I woke up, totally naked, lying awkwardly on my stomach. As my eyes adjusted to the morning light, I knew innately that something intense had happened earlier during the night. It wasn't until I gained full consciousness that my dazed confusion subsided. The night before, my work done, I'd collapsed into an exhausted, sweaty sleep. I'd passed out in the middle of two equally naked men.
After an uncomfortable few minutes, somewhere around 4 am, we all recognized at once that there wasn't enough room for the three of us on a single mattress. One of them had evidently arbitrarily decided to lead me to a nearby sofa and to retire again to the bed.
I could have been annoyed that I was the odd man out, but for the moment I was simply too preoccupied with what I was hearing to care. Rolling over onto my side, I heard the unmistakable sounds of sex. As the blur gave way to greater focus, I found myself in full view of the same two men who had formerly been my partners.
The more energetic and forceful of the two had described himself at the outset as the bad gay. I wasn't sure what he meant by that at first, but it wouldn't take long before I knew what an apt description his self-assigned nickname really was. He leered at me, erect cock in hand, climbing onto to another hot body in this nihilistic trifecta.
"Watch as I wake him up," he said, with a smirk.
The good gay opened his eyes immediately, as if electrocuted, discovering all at once that he had his boyfriend's cock buried in his ass. I got the feeling that this wasn't the first time. The show had been clearly put on for my benefit, but I doubted that I was the first, nor even the last threesome member to have been granted the courtesy.
Draping the boy's scrawny legs over his shoulders, the bad gay started vigorous strokes. I saw a look of slight reluctance on the face of the good gay, but mostly it was annoyance. The top kept smirking, with every slap of thighs against ass, looking my way periodically as if he was on camera and I was the lens.
The sight was very arousing. It felt as though I was viewing a sex tape, one recorded for my private enjoyment. I'd had the bad gay's cock inside me only a little while earlier, and I knew what it felt like. I wanted to give it another ride.
Savoring the memory, I remember how I'd impatiently rolled over on my back with my legs in the air. From long-practiced habit, he vigorously thrust up me.
"Ughhh..."
The sensation took my voice and my breath away at the same time. Damn, he was good at this. Most gay boys are so timid with fucking, but not the bad gay. If this was the absolute best I was going to get in the course of one lifetime, I wouldn't have been disappointed. I have had worse, much worse.
Before I knew it, he'd pounced on me like a tiger. My back slid roughly against the bristly carpeting and I knew I'd have crazy friction burns to deal with the next day. But I didn't care. His mouth was on my mouth. His tongue was on my tongue. And his cock was thrusting in and out of me. It was perfect. I was physically dominated and sexually satisfied at once.
But that had been last night. Today, this instant, the good gay was getting very close to obligingly blowing his load. I saw the muscles in his cock contract and spasm the moment before he did. He didn't shoot so much as dribble, the stickiness caught in his close-cropped pubic hair. But the effect was all I wanted. My imagination could supply the rest.
I wanted to be next.
The good gay, the bottom, flashed me a look of great jealousy. One could tell he never got fucked like I'd been last night, or at least not anymore. Being a glorified voyeur wasn't enough for him. He sulked away into a corner, licking his wounds.
