Chapter 6

What had happened to me in such a short time was nothing short of unreal. First, I dumped Brit—my hot, but high-maintenance girlfriend—and within days I was in the arms of Kari and Ken, a dangerously seductive couple who unlocked doors in me I didn’t even know existed.

I was high. Not on drugs, but on lust. On pleasure. On the mind-blowing reality that I was living out my dirtiest, wildest fantasies with two of the most uninhibited, gorgeous people I’d ever met.

Kari and Ken were the perfect combination of sweet, smart, fun, and freaky. And not just freaky—they were artists in the bedroom. They worshipped me. Loved my youth, my energy, my eagerness. They made me feel wanted in a way Brit never could. They took their time. They paid attention. They played with me like I was a priceless new toy that had just arrived on their doorstep—still fresh, still full of promise.

Every second with them was a new flavor of ecstasy. I was a kid in a cosmic candy store, overwhelmed and hungry for more. I honestly couldn’t imagine a future without them, and I knew they felt the same. We were electric.

After surviving a cold childhood and a lifeless relationship, it was as if the Universe had finally cracked a smile and handed me a ticket to paradise. I wasn’t just lucky—I was blessed. I had been handpicked by the gods of pleasure, joy, and connection. The entire choreography of atoms, insects, lovers, galaxies—everything—had shifted just so I could get my brains fucked out by this perfect couple.

I am that important.

Okay, okay ... maybe not. That’s not how the universe works. But maybe, just maybe, life gives you these moments—these gifts. If you’re lucky, they burn bright enough to guide you through the dark times. And right now? I was basking in the fire.

So—back to it. I had just followed Kari inside, still flushed from Ken’s wild pounding. She was radiant and ready, and I was about to fuck this pop goddess like she was headlining her own X-rated world tour.

She fucked like a star on stage—think Britney or Taylor, soaked in sweat, body on fire, dancing and grinding for hours with that hypnotic intensity. I was charged up. We fucked for what felt like forever—every position I knew, and a few I probably invented on the spot. I was relentless, driven by raw instinct and a need to see her fall apart beneath me.

“Grab her hips and fuck her hard, buddy,” Ken growled, eyes ablaze as he stood close, watching every thrust like it was a sacred ritual. “That’s it, my sweet boy. Go deeper. She lives for this ... don’t you, Kari?”

“God, YES!” she moaned, voice wrecked and deliciously breathless under the savage rhythm of my cock.

“Turn her around. Fuck her from behind.”

“Yes, sir.”

With Ken’s hands helping, we flipped her like a rag doll, and I dove into her from behind, clutching her hips and slamming into her slick heat. Then I rolled her onto her back, fucking her while locking eyes with her glowing green gaze. I shifted her onto her side, her toned leg draped over my shoulder as I drove into her soaking wet slit. I even flipped her upside down, balancing her on her shoulders as I pounded her from a new angle that made her scream like a rockstar at the climax of her show.

Ken was in pure bliss, watching his wife get destroyed in the best way. Every time I paused to breathe, he kissed me hungrily, spat into my mouth, smacked my ass and whispered filthy encouragement that made my cock throb harder. He played conductor, never missing a beat—flicking Kari’s clit, licking our sweat, pinching nipples, murmuring filthy praise like a man high on love and desire.

And Kari? She was electric. Suddenly her body jolted—”OHHHH FUCK YES”—and she pulled back hard, making my cock slip out of her just as she squirted uncontrollably, soaking the floor and her thighs in a hot rush.

I grunted and grabbed my cock, stroking hard until ropes of my cum splashed all over her twitching, soaked body.

And then Ken—devoted, filthy Ken—sank down and worshipped her. He licked her breasts, her stomach, her pussy, his tongue cleaning every sticky drop of my release from her glistening skin like she was a goddess offering holy nectar.

“This one deserves an award,” Kari announced, smiling faintly as she wiped the sweat from her flushed body. “That was one helluva fuck session!”

“Yeah,” Ken agreed with a deep, satisfied chuckle. “I’ll fuck him as good and hard as he fucked you. He deserves it.”

Now, with your permission, I’d like to skip forward a little. There’s just too much to tell, and not enough time to tell it all. I’ll stick to the juiciest parts—the parts you’ll feel in your gut and groin.

This is my story, after all. Imagine we’re sitting around a campfire, and I’m the friend telling you a story that makes you flush hot and breathless, maybe even sneak a hand beneath your waistband while you listen.

So, until Sunday afternoon when I finally headed home, the three of us were insatiable. We drank wine, tried to watch a couple of movies but couldn’t focus—someone’s hands always wandered, someone always ended up on their knees. We laughed, talked, and fucked like there was no tomorrow. And after all the fucking ... we fucked some more.

At one point, due to a wildfire spreading fast in my ass, Ken graciously stayed away from it for a while. Kari took over, doting and sweet, gently caring for me with soothing ointments and soft kisses.

I didn’t want to go home—but I had to.

When I finally made it back, I was exhausted. But I wore a dazed, well-fucked smile that didn’t leave my face for two whole days.

At the sawmill, my coworkers noticed. They gave me shit for it, of course—smirking, elbowing me. When I gave them a redacted version of the weekend—edited down for straight-male consumption—they cheered.

In my version, Kari became the star of my little R-rated tale, while Ken’s role disappeared entirely. Somehow I didn’t think they’d take the news of my ass getting pounded into oblivion too well. Coming out in a place full of chainsaws and buzzcut masculinity isn’t the wisest move. I like my limbs where they are.

That Friday, I went back to Kari and Ken’s place. We were even filthier this time. The burn in my ass had faded enough for me to tempt fate again. I told Ken he could go as hard and as deep as he wanted—and he did.

Kari, as always, made sure I was ready. She lubed me, stretched me, kissed me, stroked my cock, toyed with my nipples while her husband wrecked me with slow, brutal thrusts. Her sweet moans and filthy encouragement drove me wild.

By my fourth visit, I was fully broken in. Oh, the initial entry always had that sting—that sharp, dizzying stretch that sent shivers through my whole body. But it was addictive. Pain wrapped in pleasure, agony dressed in silk.

I loved it.

We were thick as thieves by then—lovers and best friends. I even took a week off work so we could indulge in a full-blown fuckfest. Seven days. No rules. No clocks.

We played like honeymooners. We made love, we power-fucked, we got nasty. Spit play, golden showers, spanking. They tied me down a few times and took me in every way they wanted.

Yes, Kari had a strap-on—and yes, she knew exactly what she was doing with it.

I was their willing, aching sub, and I loved it. That gentle, giving side of me—the part that just wants to be used and adored—had found its place with them.

Ken was naturally dominant, Kari learned quickly, and I ... I bloomed under their control.

We tried everything. Roleplay became a favorite. Teacher and student. Doctor and patient. Stranger and hitchhiker. We let our minds wander, and our bodies followed.

The last night of our honeymoon week was the wildest.

We were in the kitchen. Kari and I were washing dishes, nude and glowing. Well—almost nude. She had a sarong slung low on her hips, and I was in a towel that barely stayed on.

I had just shelved the last mug when Ken came up behind me, his big arms sliding around my waist. He pulled me into him—slow, warm, tender. Like I was something precious.

Kari knew what was coming. She cleared the kitchen table with a playful smirk, yanked the towel from my waist, folded it neatly, and laid it down like a cushion. Then she climbed up and scooted back, leaving space for me at the edge—right where Ken would want me.

Ken grabbed me firmly under the arms and lifted me like I weighed nothing—his strength always stunned me. He placed me at the edge of the kitchen table, directly in front of Kari. Her hands slid beneath my thighs, spreading me wide before pulling me tight into her embrace.

I gasped as her soft, warm breasts pressed into my back, her nipples hard against my skin. She kissed the back of my neck, her breath hot, her arms wrapping around me. The wet heat of her body pressed against the small of my back.

Ken didn’t waste a second. He reached for the lube, slicked his thick shaft, and stepped between my legs, his cock in hand. He locked eyes with me for a moment—checking, always checking—and when I nodded, he slowly pushed forward.