Gorilla

It all started with the illustrated article from a nature magazine on primate intercourse that I received at home in a manila envelope in the mail—no return address. There wasn't any explanation for why I received it either. An article, with photos of monkeys, baboons, and gorillas doing it. It showed that they did it pretty much like we did it, so we haven't evolved all that much. The larger the apes the more into it they seemed to be, though, and the more control they established over their partner. I held the article for a couple of days, thinking I'd get some sort of explanation for it or I'd find it had been misdelivered, but there was no follow up, so I just tossed it.

That was a Monday. Thursday was my evening at the gym near the Charlotte Motor Speedway, where I spent a good deal of my time. That was my home base. I traveled a circuit from Atlanta in the south to Dover, Delaware, in the north, but I trained in Charlotte and had my house here. I owned a log cabin near enough to Lake Norman southeast of town for me to get to the speedboat I had moored there in under a half hour but not close enough to the water that I'd have to have a million-dollar house. I was a modified stockcar race driver. I was built for it—small, lithe body. That was the easy part. I had to remain flexible too to fit in the cars and to be able to enter and exit them quickly. That's where the gym came in. I was continuing working out to remain slim and limber.

Jason Hall was slim and limber too. He was a college kid on a sports scholarship to the University of North Carolina in Charlotte and had qualified for the U.S. Olympic fencing team. Fencing was his ticket to a college education, so, like I did, he spent a lot of time at The Stable, a serious men's gym not far from the speedway and owned by a sponsor of the Charlotte Colts semipro football team. Most of the guys on the football team worked out here too, as the team sponsor gave them free access to the gym. Thus guys like me—and Jason—had the added benefit of being around a lot of randy beef cake while we fought to keep our bodies flexible for our jobs. I liked the landscape of that, and I was pretty sure that Jason Hall liked the landscape of that too.

That's why I was not in the best frame of mind on Thursday when I thought I was seeing Vince Turner, a running back for the Colts who I lusted after, putting the moves on Jason while he was spotting the college kid. Jason certainly thought that's what was happening and wasn't doing anything to fend him off.

I'd been cultivating Vince myself for several weeks, trying to let him know I was available. He was a hunk and a half—a blond Nordic type with strong legs, a great body, a Samson mane of curly hair, and a fine smile. He was a star on the team, rumored to be heading for the Miami Dolphins next year, and, to put it bluntly, I wanted to be laid by him before he left. It'd seen him in the showers and he had everything I wanted to have and hadn't gotten since the pit stop boss I'd been laying under had split and gone to work at the Richmond track. And here he was sniffing around Jason while spotting him on the bench press.

But first impressions were sometimes misleading. He looked over to me and smiled and called out something. I didn't hear what he said, so he repeated, louder, "Get a load of Enzo over there, Matt."

I looked across the gym floor to see that the Colts defensive tackle, Enzo Fava, was entertaining some of the guys by doing his ape routine. He was Italian, olive skinned, but one of the hairiest men I'd ever seen. He also was massive, solidly built, bowlegged, and his muscular arms seemed long for his torso. When he hunched over and hopped around on his feet, as he was doing just now, he was downright apian. He was making monkey noises to go with the act. My mind immediately went to the article on the apes breeding that had mysteriously appeared in my mailbox two days earlier.

Vince kept the image in my mind at that point because he suddenly was beside me, an arm going around my shoulders, and was commenting between laughs, "How'd you like to be fucked by something like that?"

I turned my face to him, appreciating that he had come over to me and left Jason, and aroused to hear him talking about sex when I'd had many a pleasant moment thinking of having sex with Vince. He'd even hinted at that before, telling me now and again that he'd like to take me home, without getting explicit about what we'd do there. But the look he'd give me when he said it gave me ideas of what he was suggesting and sent shivers up my spine.

He was giving me that look now.

"What you say to knocking off early this evening and coming over to my place for a beer?" he said.

I looked him straight back in the eyes and said, "Yeah, I'd like that."

"You sure?" he asked, his hand going to one of my butt cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm quite sure," I answered.

* * * *

I'd never done it this way before and it was sending me over the moon. Vince was standing, crouched, in the center of his bedroom, taking both his weight and mine on his strong thigh and calve muscles as he held me, fists gripping my wrists, my torso cantilevered out from his pelvis, my legs streaming back over his hips, my ankles crossed, and the palms of my hands gripping the back of a straight chair. He was inside me, thick and long, and making short thrusts, rubbing his shaft against my channel walls, punishing my prostate. Mouth slack in a grimace of pain-pleasure, completely overwhelmed with the demanding position and the novelty of it, I panted and groaned. He was grunting happily, complimenting me on my flexibility, on the perfect proportions and size of my body that fit his indulgence in unique, demanding fuck positions.

He tensed, stopped the thrusts momentarily, panting heavily. I heard a muttered, "Here it comes." Another couple of jabs up inside me, and he released his cum with a snort and a long sigh. I was gently lowered to the floor and lay there, turning onto a side and watching, as he went over to his bureau, patted a cigarette out of a pack, lit up, took a drag, and then looked down at me.

"Your workouts have done you well. You've got great flexibility. A good lay. Charlie was right."

Charlie, the pit boss who had wandered off to Richmond after revving me up and letting me loose. In some ways Charlotte was a small town. Everyone must know everyone else's business, especially in a small, tight community of sportsmen fucking sportsmen. When a guy good at subbing came along, did all of the power tops in town just pass him around, I wondered. Vince didn't now make me stop wondering that.

"You do it with a lot of the guys at the gym yet?" he asked. "Do they know what a good lay you are? The guys on the football team who are into guys have talked about wanting to get into you, but I haven't heard any of them crowing about having scored yet."

"No, not guys from the gym," I answered, looking up at him from the floor. He had the body of a god, standing there like he was, nonchalantly leaning on the bureau and taking drags from his cigarette. He was solid and muscular, as a football running back would be expected to be. Thick everywhere. Everywhere. Hung like a horse. "Just you. And you're enough. I'm satisfied."

"Not yet, you're not," he answered with something between a grin and a sneer. "Not nearly enough yet. I know Enzo hasn't had you yet. Because he whines over how much he wants to fuck you."

"Enzo? The hairy Italian."

"Yeah, Enzo. You got a thing against hairy men?"

"Not ones built like Enzo," I answered.

"You caught his gorilla act at the gym this evening, didn't you?"

"Yeah, sure. You pointed it out to me."

"You ever thought about a gorilla fuck before."

"I'm thinking about another Vincent Turner fuck now," I answered. I wasn't the only one thinking of it too, I could see. He was erect again. And then, with a sly smile he was on me again, after stubbing out his cigarette in a dish on his bureau top.

I went on my back and elbows on the floor, spreading and bending my legs, and lifting my buttocks and rolling up my pelvis to receive him going on his knees between my thighs. But he didn't want anything as basic as a missionary fuck. Instead of going on his knees, he, first, grasped my ankles and pulled me up to where only my elbows were on the carpet. Then he pulled around to where my knees faced his torso. "Put your legs into the splits," he growled, as his hands moved down to grasp my buttocks. I did as he commanded and felt his bulb at my hole. Squeezing my buttocks, he lifted me up and pressed down with his cock at the same time, penetrating me again, going deep, and, once again, going into the rhythm of the athletic fuck.

I didn't think again about what Vince had said about a gorilla fuck or of Enzo Fava, the Colts' dark, hunky, and hairy defensive tackle. Vince had fucked me royally, and he'd said he wanted me again. He said that I'd be his victory lap after that Saturday's football game. All weekend all I could think of was Vince and what exotic fuck position he'd put me in next.

The Colts lost their Saturday game, though, and the coach had laid on extra practices. Vince had dropped a couple of passes, so I knew he was sweating bricks in practice and probably wouldn't be interested in me again until Thursday in the gym. Enzo had had a few great plays in the loss, but all I could think of was Vince's dick and the next time he had an inventive way of fucking me with it.

Thus, I was taken completely surprise by the manila envelope—again with no return address—that arrived in my mail on Monday. Photos this time. Not an article, but glossy copies of photos. I immediately saw the resemblance to a gorilla. The photos were of Enzo—naked, hairy, muscular and in gigantic erection and primitive fuck positions. He had the college fencer, Jason Hall, in various Godzilla complete control positions and obviously was fucking the stuffing out of the little guy. Jason looked totally wiped out, but he also had the expression on his face of having been completely dominated and taken to heaven.

If this was a signal to me. It worked. I moaned, went hard, and went straight to the bedroom to masturbate myself to release.

* * * *

Of course this was a signal to me, I decided. Enzo Fava wanted to be a gorilla for me. He'd had Jason Hall and he still wanted me. So, I could stop being jealous of Jason. And Vince Turner wasn't a consideration. Vince obviously was in on Enzo having me, as he'd brought having sex with his hairy teammate to my attention. He obviously didn't care if I let Enzo lay me. All I had to consider now was whether I wanted Enzo manhandling me—or "gorillaing" me, I guess.

What a question. Enzo was a hunk and a half. And I liked hairy men. He took that a bit too extreme but his body otherwise and his great cock made for a perfect package.

The question was whether I could wait for Thursday, which was the next night I was going to the gym. And what if he wasn't there on Thursday? And what if both of them were there—Enzo and Vince—and both wanted to screw me? Would it be one after the other or could I take two hung hunks at the same time? Would they want to share me? I'd done doubles before but not with two guys who both were hung. I decided I'd just have to cool it until then and when I got to the gym take it from there.

I climbed off my bed, pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, and padded downstairs. Saturday's Colts game had been run on the local TV station. I hadn't been home to watch it—and I didn't go to the game itself—as we had a full day of races at the track. But I had recorded it. I got a beer from the refrigerator and settled down on the couch to watch the game. I picked out Vincent and Enzo whenever I could, pulled out my dick, and played with it while I watched them on the field. I didn't have any trouble imagining either one of them manhandling me. Their satiny pants were tight over their muscular legs and glutes and across their jock cups. I could see that Enzo wasn't having the best of days in terms of missed tackles and a few penalties—but he still looked sexy as hell doing what he did. The material was tight, tight, tight, across his butt. The cheeks were big and rounded. I wondered if there was extra padding there.

The grunting of the men on the field, as conveyed by the TV, started to come at me in stereo. I muted the sound on the TV out of curiosity and I still heard grunting sounds—apelike sounds. I turned my face toward the French doors out into the garden and then laughed.

He was there. Enzo Fava, naked, hulky and hunky and hairy, was crouched over outside my window, dragging his knuckles on the flagstones of the patio, and giving me a gorilla impression. His big dick, sticking out of the black, curly matting of his pubes, was hard in erection. I laughed and got up from the sofa and turned toward the window. He was gone, but I knew he just wanted to lure me outside. I wanted him to lure me outside.

When I went out onto the patio, there he was, in the dense foliage of the back corner of my garden, which was fenced with bamboo stalks, carpeted with ivy, and with the spiked leaves of semitropical plantings. He had peeled a banana and was eating it—making the impression that he was eating a cock. He gave me a grin, and as I turned and started walking away from him, he gave a high-pitched gorilla-like cry, threw the banana aside, and started loping toward me. I loped around the house myself, passing Vincent at the edge of the driveway as I rounded the front of the house. He too was grinning. He too was naked and erect.

I let Enzo catch and cover me when I'd gotten around to the garden again. He enveloped me in his arms and gathered me into his hairy chest. My athletic shorts slid off my legs. I fought him, as I knew he wanted me to, struggling within his powerful grasp and covering body. Both of us knew there really wasn't any use my struggling, but we both knew it was a game. He'd gone to great lengths to role play the gorilla with me, and I let the game play out of him manipulating my body at will and having his way with me.

I was basically on all fours in the ferns, with him all over and on top of me, pulling me back into his body whenever I tried to break away and hugging me and giving me sloppy kisses in the hollow of my neck. When I felt him go into position and enter me and plow his dick up my channel and hold, with it throbbing there, I went docile for him. When I was quiet, buried within his grasp, he started to slow pump me. He only continued this long enough for the acceptance of the fuck to be established, though, when he started playing with me—putting my body into all of the controlling, flexible, submissive positions I'd seen in the photos I'd received that he'd put Jason into. It was a lesson not only in how flexible I was but in how many exotic positions a gorilla like Enzo could put me in while still being in the saddle with his dick up my ass.

It was also a lesson that I was to be completely submissive for him.

I wasn't quite Jason, though. I had my ways too. When Enzo came, he was on his back in the ferns, his arms and legs spread, his knees bent, and me on top of him, riding his cock. When Vince at last got into the act himself, pulling me off Enzo and standing there, over Enzo's panting body, and bully fucking me in a standing position, with me draped in front of his body, my arms trapped in a full Nelson, my legs hooked on his hips, the tops of my feet rubbing his meaty calves, and his pelvis thrusting his cock up inside my ass again and again, Enzo just looked up at us with slitted eyes.

We lay there, side by side, on our backs in the foliage, panting and moaning low.

"You know you don't have to play these games to have me," I said. "Either one of you. You can have me anytime you want. You can do me together if you want."

There was silence other than the heavy breathing and Enzo making low grunting sounds as though he was still taken with the role as a gorilla.

"In fact if you want to take me upstairs now and—"

"Yeah, I'd like that," they said together in stereo, as they both sat up and turned and reached for me.

I made sounds like a monkey in heat as Enzo climbed the stairs to my bedroom, with me slung over his shoulder and Vince followed close behind.

And, yeah, they were willing to share me, and, yeah, even as hung as they both were I could take both of them working their shafts inside me at the same time.

* * * *

Enzo was on his back on the bed, holding my waist between his hands, as, straddled on his pelvis, taking all of his cock inside me, I rode him in a cowboy, swaying back and forth and side to side on his big shaft. But then he was holding me immobile on top of him and pulling me forward, rolling my buttocks up.

And Vince was in back of me, fingering the root of Enzo's cock inside me, pressing his fingers in, creating room for him. I moaned, knowing what was coming.

And then it came. Vince was replacing his fingers with the bulb of his cock, pressing in, on top of Enzo's buried shaft. We were all breathing hard and groaning, me more than the other two. I was working hard to accommodate both shafts, willing my channel to open to them, to spread and taking them.

Vince wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me back into his chest, burying his face into my neck. Enzo grabbed my waist again between his hands, holding me steady, beginning to slow pump me. Vince joined in that, taking another rhythm of his pumping.

I fought to relax, to let them have their way with me, to take two huge cocks at once.

Oh, yeah, I could take them both.