The Massage Night

It felt right for my dick, to be sure, which was tremendously excited at fucking this tight, hot ass, and the sight of these two young and open bodies being penetrated simultaneously, along with the joy of holding Helen's ass in my horny hands, was all wonderful. But this was fighting in my mind with the feeling that I was just along for the ride, and I remembered how from the beginning I had just been invited because a second man was needed. And I couldn't tell to what extent I was choosing my own motions, choice of how or where to grip, or what to look at, and how much I was just imitating what John was doing.

This experience no longer felt like two men having their way with young co-eds, rather it was about two girls sharing an intimate experience, and I was simply there to service half of the pair. I wasn't even sure if Helen wanted this for itself, it may have been more about doing what Kay did, or what Kay recommended to her, than about pleasure for herself. She occasionally expressed some enjoyment, but only Kay was vigorous in her delight. I even wondered at one point if I was causing Helen pain or discomfort, or even somehow got manipulated into raping her, in order to fulfill Kay's plan of experiencing group sex. I know of course that Kay consented at some level, but I couldn't help wondering just what was going on in her mind; we never slowed down enough to talk about what we were doing.

I looked over to see John's shaft thrusting into Kay's ass, and compared that to my own. Seeing my cock disappear into Helen's body was totally amazing. Everything was so new—the sights, the tightness, the voyeurism, that I didn't know what to focus on or be most excited by. I couldn't hold out much longer, yet John beat me to the punch as he made one final thrust into Kay's bowels with a deep "aaahh," ejaculating into her. I was briefly relieved now that we no longer acted in perfect parallel, and his attention was elsewhere, so I felt more relaxed in my motion and could actually feel briefly like I was fucking Helen on my own, at my own pace, and I was actually in charge.

I saw that John continued thrusting more slowly a few seconds later, but my focus was much more on Helen's body now. I gave full attention to each hot, slippery thrust of my dick into her tight, young asshole, and I felt more control and dominance over the situation than I had anytime that day. For a few seconds it was just Helen and I who mattered, we who were enjoying this unity between our flesh. She held still, and the others drifted away as I decided how fast to go, how deep to push, how far to go into this woman's body, how long before I would fill her with my sperm. Less than a minute later I started to cum, and gripped Helen's hips tight as I gasped several times, trying not to be too loud.

My surroundings came back a bit to me, and I felt somewhat embarrassed about experiencing this intimate release and loss of control in front of Kay and John. I felt as if each squirt of semen exposed me more in the presence of the other three people in the room, even if they couldn't see or feel exactly what I was doing. Whether they were actually watching my reactions or not, I felt exposed. Still, there was no denying the raw pleasure of squirting my semen into Helen's ass, and my whole body shook excitedly after each pulse. She seemed to sit passively through this though, again making me feel like we weren't fully connecting. John and I thrust a few more times until we pulled out our shrinking penises and the girls flattened out and relaxed, smiling and gripping each other's hands while John and I rolled off the futon in different directions and cleaned our genitals with some towels. Again, I felt distanced, like I was done, used up, but the girls were bonded more strongly than ever. The boys got to cum; Helen certainly didn't and I don't think Kay did either. And yet I felt that their pleasure from the encounter was longer and deeper.

We rolled towards the girls and shared some light fondling and kissing with our partners; but Helen and I were hardly passionate, our pecking felt pro forma, and my hand on her hip far less intimate than it did minutes earlier when I was inside her body. The realization that I had fucked her asshole before ever kissing her startled me, and even later it felt like we never displayed any passion. Her bare body was exciting—but I felt the glimmering awareness that I had never sexually possessed it, and never would. I never saw John again after that night, and while I lived in the house with Helen and Kay for nearly another year, we hardly ever mentioned it, and once when I tried to talk to Helen about it I got flustered. I simply blurted out that I wished we had talked more at the time—which sounded rather stupid given that even later I didn't know what I wanted to say about it. Once Kay briefly mentioned that in her mind it wasn't an orgy, because we never switched sexual partners, and she had a point, so I couldn't even put that label on it. It was group sex, I supposed, just not an orgy. I don't know what to call it, except "the massage night." So there it is.

OK, so I'll confess this may be one of the more didactic and introspective sex stories you've ever read, and if my self-analysis got in the way of the eroticism, I apologize. I also have to admit, I don't know how much of what I was feeling was based in reality. Was I really used? Was it really better for the girls than for the boys, or at least than it was for me? Or were we all still pretty new and this and each contributing our own part to an unexpected and unplanned encounter? I felt very inexperienced compared to Kay and John, but perhaps I overestimated our differences. But in the end that's all I can tell you about, how it felt and how the excitement of a new sexual experience combined confusingly with the nervousness of exposure to strangers, and the attempt to be part of a group without ruining the encounter through my inexperience or hesitation. Was it fun, and did it work out? I guess it depends on what one is expecting out of any given encounter, and I never quite knew what that was. There's definitely a value in knowing exactly what you want out of sex, and either getting it or at least knowing just what's missing. But sometimes to get there you need some times like the one I've described, where you don't really know what's going on, who is fucking who or why, and what the point of the whole thing is, before we have it all sorted out. And I suspect there are more real life stories that go like this than a survey of the stories here would lead one to think. Not that I have anything against fantasy, and I know the point of these is more often to share with other jackers and jillers some good hot ideas than to document our real sex lives for anthropologists. But if you liked my story, please let me know.