While I was married to my first wife, Leah, we had a relatively open marriage. We weren't 'supposed' to have opposite-sex encounters without the other one there, but same-sex was no issue.
We just had to tell each other.
One kinda weird situation was that we met another couple with pretty much the same rules. Their difference was they never played together. It felt 'weird' to see them screw someone else in their presence. Apart was ok.
They both had a kink or two. Morgan enjoyed a bit of leather stuff. Leah went out and dropped a couple thousand for custom stuff for both Morgan and her own enjoyment after she realized she enjoyed it too. Morgan was also into oil. They'd lay a waterproof sheet on the bed and baby oil themselves for near hours.
Lance enjoyed leather as well. I had a couple of custom jocks and a thong, which worked him up a storm. The second was public stuff. Either hiding away in a janitor's closet or changing room or men's room stall. The third was that he lived being watched. Adult bookstores and bathhouses mostly.
He was a completely versatile guy for almost everything except his final, most prevalent kink. He loved hiking in nothing but boots and socks. It took some searching at times to find locations that worked, but when they did it was an adventure.
During those times, he turned into an absolutely aggressive top. You could tell you were in for something because you'd see him randomly get hard. When his 6.5" of decent thickness started pointing up, make sure you had lube and water.
I'd been on two of these hikes so far. He had joined a 'hunting group' that owned a bunch of property in northern Wisconsin. He'd get time to go up there, strip off and start walking.
In a given five hour period on the two times we headed up, I'd completely drained him over the course of three blowjobs. He'd followed by climaxing in my ass another four times.
He was super vocal, knowing there was nobody around, and his loudest and most pronounced exclamation was immediately after he'd tell you he was cumming.
He'd slam into your mouth or ass and just happily laugh. Huge belly laughs that rang through the woods.
Note that he would only do it on a hike. Deep in the woods. He wouldn't even chuckle any other time.
So it was on a nice May afternoon in '98 when he called the house that I was expecting a several hour trip out of Milwaukee. Instead, he asked if I wouldn't mind going a little closer to home.
He mentioned the place, a recreation area only about a half hour out of town. I was skeptical and asked, "Is it going to be one of our 'usual' hikes?"
There was a healthy laughter from his side, "Actually, yeah. We're also going to have company!"
The next morning I got ready to go. Leah said, "Have fun. Wear bug spray." Lots of bug spray.
A huge parking lot was empty but for one spot. Lance's Jeep was parked and I took the one a few down from him.
He jumped out of the vehicle, his regular hiking shoes, calf-length socks, cargo shorts and t-shirt. We were almost exactly eye to eye at 5'9", and where I was more gym-designed, he was lean and wiry.
Short cut light brown hair, he usually styled it nicely but on hikes, let it go. Less chemicals for him to carry around. His brown eyes almost perfectly matched his hair.
Both Morgan and Lance were older than Leah and I. Lance was an undisclosed amount over 40...at least a decade older than my 27. Morgan had cleared her 32nd birthday in March, less than a week after Leah's 26th.
You wouldn't know he was a day out of his younger 30's. Built gorgeously and vibrant, he was so different than people I'd known prior.
He grabbed the duffel we'd put our clothes in as he shut the door. The passenger door opened a second later.
The guy had to be at least a decade older than Lance. He was stocky, with a short shock of grey hair sticking straight up. Not enough to curve it down. He wore a dark pair of Ray Ban wayfarers, a pair of tall hiking boots with calf socks that could have come from Lance's drawer. Cargo shorts and a short sleeve button down rounded him out.
He reminded me of one of those grizzled Western characters from the 60's. Not quite Eastwood era, but beyond the naive Roy Rogers shit.
I made my way over and shook his hand. Lance introduced him as 'Bob, my boss'. My eyebrow went up.
Maybe he had invited himself along, but there was no way in my head Lance was fucking his boss. No chance. We were just going to go on a regular hike.
An idea which flew away as we stopped just inside the trees. Lance was nude almost immediately. Bob undressed just as quick.
Lance always kept his crotch hair at a very short length. I had been shaving everything since my 'tutor' in college.
Bob had an impressively thick flaccid prick in the neighborhood of 4" limp. It was nestled in a neatly trimmed tuft of pubes that seemed to be the shortest hair on his body.
I stripped as well, a little daunted by the idea of banging both of these guys. It was by no means my first time, but it had been a while. I'd never done two guys in this...relationship.
There's no 'type' I'm really into. I have a few caveats. You need to have good hygiene. I won't do pedo, poop, pain or pets. Body type doesn't matter. Race, ethnicity, religion...don't care. Hairy or bald, short or tall. Short, thin, long or thick cock? It's all good.
However, there are a few 'types' that I'm programmed for. The guy who taught me every bit of same sex stuff, for instance, was a tan, average built guy with hardly any hair anywhere and longer than average, but slightly thinner cock. Rich would always be a benchmark for male sexual partners, as would his good friend Cy.
Cy had been built almost exactly like Bob. So my brain went back eight years to college and the two men and I putting our cocks into each other with abandon.
Despite my conscious thoughts, my subconscious made me hard as stone.
"You look like you're up to something." Bob said, pointing down at me. The awareness of my hardon apparently drove him a bit upward. His swelled in width and extended at least an inch.
We began walking through the woods, down a pathway that could have been a hiking trail or deer path. Lance was bounding forward, thoroughly enjoying himself. I was in the middle, my shoulder bag the only thing any of us was wearing other than shoes and socks.
