The Exchange Student

"Do you think we'll ever get him to do it, Alex?" Max asked. He moved his palm over the basket of his Speedo and made adjustments for what was expanding in there.

"I doubt it, Max," I answered. Turning onto my side on my chaise lounge, sitting close to his, beside the pool. I reached over and ran my hand under the waistband of his drying bathing suit. I found what I was searching for and pulled it out of his Speedo and fondled it while Max leaned over and gave me a deep kiss.

When we came up for air, I looked over across the pool, where Miguel, the pool boy, was raking the surface for debris with a long-handled pool rake. I wanted to see if he had his eye on us. And he did. Pretty good, I thought, for two fifty-something geezers. Both Max and I worked hard on our bodies. You don't run a highly profitable hands-on construction company from the front lines without keeping yourself in good shape. Max and I did it all—from adjusting architectural drawings to constructing the houses to decorating and furnishing them. And we did it as a couple—as a committed couple—and had been doing it that way for over twenty-five years. And no one—not the clients nor our contractors nor the guys we hired to work with us—most of whom were just like us—ever had a thing nasty to say about it—at least not to our faces.

We'd built up a good business, lived in a mansion, and had no trouble hiring a pool boy who was happy to take cock from us. It's just that this one wasn't coming around to taking us both at once—which was our favorite fetish.

"It would be so nice if he'd do it," Max murmured. "Nice young guy like that; great butt. Luscious brown body and beefy dick."

"Yeah, but he's been pretty definite about it," I answered. "Takes us separately well enough."

"Just not quite 'it,' you know."

"Yep. But speaking of which, do you think this Thai exchange student we're scheduled to pick up tomorrow will—"

"Said he would in the e-mails. That hookup service claimed to match us up with what we wanted."

"Yeah, still . . . claiming something just to get to the States is one thing and delivery is something else."

"Yeah, Chances are he won't even show. Well, we'll know tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he'll lead us on like Miguel here just to spin out how long he can stay in the States."

Max sighed and stretched out on his chaise as I slow-pumped him to a more-than-respectable length and girth.

"Is he watching us?" he asked, his voice getting thick with want.

"Yes." I answered. "And he looks interested. The way he's holding that pole but watching us rather than what he's doing, I wouldn't be surprised if he fell in."

"And then we could fight for who went into the pool to save him?" Max answered with a laugh. The laugh turned to a long moan, though, as I dipped my head down to his pelvis and let my lips open over the head of his cock and my tongue flicker at his piss slit.

It was quiet for a couple of minutes other than the low slurping and gurgling sound I was making and the moans Max was emitting as I closed my mouth over his cock and pulled him deep inside me. I had cupped his balls in my hand, and I squeezed gently and deep-throated him and held it there. Max was gasping and raising his hips to my face, and I felt the fingers of both of his hands run into my hair as he held my head steady, his throbbing cock buried to the root in my throat. I held until I felt a gag coming on and then I retreated—but only until my lips were covering just his cock bulb—and I applied pressure and flicked at his piss slit with my tongue.

Between gasps and jerks of his pelvis and the bunching of his fists in my hair, Max muttered all of the things a man will when he's getting a good blow job, and then his groans started again as I slowly swallowed him whole for a second time and held there as long as my gag reflex would allow. The third time I did this, Max lurched and cried out.

"Oh god. You do that one more time and I'll come."

I did it again, but, although he jerked and gasped as before, he didn't come.

"Liar," I said, as I came up off his cock. And then I laughed and turned my head to see what Miguel was doing, and, sure enough, the pool rake had been dropped into the water and he was standing there, sort of crouched down a bit, his eyes bug eyed and trained on what I was doing to Max across the pool. He had the front of his baggy swim trunks pulled down under his ball sac and his plump brown cock in his fist.

"You want to come or do you want to do Miguel?" I turned my head back to Max's face and whispered. "He looks about ready for it."

"We could try again," Max whispered back.

"OK. Let's give it a go. No reason not to try. You do the setup."

I pulled away from Max and rummaged around in the gym bag next to my chaise and fished out a couple of condom packets. I held them up for Miguel to see and gestured to Max. Miguel stripped off his swimming trunks, and by the time he had walked over to the diving board and leaned over it with his hands gripping the side of the board, Max was up and crouched behind him and working between the young hunk's butt cheeks with his tongue and fingers.

I laid back and pulled my cock out of my Speedo and pleasured myself to greater length and thickness as I watched my beautiful, full-muscled, gray-haired man arching Miguel's head back with a fist in his black curly hair as he pumped the Latin's ass hard with his thick cock.

After a while of this, Max leaned over and whispered something in Miguel's ear and must have gotten the response he wanted, because he changed positions with Miguel. Max was now lying flat on his back on the diving board and Miguel was straddling his pelvis with his hips, facing him, and riding his cock.

Max turned his head to me and smiled, and I understood what he was suggesting. Rising from my chaise, still fisting my cock, I stripped my Speedo off and then approached the fucking pair from the rear.

I stood over Max's thighs, straddling the land end of the diving board and moved my hands around under Miguel's armpits and latched onto his nipple rings. Nicely brown bodied and tightly muscled, he had an intriguing swirl-effect tattoo all on one side of his torso that led down from the hollow of his neck on one side and covered his shoulder and biceps and ran down his side, ending in a snake tail pointing down from his navel to a very nice appendage that now was encased in one of Max's fists.

I brought my lips to the hollow of Miguel's neck where the tattoo started and nibbled him there, and he groaned in acceptance and raised his tattooed arm and cupped the back of my head. I was pinching and prodding his nipples and pulling at his nipple rings, and I held my cock against the small of his back and let the rhythm of the rise and fall of his own pelvis in countermotion to the fucking of Max's cock inside him raise friction between my cock and the small of his back.

I moved the fingers of one hand down to his entrance and inserted them on either side of Max's moving cock, leaving little doubt what direction we were headed here.

For the briefest moment I thought it was going to work. I had Miguel pitched a bit forward toward Max's chest and I was moving my cock head down along the small of his back toward my goal—and Miguel was breathing hard and moaning.

But then he was muttering opposition and wriggling around and saying, "No, no. One at a time."

And not wanting to force the issue, I just stopped and held there, holding him in place as Max's thrusts became more rapid and deeper. I turned Miguel's face to me and captured his lips until he pulled away with a cry and creamed Max's chest, followed soon thereafter with Max lurching and filling a condom inside Miguel.

And then Max came out from underneath Miguel, and we turned Miguel on his back on the board and Max splayed himself over Miguel's body. They sixty-nined noisily as I crouched between Miguel's spread thighs and fucked him to my completion in the wake of Max's visitation there.

Miguel left quite pleased; as always we tipped really, really well for extra pool service. But I, for one, wasn't completely satisfied. And I didn't think Max was either.

We were hoping for better the next day when Max and I both appeared at the international arrivals area of the airport all showered and slicked up and trembling in anticipation.

It had been Max who had found the "seniors" Web site on the Internet that was a Southeast Asian-based one and provided a meeting ground for "seeking" men. And both Max and I understood that nearly all of the young guys—mostly Thai because of the origin of the site—posting there were looking for a sugar daddy to get them to a promised land—preferably the United States. Digging deep into the site, Max discovered a service it was claiming to run—called an exchange student program. Anyone who would front the money to get a young Thai guy into the States with enough evidence he was coming there to study at a college—plus would help him get enrolled—could have the services the two mutually agreed to—for a nice finder's fee, of course.

Max and I had plenty of money to burn, so we thought, what the hell, we'd give it a go for the right services.

We went over the profiles of all of the presentable young-looking guys and narrowed our choice to a solid, husky, handsome guy named Dao. A good part of why we picked him was because he said he bottomed, was interested in men between 50 and 70 (a sure sign of a hunt for a sugar daddy), and that he enjoyed "group" and experimentation.

We started a correspondence with him through the Web site's chat room and exchanged more pictures—his photos showing more intimate poses than the ones connected to his profile, and we being careful to always both be in the photos we sent him including nude shots and our full erections. Eventually, we got down to "will you take double?"

After his "no problem" response, we were off getting him enrolled in the local community college that would take anything that was breathing as long as it had the up-front tuition fee. And then we were negotiating with the folks behind the service, who, of course took an enormous up-front cut and then another cut off all of the legal and documentation fees to get Dao into the States on a student visa and cleared to live with an American family under an exchange student program. Everyone understood that there would be some exchange of services for hosting the exchange student—but the authorities had no need to be told that those services involved the "student's" spread ass.

When the customs area at the airport was emptying out, Max and I got a double surprise. All along we'd both thought this just wasn't going to happen—that it was a con—but the whole idea had made us hard and the great fucks we gave each other while contemplating it were well worth the expense—it had rejuvenated our sex life. So, our first surprise was that there was a young Thai guy coming out of Customs and signaling at the sign we were waving with "Dao Chula." on it. (There hadn't been room to run the tongue-twisting Chulalakornampat segment of his name.)

The second surprise—although we should have taken that possibility into account too—was that Dao wasn't the robust Dao of the pictures he'd sent. He was a very nice-looking young man, but he couldn't have been much over five feet tall and he was as thin and willowy as a seedling.

He smiled bravely and just looked at us with a confused "I don't speak English" look on his face as, trying not to look too dismayed and angry, we attempted to sort out that we had every right to expect something else—a strong, broad-hipped guy able to soldier two cocks at once.

We had been duped. Not in any of the ways we had contemplated, but in a way we should have thought of. Internet posters do the "bait and switch" thing with photos all of the time. The joke was on us, and we'd assumed it might be, so Max and I quickly recovered—we'd already agreed that it would make a good story for the other guys in our circle of friends no matter what happened. It was too late in the day to reticket Dao on the spot, so we decided to just take him home and make the return travel arrangements the next day. We'd have an expensive laugh over it, but that didn't mean we'd send him to school or give him a free pass into the States. Besides, he was a cute little piece. Unless he lied about everything, we'd each give him a ride that night for a return on our investment—unless, of course, he'd lied about taking cock as well.

Once back in the house, we showed Dao the room where he could spend the night—but just one night, we tried to make clear. He wandered down the upstairs hall, looking into bedrooms and baths, with that "I've died and gone to heaven" look in his face. We left him reveling in one night of the American dream, and I went downstairs and into the kitchen to start up the celebration dinner we had planned to either mark how clever we'd been or to cover our defeat in style. Following behind me, Max, muttering his disappointment, grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge in the kitchen and then went out onto the sun porch that overlooked the swimming pool and our expansive backyard.

It was about twenty minutes latter that I first heard the sounds. I thought Max had turned on the TV out on the porch or popped in one of those porn movies we kept handy to help put our new conquests in the mood. But the sounds didn't stop, and they intruded into my attention while moving around and slicing this and putting that into the oven.

And I finally walked out to the porch to see what Max was doing.

Max was sprawled in one of the deep-cushioned rattan chairs pointed out toward the pool. Naked as a jaybird. His legs were bowed wide and his arms were hanging loosely down toward the floor over the arms of the chair. His head was slung back, resting on the back edge of the chair. The expression in his face conveyed sheer ecstasy.

Straddling his hips, also naked, and riding Max's cock like a rodeo champion was the thin, willowy Dao. He was looking as happy to be there as Max was.

I looked on, astonished, as Dao lifted himself nearly the whole length of Max's extra-long cock and then slammed down again in a repeated move that seemingly would take Max's dick bulb up under the diminutive Thai's chin.

Seeing me, Max opened his mouth and, after emitting a long, drawn-out moan of supreme satisfaction, muttered, "Nothing wrong with his English. Told me in no uncertain terms that he could take us both together. Swears—and fucks—like a sailor."

And he was absolutely right. I was stripped in record time and not long afterward, crouched between Max's spread legs and behind the little Thai's back, I had raised his buttocks in the palms of my hands and pressed my cock head to his entrance above the root of Max's cock—and discovered that Dao was as juicy and loose as a goose and I could slide right in along Max's cock. I think I could have gotten another cock in there if we had one handy. This Thai guy certainly was well prepared.

Max gave a gasp and another long moan as I slid in along his tool, and our faces met over Dao's tiny shoulder and we kissed as our cocks made love to each other at the same time as they made love to Dao's slack channel. Dao was there, but Max and I were making love to each other.

Later, as we were taking seconds, Max and I both standing in the center of the porch and sandwiching and working Dao's supple little body between us as he encircled my waist with his legs, Dao's sing-song voice broke into our harmony of sighs.

"Dao is good?" he asked, almost plaintively. "You keep Dao here and I go to school."

"Yes, Dao is very good," Max whispered after letting loose of my lips with his. "You can certainly stay. But the photographs—"

"Would you have invited Dao to come if I sent true pictures?" Dao's voice sounded dubious, and rightfully so.

"No, I suppose not," Max answered. And he started to laugh, but I felt his cock shudder alongside mine inside Dao's channel, and I knew he was ejaculating yet again. I had been holding myself back, but let it flow then—and all three of us moaned together.

"That was my friend Amphorn in pictures," Dao murmured in a low tone. "He would like to go to school in America too. Maybe—?"

"Uh, I don't know, Dao, we—"

"Amphorn takes two cocks one time too. Amphorn also gives extra-special-good blow job. Amphorn very, very good."

"We'll start the paperwork tomorrow," Max answered with a big grin.

The only regret we had that day was that I let dinner get charred to ash.