look like packed into my Jun.'

That very day, I began to formulate a plan. I would check out that Starbucks every day and see if the man was there. Then I would take Jun out for coffee, sit near him, and see if I could reel him in. It was a hail Mary shot, but if the stories Chip had heard were true, maybe Jun was exactly the kind of bait for which the old man would fall.

I executed the plan to perfection. Every day for nearly two weeks I bought a coffee at that Starbucks. Every day, Paul Macintosh (if that's who he was) occupied the same seat, sitting alone, sipping a coffee, and reading the New York Times. Then I invited Jun for coffee, and deliberately sat right next to the man, with Jun facing him. I hoped that the little troll would be as drawn to Jun's gorgeous countenance as I had been. And after Jun and I sat, I deliberately initiated a conversation about our sexually frustrating living arrangements -- not loudly enough to be obvious, but just loudly enough that I was pretty sure the man could hear us talking.

My scheme could not have worked more perfectly. Like a moth to a flame, Paul swooped in. He was surprisingly subtle. He was polite and friendly. Not the slightest bit pushy. He offered us the use of his apartment, and things progressed from there.

At no point did Paul suggest even that he wanted to watch us, let alone join us, or have his way with my Jun. He let us think that all of that was our idea. It was our idea, I guess, as far as that goes. But I knew that it was also his.

Paul played it so slowly I thought we'd never get to the next level. Jun and I fucked in his bed while he watched for weeks -- WEEKS -- without Paul ever making a move or stretching a boundary. 'This guy is smooth! And patient!' I thought to myself, time and again. 'I could learn from him.'

His patience was vexing. It got to the point where I thought nothing more would ever happen. I had to take the reins and push our relationship to the next level.

For close to two months Jun and I had fucked under Paul's lusty gaze while he sat in the corner and stroked that monster cock of his and came all over his fur-covered belly. (To be fair -- Paul's was not the largest cock on earth: I've seen bigger in porn; but it was very large. Very.) Finally, one day after one of our standard trysts, I quickly dressed and lied that I had a work emergency and had to bolt. Jun always liked to hang around naked after we fucked for Paul, and I figured that giving the two of them some naked-and-alone time might finally induce Paul to make a move. I figured right.

Jun told me about it later. Paul had continued to play coy even after I left. He didn't try to bang her. He didn't even try to get her to touch his big old hairy schlong. But he got to taste Jun's come, he they showered together. He massaged her soapy butt. More importantly, Jun confessed to me that she imagined getting fucked by him, and when I reacted with enthusiasm rather than jealousy, she countered with excitement rather than anger. The die had been cast. I knew that our next encounter would be different. If only I had known how different!

My bucket list got so much shorter the next time we visited Paul! He fucked Jun's pretty little mouth (sort of -- it didn't really fit), while I took her from behind. Even more amazing, Paul fucked Jun while I licked her clit, and the two of us made her come buckets, before he took his cock, slimed with juices from all three of us, and shoved it down my throat. When we finally finished, I dressed and sat on his sofa listening to him fuck Jun's ass in the shower. I was, literally, in heaven.

Over the following weeks, our routines became much more varied. Every once in a while, Paul would still sit in the corner and watch me play with Jun. Just as often, I would sit in the corner and jerk off while Paul fucked Jun on the bed. The combination of Paul's weird gnomish appearance, his huge cock, and Jun's gorgeous body, was unbelievably arousing to me. I enjoyed those days.

Most times, though, all three of us played. Paul and I would often spit roast Jun. Now knowing that even her tight little butt could accommodate Paul's girth, Jun was the one who proposed that we try double penetration. It wasn't easy to execute the first time, but over the weeks, we got better at it. Whether I took Jun's ass or her pussy, with Paul's cock in the other hole, it was insanely tight. And through the thin membrane separating us, I could always feel the friction of Paul's cock as he hammered it in and out of my girlfriend. Jun's ecstatic whimpers during these sessions were tantalizing.

Once in a while, Paul and I would play and let Jun watch. In those encounters, Paul and I would usually sixty-nine on the bed. Sometimes Jun would sit in the chair, spread her legs, and watch us. Other times she'd cup my balls as I fucked Paul's mouth, or cup Paul's as he fucked mine. I was not prepared to be impaled on Paul's huge cock, and he wasn't into bottoming either. But other than that, two or sometimes three days per week, the three of us did almost everything that two men and one woman can do together in Paul's bed.

Throughout this time, Jun and I only grew closer and fell more and more deeply in love with one another. We were a rare pair of freaks who had found both their soulmates and their dream playmate. It was a magical time.