Sex stories

I was browsing profiles on Unitedmen when I stumbled on this guy. Full-on street vibe that turned me on instantly—gray tracksuit, white TNs, ripped torso in his pic. He messages me straight away:
"I'm horny as fuck, need to fuck a hole. You down?"

I’m turned on as hell, but there’s a catch—he can’t host, and he can’t go far either. I suggest something outdoors. He replies:
"Come to the underground parking under my building, level -2. I can’t stay out long."

I’m a little nervous—basement garages aren’t exactly the safest spots—but the risk gets me hard. I tell him:
"I’m in."

I grow a pair, toss a bottle of popss in my pocket, and head over. The place is a rough-looking housing block in the suburbs—concrete everywhere, heavy vibe. He’s waiting outside, leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand.

And damn—he’s hot. Tall, tanned, well-trimmed beard, hoodie up, eyes that pierce right through you. I’m already sweating just looking at him. He gives me a nod, like “Follow me,” and we head down the reeking staircase to the basement. Flickering lights, damp floor, that raw urban smell. We find a spot behind a pillar.

He looks at me and goes:
"On your knees. Suck me."

I drop immediately. He pulls down his tracksuit, and out comes a thick, hard, man-smelling cock. I wrap my lips around it, tongue teasing while he grabs my ass over my shorts. I’m burning up—so I ditch the T-shirt, pull my shorts down to my ankles, still in my boxers.

He grunts:
"You’re a proper little slut, huh?"

He spits on my hole, pulls my boxers aside, and starts rubbing his cock between my cheeks. I take a hit of popss—head spinning—and strip fully, my clothes in a pile on the dirty concrete.

He lays his cock against my hole—hot, heavy—and starts pressing in. I feel my ass stretching, opening up. It stings a bit, but it feels so damn good. I try not to moan—the echo in the parking garage makes everything louder.

He grabs my hips and goes deeper. I whisper:
"Do it—fuck me hard."

That’s all he needs. He slams into me, his hips smacking my ass, his cock driving deep inside. I’m flying—the popss, the filth, his dick—it’s too good. I feel like his fucktoy.

Then suddenly—voices. Footsteps echoing through the garage. He freaks, yanks his cock out—leaving me gaping—and bolts, half-dressed.

I’m left there, ass burning, scrambling for my clothes, when two silhouettes walk in.

Two local guys—tracksuits, caps, total bad-twink energy. They look me up and down, smirking:
"Well, well… a little bitch hanging around here? Stay right there—you’re not done."

Still half-hard and flushed, I don’t move. I drop my clothes again. They pull out their dicks—thick, brown, already hard. I drop to my knees, take one in my mouth—wide and filling—while the other slaps my ass and slips a finger into my still-used hole. I moan, muffled by cock.

Then the second guy gets behind me, spits on his dick, and pushes in. No warning. No pause. He fucks me hard while his buddy facefucks me. I’m caught in the middle—their hands all over me—and loving every second.

After a while, they switch. The one who fucked my mouth now takes my ass. He’s even rougher, pounding me deep, while the other slams his cock down my throat. I’m their toy—used, owned—and fuck, it’s perfect.

After ten minutes of raw fucking, the first one groans and empties himself inside me, deep. His buddy takes over again, thrusting until he cums too, stuffing me full.

My hole pulses with both their loads, leaking down my thighs. They zip up, toss me a wink:
"You were good. Come back anytime."

I throw my clothes back on, breathless, body shaking, totally spent—but completely satisfied.

As I’m heading back up, my phone buzzes. It’s a message from the first guy:
"Sorry we got interrupted."
I grin and reply:
"Don’t worry—I still got fucked real good."

I drive home, hole fucked, already hard again thinking about the next time.