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Message-ID: <62980asstr$1401786604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} His Cock vs Her Cock (MM-oral, MF-anal, strapon)
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Date: Tue, 03 Jun 2014 05:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This was originally posted at 
http://bawdybloke.com/sinfulstories-her-cock-his-cock/ with all my 
stories; I'd love any feedback or comments! ;-)



"It should worry me, but strangely doesn't." The words of my fiancée 
reverberated around my mind for a moment as we walked in the drizzle. 
"Why?" I eventually asked, looking at the beautiful young lady striding 
to keep up with me.

"Because neither I or any of my friends feel the need to meet up with 
strangers to compare breast sizes!" She had been teasing me mercilessly 
for days. "It's ... it's just a weird idea."

"Yeah but ..."

"And the bet you have to do if you lose ..." I sighed, skipping around a 
puddle. "I've never seen that before. And we've been to some adult 
parties ..."

"I didn't ask you to come, you wanted to."

"And miss this. Pah!" She scoffed. "I've never seen your bi side. I find 
it very, very hot."

"I don't have a bi side," I protested. "I fumbled around once at College 
and have a bit of fun on the `net. And I've been talking to him online 
for two months now. He's a great guy. It's a giggle ..." She smirked at 
me, her wide brown eyes gleaming with her bashful personality. "... and 
we've just bought the strap-on you wanted, and you get dinner out of it, 
and then we're going to your bloody gig," I added. While the afternoon 
meet with the semi-anonymous man in a North London hotel was my 
arrangement, our evenings activities were for her. "I mean, Chocolate 
Covered Sundaes are your favourite band, not mine!"

The imposing hotel lobby was a welcome blast of warmth after the cold, 
wet walk from the Underground station. Olivia squeezed my hand as we 
looked into the bar; I donned a pair of sunglasses - the agreed signal 
between myself, Wellhung87, and Donkeydick - as butterflies did the 
tango in my stomach.

I looked ridiculous: wearing sunglasses inside while the weather 
relentlessly assaulted the country, but they gave me a psychological 
shield to hide behind as my feet padded on the soft carpet. It was 
quiet; a few women were chatting over coffee, while businessmen 
discussed the papers. It was eerily bereft of the activity that I hoped for.

I saw him; he was my height, and my age, sat in the very far corner of 
the bar reading a magazine and wearing designer sunshades. "That's him," 
I muttered to Olivia, who was a lot more confident than I felt.

"Hi," my fiancée called to him, as she navigated the chairs in her way. 
"Are you ..." Her voice broke as she glanced at me, and then whispered. 
"Donkey Dick!"

"Sssshhhhh!" He hushed. He had unbrushed black hair that cascaded down 
his neck to cover the top of his maroon sweater, and desperately tried 
to force a smile to his new guests standing next to his table. "Well ... 
ahem?" he coughed, and I nodded anxiously.

I had never had any trouble talking to the approachable, and likeable, 
anonymous person on the Internet, but his paranoid behaviour made me a 
nervous; he was drawing attention to us by acting unnaturally. "Yeah," I 
muttered. "Do you want a drink?"

He shook his head quickly and glanced away from my face. "My room. Get 
out of public. Mini bar, help yourself," he snapped in his London 
accent, and scrambled to his feet, picking his room key from the table 
and leaving his garish music magazine behind.

If Olivia hadn't had followed him from the table towards the lifts so 
readily, I would have said something: his behaviour was making me 
anxious, but Donkeydick seemed to calm down in the lift as a smile 
flickered across his face. I saw Olivia checking out his butt as he 
walked, admiring his tight clothing that stretched alluringly over the 
mystery man's rear.

I waited until we were in his room a few moments later to speak. "You OK?"

"Fine," he promised and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at both 
of us. "Sorry, just can't be too careful."

Olivia put her handbag onto the bed, and walked towards us. "So what 
happens now? When do you two get naked?"

"Olivia!" The little minx giggled as she pulled out her digital camera 
and swung it around her wrists, cocking her head as her eyes traced our 
bodies. I did my best to ignore her. "Good flight?"

"Yeah fine," he muttered. "How's your colleague, she had the baby yet?"

"Due this weekend," I responded; our chatter for weeks had been about 
banal everyday stuff not sex, although Olivia never believed that. 
"Shall we?" He pursed his lips together. "Wasn't the bet was for 1000 
points, and the loser ..."

"I know," Olivia interrupted. "This I can wait to see. I so want you to 
win, Donkeydick. I want to see him ..."

"Olivia," I snapped, exasperated my excitable lady. "Go sit on the bed!"

Donkeydick laughed at the Olivia problem; it broke the tension 
fantastically, and I slid my shoes off, kicking them into the corner of 
the room. He was certainly richer than me: his designer clothes 
indicated a level of wealth that was well in excess of what I could 
earn, but I knew from our daily Twitter chats he jetted around the world 
on business.

He was far skinnier than me too, having bulging and rippling muscles 
that caused my disloyal fiancée to coo in appreciation, as he stood in 
front of us in a bright red thong, that left very little to our 
imagination. His bulge was impressive, jutting into the room and the 
flimsy cotton struggling to hold his manhood without spilling its 
sizeable contents.

I could see Olivia's eyes bulging at the man in front of us, wearing 
just his shades and his underwear. "Wow!" It was all I could muster as I 
threw my shirt onto the floor: I was just wearing a pair of boxers.

"Don't you two want to take your shades off?" Olivia asked.

"No," we both replied together.

"Not yet," DonkeyDick added, and nervously smiled at me. I felt the 
butterflies return, mercilessly tickling my insides.

"You two look creepy with them on and ..." We both glared at her. "... I'll 
shut up then! But come on," she begged. "You promised me I'd see what I 
came to see and this is just so exciting and ..."

"I have a tape, right here," Donkeydick offered and picked up the coiled 
fabric from his bedside table as my skin felt cool to my touch: I was 
scared, nervous and worried, but I had no reason to be; I had a 95% win 
rate.

Adrenaline surged through my body, turning my blood into ice and my legs 
into immovable jelly. I could barely think, and gulped as Donkeydick 
effortlessly removed his red thong to cries of excitement from behind me.

He was well-endowed. Very well-endowed. His veiny thick manhood stood 
prominently erect and I squealed as it bobbed in front of him. "Nice, 
huh?" Donkeydick muttered, boasting as his hands cupped his erection and 
exhibited it for me. "You next."

My arms wouldn't move. I tried, but they wouldn't budge, and instead my 
eyes focused on the twitching cock in front of me. It was massive, at 
least compared to mine, and I gulped. I felt embarrassed and 
self-conscious, yet incredibly aroused by my impending humiliation. It 
was unreal, like I was looking down and watching myself staring 
enviously. "That's incredible," I muttered, looking at his smirking 
expression on his face. He knew he had me beat. Olivia was entranced.

"It's seen some action recently," he boasted. "Including that Dutch girl 
I sent you a picture of." He looked down at me and nodded. "Well get `em 
off then."

It shook my attention back to the present, and I pressed my thumbs into 
my waistband. He nodded respectfully as my cock bounced into the light, 
he offered me the tape but there was no need.His cock was both longer 
and thicker, and in the world of BigDicksNet cock compare contests, he 
was clearly victorious.

I didn't need to admit that, for both Olivia and Donkeydick to know and 
realise that I had been beaten. "Come take a picture, love," he called 
to my stunned fiancée, salivating at the prospect of her partner getting 
down on his knees. I could read her arousal and taste her excitement, as 
she fumbled with the aged camera.

We had the obligatory picture of us standing next to each other, that I 
knew would be cropped from the chin downwards before being uploaded onto 
the site, and Olivia zoomed in on our waists to highlight the sizeable 
disparity in nature's gift to us both.

My crotch fizzed in anticipation: I knew what I would have to do, and it 
began to sexually excite me. I saw his cock and wanted it, aching to 
lock my lips around his cock. I wanted Donkeydick to claim his prize; I 
wanted him to demand his trophy. I wanted him to make Olivia watch as I 
was forced to prostrate myself in front of his manhood jutting from his 
waist and make me commit an unnatural act. I needed to submit to my 
fate, as my cock stiffened harder and harder.

"On your knees," he teased. He oozed confidence, standing with his legs 
apart and his rippling muscles bulging magnificently across his chest. 
He was no longer the paranoid, skittish man in the bar, but a victorious 
warrior, ready to lay claim to his reward.

He knew my only past experience, as we had discussed it when we had set 
up the bet for the compare, but it felt so natural as my legs fell 
forward and I landed on the soft carpet with a gentle bump. His cock was 
inches from my face, and I watched it bob slightly. It was majestic: 
slightly tanned, uncircumcised and so thick. I gulped, and ran my hands 
along the front of his thighs, watching as a small pool of pre-cum 
gathered on the tip of his cock.

I closed my eyes, as I opened my mouth, leaning forward to feel the soft 
warmness on my lips for the first time for a decade. For the first time, 
since a drunken Freshers Week dare. My cock sparked, as I felt a wall of 
sexual excitement engulf my crotch, shuddering as his cock slipped into 
my mouth.

"Oh my God," Olivia squeaked from behind me. "That's ... so fucking hot!"

He tasted musky, and slightly earthy, as my hands swept over his 
muscular thighs and slid over his balls. He groaned, when my tongue 
glided effortlessly over his seeping cock and he ran his hands through 
my hair.

It felt fantastic. Everything felt divine, as I knew my fiancée was 
witness to my humiliation. My tongue swept up and down his shaft, 
sucking in his cock to make him groan in pleasure. "Your boyfriend is a 
damn good cocksucker," he cried, causing my loins to double in arousal. 
It was part of the game at BigDIcksNet: to debase the loser, and I had 
to take it. "He's had practice."

"He'll be getting a lot more," Olivia muttered. "We've just bought a 
strap-on!" DonkeyDick groaned at this; his cock swelling in my mouth. It 
was dirty, it was hot, it was unnatural. But Olivia loved it, wriggling 
on the bed as her naked fiancé sucked the cock of a stranger.

But my mind was agog with lust too. The filthiness of it. The 
debauchery. My cock swelled with anticipation, desperate to fulfil the 
bet, and have him fill my mouth with his cum. And confusion reigned 
supreme: I was straight, I had only dated girls and loved Olivia, but at 
that moment, I wanted DonkeyDick to climax in my mouth. I needed it. I 
looked up at his masked eyes, as my mouth slid over his shaft and my 
fingers toyed with his hairy balls. They felt fantastic. It felt ... right!

And with a grunt, DonkeyDick's cock twitched and he held onto the back 
of my head as several waves of cum filled my mouth. "Wow! You did it!" 
My fiancée rocked on the bed as Donkeydick winked at me.

"You want some love?"

"I ... Yeah, OK!" Olivia replied, much to my shock as she held up our 
shopping. "I have a strap-on here. You win a compare, you get what you 
want. I win, I get your arse." He gulped, suddenly the bravado was 
wavering as Olivia wriggled on her bed. "Go on. Take the dare on. Be brave."

He gulped and looked at me. "Yeah OK." This was almost getting out of 
hand, but Olivia was never in hand. Her clothes pooled at the floor in 
seconds, her strap-on dildo ripped from the box in a few more. She stood 
in front of him as I wiped the remnants of his cum from my lips.

He frantically stroked his cock, desperate to get it to full hardness as 
my fiancée stood akimbo, looking down at her fake cock pressing against 
his body. "I win," she shouted. "I win, so bend over."

All credit to Donkeydick that he didn't grumble as her dildo was 
marginally bigger; he lay across the bed. "It's all part of the game," 
he muttered as Olivia smothered her fake cock with lube and guided it 
against his bud. Our companion took deep breaths as Olivia slowly pushed 
past his ring, adopting a slow rhythm that tickled his prostate.

I could see it in his eyes; he had never had a girl fuck his arse 
before, but Olivia was firm yet gentle with her movements, and his cock 
responded. He was loving it; suddenly he was the one on the end of the 
losing compare. He was the one adopting the submissive role and he was 
the one being humiliated.

His body quivered as Olivia battered gleeful taunts against him, his 
cock twitching as my fiancée screwed him. I couldn't resist playing with 
my erect cock: it was an amazing sight, and as I reached my own point of 
no return, his body was swept into another orgasm expelling a second 
wave of cum against his duvet.

He slouched forward as Olivia slowly withdrew, smirking, and he turned 
to look at her, his shades skew-whiff. "You're Tom. Oh my God. You're ... 
we've got tickets for your show tonight!" She cried. "Oh ... I have you on 
my mug. And ... And ... I fucked Tom's arse. My fiancé sucked his cock! Oh 
My God. This is unreal."

Donkeydick shrank from the words, reluctantly discarding his 
physiological safety net, begging Olivia not to reveal his secret. There 
was no chance and every chance; Olivia would do nothing maliciously, but 
her eyes were sparkling with excitement and she would want to tell 
everyone. Chocolate Covered Sundaes were big in her friendship group.

"I don't want to be on the front page of the tabloids," he begged.

"Hell no," Olivia cried. "But hey, do you have a spot for a couple of 
groupies tonight. I would love to see you fuck his arse. And ... and I 
could give you such a good time," she offered. "Please!"

"Sure," he replied as he glanced at me for approval.

"It should worry me, but strangely doesn't," I told her with a grin!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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