It started in fall of 1990. Robert and I were both college students and we had some classes together. I had a crappy dorm room, so we'd party at Robert's apartment. We just kind of hit it off as buddies.
Robert's apartment always looked like a bomb had just gone off. We'd hang out and smoke weed and drink beer together, maybe watch some TV. Get drunk. Sometimes I would crash on his couch too drunk to drive back to the dorm. He was a real Texan, tall, tanned and lithe. He always had the latest Hustler and other fuck mags he liked to flip through with me as we got high. We'd laugh and make stupid comments about the silly porn poses.
Naturally, we would both become sexually aroused, being healthy young men. I'd snatch furtive glances at the huge bulge in Robert's jeans. Robert like to brag about what a lady's man he was, grabbing his crotch while boasting about his cock size. I often thought about saying, "oh, yeah, well, let me see what you are packing Mr. Stud" Sadly, Robert seemed so straight I didn't dare hit on him.
The ironic thing was that Hustler and some of the other skin mags showed a lot of great photos of cock sucking, double penetration and always ended in a gorgeous money shot of cum-dripping cocks next to some babe's spunk splashed quim or face. Robert never saw the irony of us straight bros getting raging tents in our jeans together while looking at beautiful cum spurting dongs. He only saw the babe slurping on the erection, not the erection itself. Me? I saw the dick, alright.
Robert would pull a skin mag out and say some shit like, "look at this one, Tony, goddamn it, I want to fuck that bitch!" He'd toss the open skin mag over to me and it would be some hot Euro babe sucking two gorgeous cocks, veiny arched bones slick with her spittle.
Yeah, the babe was hot, but so were the guys' 8-inch boners! When I jacked off to porn like that, I fantasized about fucking the babe too, but would also fantasize about helping the babe suck the guys' boners. All Robert and I ever did was joke about the cocks; it was the babes we were supposed to be getting aroused by.
The cock-laced straight porn finally caught me out one night when I pointed out the cognitive dissonance of Hustler, a skin mag for a totally straight male audience showing all these really hot guys with large, lovely erections fucking hot babes. I enthused to Robert that it aroused me seeing big hung cocks with babes. We were a bit drunk.
"You know these hung motherfucking studs are turning me on too...just sayin'," I added quickly, "I could totally fuck a babe like that with another guy. It'd be like being in a real porno flick." I instantly regretted sharing that, blushing.
Robert paused, gave me a sideways look and said, "Uh, huh, I thought so." He knocked back his tall boy and asked me if I wanted another. "Sure." He brought me a cold one back from his filthy frig. I was thinking: shit, shit, shit.
"Well, wouldn't you fuck a babe like that in a threesome?" I added, belatedly, a bit sheepishly.
"Tony, can you keep a secret," he said as he handed me a beer and sat down looking serious.
"Sure," I said, as I fumbled nervously with the pages of an old Penthouse centerfold that were stuck together with dried...something.
"Look, I don't want this to get around at school, OK?" His voice lowered conspiratorially.
"OK, sure, my lips are sealed," I promised. "Scout's honor."
"Seriously?" He asked, "Seriously," I said, wondering what was up.
He got up and went over to a drawer and pulled out a crumpled copy of a mag I'd seen before at the adult bookstore: 'Texas Swinger's Monthly.' He tossed it on the table.
In the age before the Internet, people into kinky shit hooked up via personal ads in magazines like TSM. The magazine had a glossy cover featuring the "Swingers of The Month" but inside every page was newspaper print black and white personal ads with mostly disgusting amateur photos of cocks, cunts, ass and tits.
"Open to page six," Robert directed... So, I did. There was a small ad circled with a pencil. "Go on, read it," he said.
"Single, young, clean, super-stud, 9-inch erection, great staying power, huge cumloads, 6' 2", blonde, cute. Looking for good-looking, clean couples, single ladies, threesomes, moresomes, older OK, can serve as bull for wife, party-animal, versatile, curious husbands OK to watch or join in. Must be able to entertain. Send good photos."
Next to the ad was a black and white Polaroid image of a rather thick, clean cut and long erection, slightly over-exposed by the flash.
"Holy fuck, man! You took out a swinger's ad?" I choked on my beer.
"Yup. And it works too."
"Well, you're right about 'must be able to entertain', you sure as fuck couldn't bring a pack of hot swingers back to this pigsty, could you?" I commented nonchalantly as I nodded at a roach climbing up the wall.
Robert pulled some Polaroids and letters out of the drawer and tossed them to me. They were invitations that couples had sent him, along with naked photos of the wife and often the husband too, sometimes fucking, sometimes sucking or just spread eagle. It was fucking filthy and so hot. The real fucking deal. As he went through the Polaroids with me he told me about some of his adventures in rather graphic detail.
I was so turned on, I started rubbing my crotch and snorted, "man, this sort shit really turns me on. I could fucking jerk off right now."
"I feel like jerking off too," Robert said. "Flop it out, dude. Just don't cum on my couch!" As if one more stain on that couch could possibly matter. I rubbed my cock through my jeans, but didn't flop it out, while Robert continued to show me Polaroids of wives he had fucked as the husbands watched, took pictures and joined in. I was gobsmacked.
We had another beer as Robert described the most recent and hottest couple, he was having regular threesomes with. "They love my cock, man... ahem, together like...the both of 'em," Robert hinted, watching me to see if I was catching his drift. I was indeed.
"Look, here's the deal," he tossed me Polaroids of a cute blow-dried brunette with perky tits sucking her husband's hard-on. "They want me to bring over a friend to join the fun. You know, one for each hole. The wife is a babe, ain't she? You up for it? The husband is a bit older but in good shape. Only catch is you gotta be game for playing around, you dig?"
"Oh, yeah, I am so game. Dude. You are on!" I gave him a high five.
"Look, I'm not sure you get what I mean. If you want to party with this couple and me, you're gonna have to be well, how do I say it? Know your place," Robert said.
