I Owe It All To Daylight Savings Time - Part Two free porn video

I OWE IT ALL TO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME PART TWO By Katharine Sexkitten I rode all the way home with another raging hard-on. And cum in my shorts. Cum in my panties. Cum running down my legs. Cum everywhere. One delicious stream managing to find its way into my ass crack, and sliding towards my asshole, tickling it with liquid sensations. It made me think that cum was meant to be going in there. Which I'd never considered before. People couldn't help but see my obvious little stiffy, and the cum stain in my sky-blue bike shorts. If they got close enough, they must have seen the rivulets of cum on my skin too. They undoubtedly could have smelled it. My cum has a heady, musky odor to it, and my lower extremities were drenched in it! I smelled profoundly delicious, profoundly sexual. Under normal circumstances, I would have been beside myself with embarrassment, and with fear. But all I could think about was that I'd just witnessed, and in some way been a part of, the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. Ever considered. Ever knew existed. Real and raw passion. Real and raw sexuality. Real and raw love- making. I texted Anthony when I got back to my apartment and told him I wasn't feeling well, and let's get together another time. He texted me back with the hope that I was feeling better soon, and how sad they were for their day, but that they'd see me next weekend for sure, and to text them if I needed anything. Anything at all. Anything. I didn't know what I needed. Or wanted. I was so confused, and bewildered. And aroused. And more turned on than I'd ever known possible. I wasn't gay. I'd never seriously thought about gay sexuality at all. And yet I wanted what they had. I knew that much. I wanted that level of intimacy, that level of sensuality. That level of joy, intense passionate joy. And I wanted to be on the bottom. It was obvious to me, and natural to me. Of course. I wasn't Stefan, big and manly and rugged and rippling with masculinity. I knew, more than I knew anything else in my entire existence on this planet, that I wanted what Anthony had. I wanted to be receiving that passion, that glorious masculinity, that amazing cock. I wanted that cock. Well, I wanted cock. That one was already taken. And then I thought that perhaps pigs were flying, since I had just said the words "I wanted cock" to myself, something up until today I never ever would have thought. I wanted to be loved like that. I wanted to return love like that. I wanted to be the recipient of all that manly meat. And I wanted that meat to be so in love with being inside me that the man attached to it would do anything for me. And I wanted to be dressed like Anthony. I mean, how fucking sexy did he look? Unbelievable. He looked feminine, and enticing, and entrancing and erotic and holy fuck did I want to be all of those things. And how amazing was the look on his face with that HUGE cock in his ass? I mean, his pussy? I grabbed the first thing that I had in my apartment that looked like it might do the trick. A paper towel holder. Ripping my bike shorts down, I rubbed the end of the wooden rod in the ocean of cum, slid my G-string panties to one side of my soaking wet cheek, lined up the end of the dowel-like stick with my virgin hole, and eased it inside. Life as I'd known it disappeared. This sexual act, that I was completely giving myself over to, I innately and immediately understood was without question the meaning of my life. Without question. The motivating factor I'd previously never had in my boring drab barely-there existence. My dull life was over. Right there. Right then. One inch, two inches. Holy fucking shit! Three inches, and then another. HOLY FUCKING SHIT HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!! Two more inches. OH MY FUCKING GOD, IS THIS THE MOST INTENSE FEELING EVER? Another inch or two. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M FUCKING MY OWN ASS WITH A ROD AND I'M FUCKING LOVING IT....SO GOOD....SO GOOD...SO FUCKING GOOD.... I spent almost every waking second for the next five days on a level of excitement I'd never known before. Everything made my little cock hard as steel. Everything. The wind blowing would make me erect and horny and light-headed. When I wasn't working, I was sawing that paper towel holder in and out of my own asshole. My own pussy. Sometimes on my back, with my legs splayed like a slut, and sometimes with me riding it, holding it below me as I bounced up and down, like a cowgirl, riding her stallion. I positioned a mirror so I could watch myself, and thought I'd never seen anything more wonderful than when I was naked except for panties, riding that rod until I blasted out my cum. I was cumming so much and so often that in order to save my clothes I would just pull my little cocklette out of whatever pair of panties I was wearing at that moment, since I was now wearing panties 24/7, cum into my palm, and then drink it all down, in great swallows, licking my palm clean after. It seemed the most natural thing I'd ever done. And after the first time I swallowed my cum, I realized just how much of an ambrosia it is. Cum. Juicy salty viscous cum. Warm and globule and life-giving and amazingly sexy. Cum. I adored it, right from the first taste. The first atom on my tongue was intoxicating. And I knew that I would spend the rest of my life drinking it down. Every time I could produce cum, I'd be swallowing it. So maybe, I began to speculate, it might be even more amazing if it was somebody else's cum? At the same time, my thoughts also became mired in embarrassment. Could I even see Stefan and Anthony again? Could I look them in the eyes, knowing what I know? Having seen what I'd seen? Having experienced what I'd experienced? Could I ever look at Stefan again and NOT see that fantastic missile-like cock of his? Just thinking about it would automatically get my blood boiling, my mouth watering, my pussy hole quaking in anticipation. If I wasn't at home, I'd get there as soon as I could, to lube up my faux penis and then fuck myself with it. Over and over again. Could I look at Anthony and not see his feminine persona? Not see Toni, with an "I"? Could I ride with them, seeing his sweet ass in his spandex bike shorts and not imagine kissing it, licking it, adoring it, worshipping it? Even better, having Stefan kiss and lick and worship mine? But wait! Now I was pushing myself into an established relationship. I thought to myself, NO! That's just stupid! They're obviously in love with each other. Why would either of them even think about me? And why would I interject myself into someone else's relationship? It just isn't done. Is it? No matter. On Friday evening I got a text from Stefan 'hoping to see you tomorrow'. Just seeing his name made my insides quiver a little bit. My cock, on the other hand, didn't do anything a little bit. It became as hard as it has ever been, just like that. One word. One man. One incredibly sexy man. Stefan. Just to think of his name conjured up intense memories of last Sunday. His powerful rippling muscles, moving sinuously in unison every time he pushed his incredible cock into his lover's ass. The tenderness he showed in his soft kisses. The intensity of the look in his eyes as he stared at Anthony, as the smaller man, dressed in the sexiest and sluttiest of lingerie, stared right back, two people lost in each other's eyes, each other's soul, as they made love. As they fucked. As they fucked. Anthony had texted me twice during the week, asking about how I was feeling. I replied to both in as respectful a manner as I could. But I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. They couldn't know I'd watched them, that I'd spied upon them. That I'd betrayed any trust they might have had in me based on our times together in the riding club by purposefully invading their intimate privacy. So I had to play everything cool. I just didn't know how to do that. Or if I was even capable of it. I ended up not going to the Saturday ride. I got a few texts, from other people in the group as well as both Stefan and Anthony, asking where I was, and I let them all know that something work-wise had come up and I couldn't make it. But Sunday was still on. I couldn't think of a good enough reason to beg off of that ride too, without making it look like I was trying to avoid someone. Or two someones. Sunday morning, I purposefully arrived as late as possible. Everybody was already to go, and a few had indeed started by the time I got there, so I huffed and puffed as if I'd been late and was doing my level best to be on time, said a quick hello to everyone, including Stefan and Anthony, who both beamed with delight to see me, and began the ride. I raced ahead of most of the group, staying close to a couple of the university guys and one of the Roberts at first. That in itself wasn't totally unusual, so if anyone asked I could just say I was feeling the need to push myself a little bit today. Most of the ride went well. I managed to get a good workout and avoid conversation with either of them. But Stefan's natural size and athletic ability meant that it didn't take him much effort to catch up with me, which he did at one point. He smiled at me, and I felt my heart go pitter patter. We paced each other for a while, my legs pumping like mad, his barely moving, no words being spoken, just heavy breathing from both of us, although mine was far more labored than his. And just hearing his breathing, similar to how he was panting and moaning while he drove his magnificent cock into Anthony's pussy last week, thrilled me like nothing else. I could see them again, the images in my mind vivid and gloriously sensual. Gripping each other, as they made love. Holding on to each other, as they fucked. Two lovers, unconcerned with everything else on the entire planet, joined in the most intimate of manners, joined at the base of Stefan's cock. Primal. Visceral. The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And something I knew that I never wanted to forget. Ever. The sights and sounds burned into my memory. Burned into my soul. At one of the rest stops, I sucked back about a gallon of water. I was thirsty. Moreso than usual. Stefan and Anthony both manoeuvered themselves so they were physically close to me, as the group dynamics played out. Again, not unusual. We were friends, after all, so it was completely normal. And the banter and jokes and conversations all seemed to be the same as every other weekend. The group seemed to be behaving in its regular way, normality the word of the day. But I felt like perhaps people were staring at me. Certainly the two of them seemed to be, although I kept cautioning myself that I could be dead wrong, and I was just being paranoid. After all, they hadn't seen me. Had they? No, of course not. They were busy at the time. Really busy. Engrossed, to be fair. Their attention was riveted. To each other. To their lover. To their passion. To their love-making. The most beautiful thing I'd ever experienced. Still, was it possible they knew? And worse yet, was it possible they'd shared that information with others? They'd all been in the group together for a lot longer than I'd been there. I was the newbie. The interloper. Maybe everybody knew and accepted that Stefan and Anthony were gay lovers, knew that Anthony could become the most lovely, feminine creature known to mankind, knew that Stefan loved to exert his intoxicating masculinity by pounding his world-class hard-as- granite monster of a cock into Anthony's most delicate and intimate area. Maybe they'd told everybody how I'd spied on them, how I'd been so rude to watch their fucking, like a common and disgusting voyeur. How I'd cum like a geyser inside my bike shorts just watching them. No, I decided. That was silly. Just me being overly insane. Or was it? Could they know? Could people see that I'd changed? Could they know, somehow, that I was different? That what I'd seen had unleashed in me a sexuality I didn't know existed? Could these newfound friends and acquaintances of mine sense somehow in my behavior or my looks that I now spent almost all of my free time sliding a paper-towel rod up my own ass, how I was fucking myself with that wooden dowel with my thong slipped to one side of my hairless, feminine ass, sometimes in front of my dresser mirror, so I could watch that shaft disappear into my own pussy? Of course not, right? At the end of the ride, everybody cooled down. Walking around the parking lot we all met at. Lots of "way to go's" and "good ride" and the like. People milling about, stretching their leg muscles. At one point, Mary Lou commented that all this riding was really doing me good, that I looked great. That I was in great shape. I blushed, as I always did around her. Stefan and Anthony were in the area, cooling off. Stefan chose that moment to walk towards his SUV, his keys dangling in his right hand. He could have moved around a few bikes and walked past me in front, where there was probably a little more room, but instead he skirted his way through and around people and parked bikes so he ended up behind me, moving gingerly so as not to knock into anyone or their bike. That put him close to me, close to my back. Close to my ass. My pantied ass, in my tight blood-red Lycra bike shorts. Which seemed to have a mind of its own, because I stood up straighter, and stuck my bum out a little. Without thinking about it. Why? I only had a second to consider that, but I reasoned it was because I was trying to give him room to get by. Or. Or I was sticking my ass out so he might have to touch me in some way. Just a passing motion, perhaps. A barely-there brush of his hip, a gentle movement of his thigh, something like that. I felt his left hand on my back, his large fingers spreading warmth through my body. Then his hand slid further down, as he was directly behind me, and he cupped my left bum cheek. Then he put some pressure on it, almost grabbed it. Certainly more than a caress. More than an accidental meeting. Intentional. Loving, even. As he continued past me, his head was behind and over mine, and he whispered to me, so that only I could hear. "Great shape, Cary," he cooed, "curvy and sexy as all get out!" Then he was past, and gone. As was his hand. Which made me feel sad, I realized. A few moments later, people began leaving. I was getting ready for my short ride home, looking forward to fucking myself silly with my pretend-cock, when Anthony came up beside me. "You really are looking in great shape, Cary," he said. I thanked him. I felt I couldn't not at least act sociable. I looked into his eyes as I said it, and I saw so many emotions. Friendship, sure. But more. Interest. Desire. Naughtiness. Intrigue. Or was I just projecting? "You should drop by our place on your way home," he continued, while Stefan was loading their bikes onto their bike rack, "to see more of Stefan's photos, like you meant to last weekend." My mind raced for an excuse. Too late in the day? Laundry to do before the work week? Feed the cat? Work project to finish up? "Are you sure it's not an imposition?" I asked. He smiled as he shook his head. "No, of course not. You loved the framed shot, I just know there are lots of other things we can show that you'll absolutely ADORE." The way he said 'adore' was fraught with inferences. And my dirty little mind was conjuring up all sorts of images. Did he mean more pictures? Or something else? Then my paranoia cut in again and I began to think they wanted me over to embarrass me, or accuse me of being a sick pervert, or worse yet, blackmail me. You know, do as we say or we'll out you to your family or your workplace or whatever. Then I thought, no. Those were Hollywood scripts. Not real life. These two guys were not that way. I knew them, from months of riding together. Funny, affectionate, concerned, caring people. Good friends. Stefan seemed to positively glow with delight when he found out I was coming over. The rays of light his eyes were beaming seemed genuine and elated. They offered to thrown my bike in the back and give me a ride, but I said that would be cramped, and I didn't mind riding. Stefan said he'd have time to shower before I got there. Anthony said he'd have time to prepare some snacks. I told them they didn't have to do anything just because I was coming over. They both smiled and said they were looking forward to seeing me. I rode. It was about a twenty minute ride, so I had plenty of time to drive myself insane with questions and answers. It was almost as if the insane part of my brain was in a debate with the not-so-insane part. Did they know? No, of course not, you were more or less hidden from them and they were both pretty focussed on each other. Were they onto my changes, somehow? Don't be an idiot. You only think you look different, but you don't. How can masturbating constantly while fucking yourself with a paper-towel holder be seen in your face? Ridiculous! When I got there, I knocked on the front door. I had to be cool, and not let on about the past weekend, so I oohed and aahed while they gave me the ten-cent tour. Upstairs at one point Stefan pointed about 'his' bedroom, and how Anthony had one across the hall. Downstairs, I saw a den and a kitchen and then the open concept living room/dining room area. The one I'd seen from the outside. That fateful day. By the deck and the hot tub. I owe it all to Daylight Savings Time. Soon I was seated in a big over-stuffed chair, with a cold drink and some appies on a side table, looking through photo albums. And being in total awe. The pictures Stefan took were amazing. Incredible. He did indeed have the most amazing eye. There were a few pics of people, here and there, but for the most part his artistic tastes were of nature. Sunsets, rain storms, horses, wind-swept sand dunes, beaches with waves crashing onto the shore, birds in flight, dogs, kittens. Gorgeous. My drink had a slight tang to it, which I presumed was some sort of alcohol, and when Anthony asked if I'd like another I immediately said yes. I was feeling wonderful. Stefan brought me another photo album to look at. More pictures of the most amazing and inspiring images. I was surfing on being joyous, his art thrilling me and sending my soul to new heights every time I flipped a page. The conversation was wonderful as well. I commented a lot on the pictures, they would tell me little anecdotes about the location or the people or the shot itself. Both of them seated on the sofa, opposite me. At first, not touching, but slowly and gradually moving closer to each other. At one point Anthony got up to get another photo album for me to see. As he brought it closer, Stefan did the "Ahem" little polite cough that people do, and when Anthony looked over to inquire about the reason why, Stefan smiled and almost blushed, and then said, with a fiery intensity in his eyes, "I'm not sure Cary wants to see those particular photos, Tony." Looking down, as if suddenly realizing he'd grabbed the wrong album, Anthony blushed more than I usually did, coughed out a big "oooops!" and began to put it back where he'd found it, on some shelf. "Why wouldn't I want to see those photos? If they're anything like the rest of these, I'd love to see them!" Stefan looked at Anthony, who looked back. Both of them seemed to be trying to figure out a polite way of saying something. Anthony finally thought of an answer. "Um, well, the thing is," he stammered, "Stef also sometimes gets hired to do other kinds of shoots." I was curious. "Other kinds? Like what?" They looked at each other again. "What Tony means by other," Stefan took over, "is that there is a certain market for more personal photography. Intimate photography." "You mean nudes?" Stefan smiled. "Sometimes, sure. But sometimes intimate means, um, well, people being intimate with each other." I didn't know what to say. There was a big gigantic pause in the air. No one said anything. Then Stefan finished his thought. "People being intimate with others, too." The way he said it made me instantly realize he was talking about groups of people. More than just couples. Threesome, perhaps. And more. My dirty brain started shouting at me. My calm, cautious, don't-let-them-know-I-saw-them-having-sex- brain started shouting back. The dirty brain won. "I'd like to see them." I looked back and forth at both of them. "I'm an adult, and your photography is amazing, Stefan. Your eye and your use of positive space and negative space is a joy to look at. I'm sure I can appreciate your artistic vision even if the subject matter is provocative." Anthony still held the photo album in his hands, and he sat down beside Stefan. Really close to Stefan. Their thighs were touching. He looked as if he had something to say, and was trying to figure out the nicest way of saying it. It took him a few seconds. "Cary, the thing is," Anthony started, "you are an adult and of course you can look at anything you like. But," he paused, and looked at Stefan for some sort of moral support. Stefan just smiled, and reached his right arm over and landed his hand on Anthony's left thigh, caressing it. Then there was a long look between them, a look that only lovers have, a look that had shared experiences and shared passion and shared romance and shared love. "The thing is," Stefan continued, now looking directly at me, his gaze intense, his nostrils flared slightly, his lips pursed, "Tony and I are gay. We are a couple." "Oh." It was the only thing I could think of to say. I mean, yes, I already knew that. But they didn't know that I knew, right? So I had to play it cool. I had to act, to be the totally accepting casual acquaintance who just learned something, but wasn't in any way offended, and yet still had to say something in order to eliminate any possible comfortability for anyone. "Well," I said, trying to find the words, "I mean, that's cool. Of course. It's the twenty-first century, and all that!" They both smiled at me. I couldn't tell if there was anything I should be inferring from that or not. "And this photo album," Anthony continued, "has intimate shots that Stefan has done that are mostly gay." "Mostly?" I asked. Anthony burst out laughing. "Well, honestly, all gay. All of it." I studied them both. The man, and his lover. Who was also a man, for sure. But who also displayed some feminine characteristics, I thought. Not just when I'd seen him dressed up like a lingerie model at Victoria's Secret, but in some of his mannerisms. Then I silently admonished myself for not having noticed before. Then I silently berated myself for even thinking that. Who cares? They're both lovely people, and whether one has some gurly qualities about him from time to time was no matter and none of my concern. Except, of course, that it took up one hundred percent of my attention for the last week. One hundred percent of my consciousness. One hundred percent of my concern. All of my lust. Every last little bit of it, and it was inspiring in me levels of sexuality I'd never known before. And that was enough. "I'd like to see them." Anthony smiled, and handed over the book. I flipped the cover over, and the first photo had my heart palpitating. A simple shot, of two men kissing each other. And not a chaste kiss, either. Mouths were open, tongues were in use. Eyes were closed. Both men were naked, their bodies pressed together so their genitals weren't in the lens. Hands were everywhere, gripping and caressing and active. I saw Stefan's amazing eye in how he framed them, how he shot them. The picture just oozed real love. Real lust. Real passion. I was as hard as I'd ever been, in my little panties and bike shorts. My head was positively swooning. I felt light-headed and lucid all at the same time. Stoned and straight, mad as a hatter and perfectly sane. In one moment. Shared extremities of the mind. The next picture almost made me cum. One man, slight in features, was on his knees, his eyes looking up into those of a hairy bearded tattooed bear of a man, who was smiling down at the little man while he held his enormous rock-hard penis just inches away from an extended tongue. A fairly thick crowd stood behind them. Both men looked like the earth could have caught fire and it wouldn't deter them from their desires. One being sucked, and one doing the sucking. Perfect. I tried to be conscious of my breathing, so as not to give either of them any idea of how I was feeling, but inside I was boiling at about a thousand degrees and my little cock was uncomfortably hard. Each new eight-by-ten brought newer and more amazing sights: full out oral sex, full out anal sex, full out leather sex, full out bondage sex, full out group action, and full out gloryhole sex. Which I'd heard of, of course, but never seen before. And they were all shot so beautifully, lit so warmly, framed so attractively. He was an amazing photographer. And while I was viewing these photos, they were narrating. Little anecdotes, or just explaining things like equipment and cultures and wants and needs and desires. It was just like viewing Aunt Martha's travel pics, except in this case the dialogue that went with the pics was entirely sexual. Homosexual. Every few pages, one or both of the subjects in the shots were cross- dressed. Transvestites. I wasn't sure where the dividing line was, to be honest. Some of them were just ugly men dressed in women's clothes, but I still found them sexy. Gorgeous feminine clothes, it seemed to me, could make anyone look sexy. Some of them, however, were full out gorgeous. Amazing. Feminine, and sensual and sexual. I was breathing much heavier at those. When there was only two or three pages left in the photo album, Stefan asked me to stop for a moment. I looked up at them. Anthony had his head on Stefan's shoulder, who had his arm around Anthony's back and was holding him. They looked like the most in-love couple I'd ever seen. I was instantly jealous. Stefan spoke to me. Softly, and without judgement. "Cary," he said, "the next few pages are my most personal shots. They are of Tony and I. If seeing us in, um, a sexual context might offend you, then perhaps you shouldn't look. I mean, only if you think you'll be uncomfortable seeing two guys you personally know being physical with each other." He let that hang in the air for a few moments. "We're not uncomfortable with you seeing them, in case you're wondering." "No?" was all I could manage to say. Anthony visibly shook his head. "No, not at all. We're very open about sex. We're both proud of our relationship, and proud of our bodies, and proud of our sexual appetites. If you want to look, it won't offend us." "You're sure." Stefan nodded. "Very." Then he asked the million dollar question. "Is that something you'd be interested in seeing?" He had the most wonderful expression on his face. Loving. Caring. Masculine. Perhaps even slightly intrigued, excited at what might be coming. I nodded my head, because that's how I felt. No pretense, no shame. I wanted to see them. So I looked down, and flipped the page. Never had I seen anything like it. It was mind-shattering. Life- altering. It inflamed every cell in my body. It catapulted me into the upper stratosphere of eroticism. Bang! Just like that. A side-on shot. Anthony, on his knees, with Stefan behind him. Stefan was holding Anthony's torso up, his arms wrapped tight around his lover. I could almost see the motion that was going on. Stefan was about ninety percent buried inside Toni''s ass, with maybe an inch of that glorious example of cock showing. Their upper bodies were melded to each other. Toni had his head turned towards the camera, as did Stefan. Both had their eyes closed. Both had slightly open wet mouths, so I could almost hear their moans of rapture. Toni was wearing a corset, royal blue in color, perhaps leather in material. The cups of the bra were filled with breast forms, matching Toni's skin color almost to perfection, and making it hard to see the join line. His corset had six straps connected to the silky stockings on his legs. They were the same vibrant shade of blue. His shoes were single strap stilettos, with at least six inch heels. Frighteningly sexy to me. His panties, French cut and matching in shade, were gathered at his knees, as if someone had slipped them down his sexy silky thighs in a hurry. He had a long wig on, auburn in color. The most sexy shade of smoky gray eye shadow, long dark eyelashes, a hint of glow on his cheeks and absolutely dynamite cock-sucker red shiny lips. They seemed fuller than in real life, and damned near the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. My eyes became full with tears. I was almost at the point of crying. Silently. I was this close to having those tears running down my cheeks. I sat there. Still. Looking at this act of physical love, between two people who I knew and were sitting about four feet away from me. And wanting, needing, desiring, to have the same thing. For me. The same kind of love. The same kind of intensity. The same kind of loving. For me. My tears finally broke out of my lids, running down. I was sobbing, but silently. I sure couldn't look up at them. So I flipped the page. They were on a beach, somewhere tropical. Stefan was naked. Gloriously magnificently naked. A god, in physical form. Stretched out on a towel, basking in the sunlight. And basking in the blow-job Toni was giving him. Toni had long jet black hair, down almost to his ass, and was wearing the brightest yellow bikini I'd ever seen. The bra was small, and barely covered his nipples. The bottom was thin and shiny and sexy against the tan of his skin. Toni was looking at the camera. Full on, with cock in her mouth. And she was smiling! And the look of abject and absolute joy in her eyes was unmistakable. She was as happy as a human being gets. As elated as a person could possibly ever expect to be. As joyous as a gurl could ever aspire to. Her delight radiated out of her eyes. A perfectly shot scene, palm trees in the background, along with a white sandy beach and clear blue water. Again, I wanted it. For me. Then a thought occurred to me. So I asked the immediate question. "But wait...how are you taking the pictures if you're also in them?" I still couldn't look at them. I flipped the page. They were in a chalet or ski lodge. Toni had a sexy black dress on, low cut to reveal cleavage, hinting at sexy hips, barely covering the tops of her thigh- high stockings. The long black hair again. She was standing in front of a huge stone fireplace, the fire behind her roaring. The windows on either side of the fireplace showed a blanket of white. Her left hand was wrapped around Stefan's back. Her right hand was holding his enormous cock. The smile on both of their faces said it all. Toni's voice came up. "It's a video capture. We sometimes enjoy filming ourselves. You know, like online porn? Have you heard of it?" I laughed, a little. That was so nice of her, to bring a little levity into the room, to take away some of the shock I was experiencing. "Yes, I've heard of video porn." Toni's voice got playful. "It's not just a gay thing, you know? Straights do it too." I flipped the page again. They were in a bed, on top of a big fluffy down comforter. Stefan was on his back, looking up at his gurl with the most sincere and commanding look of love I've ever seen, as Toni sat astride him, the huge cock buried all the way inside her. The almost side-on shot also showed Toni was hard too. She was wearing nothing, except a ruby-red pair of ankle-high boots, about a three inch heel. She wasn't wearing a wig, but her face was made up like a Japanese Geisha gurl. Shockingly white, with blood-red lips and dark dark eyes. I sobbed out the word "oh". I was about to turn to the last thick page in the photo album, when Stefan's voice stopped me. "Cary?" Unable to face them, my eyes stayed on the picture, in awe of the physical act, but inspired by the intimate soulful passion so evident. I wanted it. So much. For me. "Cary? Are you okay?" I nodded yes, because I couldn't think of anything else to do. "Cary? Why are you crying?" And still, I couldn't look at them. My tears became a waterfall, and started pouring down my face, my sobs wracking my body in jolts. I just lost it. I was swimming in a whirlpool of emotions, and of all of them, it was shame that was rearing its ugly head. I had intruded on them, on their world, on their love for each other, and instead of feeling the appropriate regret for my actions I was soaring on a sexual high I'd never known and loving every second of it. I was a voyeur in their sexual world, which part of my brain told me was wrong. But I wasn't wrong. I loved looking at them. So I should be happy. Instead, I was embarrassed. And scared. Frightened. At what their reaction might be. Would they laugh at me? Would they tell the others that I was a sick little pervert who looked at their porn and got off on it? I knew they weren't that kind of people, but still my insecurity got the better of me. "Cary? Why are you crying?" Then Toni spoke. "It's okay, you can tell us. We're your friends. And we're very open-minded, as you've already seen. So don't worry. We're not here to judge you, darling." Just being called 'darling' made me shiver. A lovely, spiritual shiver, one that spread joy through my nervous system in waves, like a gentle ocean repeatedly lapping onto a shore. So even though I couldn't take my eyes off Toni riding Stefan's cock, the most profoundly sexy look on both of them, I said the first thing that came into my mind. "I'm crying because this is all the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Stefan's smile lit up the block. Toni had a more knowing look on her face, as if she was in possession of some kernel of knowledge unknown to the common man. Or gurl. "And?" "And what?" "It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and..." I looked up, at both of them. "And I want this. For me." Stefan's eyes were boring through me. I felt like I was the innocent farm girl, tied with rope to the train tracks as the gigantic engine raced towards me, ready to take me forever. To destroy me. But in this case destroy me with love, instead of tons of iron and steel. "Flip the page, Cary. Look at the last photo in that album." He paused. "I have the feeling you're going to love it more than any of the others. I know we do." So I did. They were on the floor of this very townhouse. This very room. The couch and love seat had been pushed to the sides, the coffee table banished to another space, pillows strewn on the floor, creating a softness both physical and artistic. Stefan was naked, his muscles clearly defined, masculinity oozing out his every movement, yet coupled with a visible tenderness towards his lover. Anthony, on the other hand, was not naked. Not even close. He was wearing the sexiest, most sensual clothes I've ever seen. He was wearing a wig, which made him look like Cher. It was his face, no question, but with eye shadow and blush on his cheeks and his lips cherry red and glistening. His arms were bare, and his torso was shaved and bare except for the delicious-looking black bra with tan cups. His smooth bare tummy led to a garter belt, also black with tan highlights, attached by straps to silky-smooth black stockings, all the way down to his feet, which had absolutely gorgeous black stiletto pumps on, the heels by my guess at least four inches. Which still wouldn't have made him as tall as Stefan. They were as close physically as two people can get. Anthony was lying on pillows on the floor, his back arched like a cat's. There was cum all over his tummy, running up to his gorgeous bra. Her bra. Her arms were wrapped around Stefan's back, fingers taut and pulling at Stefan's skin. Anthony had his legs spread lewdly and wide, his knees up towards his chest, his calves turned and his ankles locked around Stefan's lower back. Stefan was balanced on his rugged knees and elbows, his arms under Anthony's upper body, his hands cradling Anthony's head. His back was arched too, his torso massive and pumped up, his muscles rippling up and down his body. His eyes were shut, his mouth open. I could almost hear their voices. It was the exact moment that Stefan came in Toni's pussy. Last Sunday. I don't know how I knew that, but I just did. The camera was set up in the hall, looking out at the living area. Again, his eye for detail in framing his shots hit me, almost viscerally. It was just such an amazingly gorgeous photograph, never mind the two people in it, experiencing their most rapturous times together. Can this man take a pic, or what? Perfect focus, perfect vision. Absolutely the most erotic image I'd ever seen. "Do you like it?" he asked. I nodded, enthusiastically. "Oh my god, yes. It's the best of them all." Stefan spoke again. "We thought so too." "Cary?" Toni asked, "do you know why we love it so much?" I shook my head no. I couldn't stop looking at their faces in the eight-by-ten photograph, absorbed in total unashamed passion. It looked to me like how life should be. Always. Toni's voice was soft now, and genuine. "We love it, more than all the others, because it includes you." My head shot up and looked at her, my confusion evident in my face. "What are you talking about?" Stefan answered. "We love that photograph because it not only shows us making love and cumming, which we love to do every chance we get, but because when we look in the background, we see our sweetest new friend in the world, going through that amazing moment with us, and having the most amazing moment of their own." My eyes shot back down to the picture, and sure enough, there, right there, in the background, standing open-mouthed and looking right at these two sexual people, was me. ME! A truly massive cum stain in my sky-blue bike shorts, my eyes glassy and far-away. Preternatural, almost. At that moment, all the euphoria of looking at sexy pictures and the giddy way I was feeling at all this gay love and passion laid out in visuals in front of me just disappeared. Like that. In literally one second I went from the highest of highs to the most shameful lowest of lows. THEY KNEW! I wasn't thinking. I was acting only on instinct. Bare and naked shame and embarrassment coursed through me, and my body instantly rose and ran for the door. I was going to get out of there. It seemed like the only way to deal with this insane situation. Run. RUN!!! Fight or flight was kicking in, and there was no way I was a fighter. So something deep inside me told me to protect myself, to get away from this danger. The danger of facing them. The danger of facing myself, really. For a big man, he was surprisingly fast. He had to go around the back side of the sofa, which was farther than I had to go, but still Stefan made it to the front door before I did, so I literally ran into his body as I was trying to escape. Then his arms came up, and enveloped me. I was sobbing, crying, wailing almost. Trying to get past him, to get out and run crying all the way home. He held me in his arms. He let me cry and sob, my face against his upper chest, my arms scrunched up between our bodies, his arms around me, rubbing my back, caressing me, making me feel warm and loved. "It's okay, Cary," he whispered down into my ears, "it's okay." "No, no, no," I barely got out in between my gulps of crying. "I have to go." "It's okay, baby. Let it all out. We're your friends, and you shouldn't be on your own right now. Stay here and let's get you all happy again, okay?" Toni spoke from behind me. "Cary, honey," she purred, "come back inside. Come on." I let Stefan lead me, in his loving gentle manner, back into the living room. But this time, he led me to the couch, and sat down with me, on my left, still holding me against his chest. His strong, masculine, barrel of a chest, one that was big enough to protect me from anything. That thought bore straight into my soul. Toni sat down on my right, and she began caressing my shoulder and arm. "Cary, did you think we'd be mad?" I nodded, my head against Stefan, my face wet with tears, my nose just barely touching under his chin. "Oh, honey, we're not mad. We think it's sexy as fuck!" I stopped sobbing. "You do?" Stefan spoke from above my head. "We do. And we think you're sexy as fuck too." "Me?" Toni spoke again. "Cary, that picture is pure, and unscripted, and natural, and shows you at your most primitive and sexual of moments. Seeing us making love made you cum. It's the most beautiful expression anyone could have, and the most beautiful gift anyone could ever give us." My breathing was trying to come back into normality. So was my heart. "And either you're the biggest cummer in the world, or seeing us fuck made you cum more than once. Amiright?" They both giggled, so I did too. Mine sounded a little manufactured, I suppose, but I was trying to relax. I nodded. "Twice." "Mmmmmmm," Stefan said, nuzzling his jaw into the hair on the top of my head. "Good gurl." At that Toni pretend-slapped her lovers' arm, and gasped in shock. "Stefan, how dare you say 'good gurl'? We have no idea what Cary's interests lie in, what turns Cary on." I didn't think. I just pointed at the open photo album. "I want that. That turns me on." Stefan's hold on me got just a little bit tighter. And I could feel a very big something growing in his pants. OMIGOD! Toni purred again. "And which part do you want? Being the big man on top with his little sexy boy-gurl on the bottom, or would you prefer to be the sexy feminine gurl?" I reached my hand over and laid my finger on the picture, right on Anthony. "I want to feel that beautiful. I want to be that beautiful." Anthony stood up, suddenly. "Stefan?" He looked up at his lover. "What?" "You need to go to Costco, right now, and get everything on the list." Stefan got a surprised look on his face. "Say what?" "The list is next to the fridge." "But it's Sunday." "Costco is open on Sunday." "I know, but it'll be a zoo there. It'll take me a couple of hours, at least." Anthony smiled, and then reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. "Good," she giggled, "because us gurls will need a couple of hours to get ready." Then she looked at me, her eyes wide with joy and a sexy mischievous smile on her face, waiting for my reaction. I thought for a second, and then moved my head to hers, softly kissing her on her unmade lips. Her eyes closed, and we hugged, as we both gently swayed and moved our lips together, enjoying the delights of softness and sensuality. Then I broke the kiss, and looked at Stefan. "Make sure you get everything on the list." End of part two