Training Marco
Copyright© 2026 by Deckhard
Chapter 9
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Desperate for a job, Marco is hired by the captivating Ellie and finds himself drawn into her marriage with the confident Frank. Trapped between Ellie's seduction and Frank's unsettling attention, Marco discovers desires he never knew he had. In a world with no rules, he must decide what he truly wants before he loses himself completely.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Consensual BiSexual Group Sex Spitting
# Sunday
Marco woke up early.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The room was unfamiliar, the bed was too comfortable, and the light coming through the window was different than what he was used to. Then he remembered. The farmhouse. Ellie. Frank. Everything that had happened.
All of it.
He sat up and rubbed his face. His body was sore in a good way, the kind of sore that came from using muscles you didn’t normally use. Or from being used in ways you weren’t used to.
Five times. He’d fucked Ellie five times ... four of those times were right in front of her husband. He could barely wrap his head around it. Ellie had pulled him back in every time, her hands on him, that voice in his ear, her body underneath him, around him, wanting more. The woman was insatiable. He’d thought he was the one with the high sex drive. He hadn’t stood a chance.
And then there was Frank, cheering him on. “Fuck my wife, son. Beautiful ... such a beautiful boy. She loves it. She loves the way you’re giving to her. Yeah, kid. Excellent. Fuck my beautiful wife!”
Marco rolled over and winced. His ass was sore too. Frank had spanked him a few times, hard, laughing when Marco flinched, telling him to keep moving, keep going. It had stung like hell. Marco hadn’t known what to make of it. Still didn’t. It felt good in the heat of the moment. He rubbed the spot, feeling the warmth there, and something else he didn’t want to name.
Because the truth was, the spanking wasn’t what had thrown him off. What had thrown him off was that Frank hadn’t tried anything else. He’d been right there, in the bed, naked, touching Ellie, touching Marco’s ass, his hands everywhere, but he hadn’t crossed that line. Hadn’t reached for Marco the way Marco had been waiting for him to. And Marco had been waiting. That was the part that kept circling back to him in the dark.
The last time had been the worst. Or the best. He still couldn’t decide. Ellie had been on her back, and Marco was between her legs, fucking her slow and deep, and Frank had straddled her chest, his cock fucking her mouth steadily, his hands braced on the headboard. Marco had looked up and there it was, right in front of his face. Frank’s ass, flexing with every thrust, the muscles in his back shifting, the sweat running down his skin. Marco couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop watching the rhythm of Frank’s body, the way it moved, the power of it.
He’d fought the urge to kiss the masculine curve of Frank’s lower back, the dip just above his ass. He’d wondered what it would be like to press his lips there, to taste the sweat on Frank’s skin, and at one point, the thought had flashed through his mind: what would Frank’s crinkled hole taste like if he just leaned in and touched it with his tongue? The thought was so raw, so forbidden, it had made his stomach clench.
Instead he’d reached up and put his hands on Frank’s hips. For balance, he told himself. He needed something to steady himself. That was all.
But his hands had stayed there. His fingers had pressed into Frank’s skin, felt the muscle underneath, the heat of him, and Frank hadn’t moved away. Hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t said a word. Just let Marco’s hands rest on him, like it was nothing, like it was normal. And Marco had held on, his hips still moving, his cock still inside Ellie, his hands on Frank, and something had built inside him that was bigger than any of the parts.
He looked at the clock on the nightstand. Six fifteen. He needed to get ready for work.
He got out of bed and pulled on his boxers and a t-shirt. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back. His eyes were bright, his skin was flushed, and there was something different about his face. He had gotten laid. Five times.
He went downstairs.
The kitchen was empty. No Frank. No Ellie. Just the morning light coming through the window and the quiet of the house.
Marco went to the coffee maker and started making coffee. He found the filters, the grounds, measured them out, filled the pot with water. While he waited for it to brew, he leaned against the counter and stared out the window at the fields.
He heard footsteps behind him.
Frank walked into the kitchen. He was wearing sweatpants and nothing else, his chest bare, his hair still messy from sleep. He went to the table and sat down.
“Hey Romeo, there’s no work today.”
Marco turned around. “What?”
“It’s Sunday. We’re closed on Sundays.”
Marco stared at him. He’d completely lost track of what day it was. “Oh. Right.”
Frank smiled and leaned back in his chair. “How’s the coffee coming?”
“Almost done.”
“Good.” Frank stretched, his arms over his head, his chest expanding. Marco tried not to look but couldn’t help it. Frank’s body was lean and defined, the dark hair on his chest, the line of muscle disappearing into his sweatpants.
Marco turned back to the coffee maker. His face was hot.
A moment later, he felt Frank behind him.
Frank stepped up close. His chest pressed against Marco’s back, and Marco could feel the heat of him through his t-shirt, the scratch of chest hair, the solid weight of his body. Frank’s hands went under Marco’s shirt from behind. His fingers found Marco’s nipples and started playing with them. Gentle at first, then more deliberate. Tracing circles, pinching lightly, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers.
Marco froze. His hands were flat on the counter. He didn’t move. His breath caught in his throat, and his cock started getting hard in his boxers.
Frank’s face appeared next to his. His chin on Marco’s shoulder, his breath warm on Marco’s ear. Frank turned his head and kissed Marco’s cheek. The scratch of his mustache against Marco’s skin made him shiver.
“Hey, Frank.” Ellie’s voice came from the doorway. “Stop doing that. You don’t want to scare him off.”
Frank didn’t move his hands. He kept playing with Marco’s nipples, pinching and rolling, and his lips brushed against Marco’s ear when he spoke.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
Marco swallowed. His throat was tight. He shook his head.
“She worries too much,” Frank said, loud enough for Ellie to hear. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You always say that,” Ellie said. “You said that about the grill last summer.”
“The grill worked out fine.”
“You burned half my garden.”
Frank chuckled against Marco’s ear, and the vibration of it went through Marco’s whole body. “She’s always on me about something,” he said, low, just for Marco. “You’ll get used to it.”
His hands slid out from under Marco’s shirt. He gripped Marco’s shoulders and turned him around, so they were face to face. Marco’s back was against the counter now, and Frank was standing right in front of him, close, their bodies almost touching.
Frank pulled Marco’s shirt up and off his body, then he tossed it to the floor. Then he leaned in and kissed the boy’s nose. Light. Playful. Then he kissed Marco’s mouth.
It was soft at first. Just a press of lips. Frank’s mustache scratched against Marco’s upper lip, and his breath was warm. He smelled like coffee. Then Frank’s mouth opened slightly, and his tongue touched Marco’s lip, and Marco opened his mouth too, and their tongues met.
Marco didn’t know why he was kissing back. Didn’t know why his hands were still on the counter and not pushing Frank away. Didn’t know why his cock was getting harder. He just knew that Frank’s mouth was warm and his tongue was insistent and it felt good. It felt wrong and right at the same time, and he couldn’t stop.
Frank pulled back from the kiss and wrapped his arms around Marco. Pulled him in. Hugged him, and Marco could feel Frank’s bare chest against his, the hair, the warmth, the muscle. Frank’s hands moved down Marco’s back, slow and deliberate, down to his ass, and he squeezed. Both cheeks. His palms warm through the thin cotton of Marco’s boxers, his fingers digging in just enough to make Marco gasp.
Frank started rubbing. His hands moved in circles on Marco’s ass, squeezing and caressing, and his hips pressed forward. Marco could feel it. Frank’s cock, hard through his sweatpants, pressing against Marco’s cock through his boxers. The friction was maddening, two layers of fabric between them, and Marco wanted more and didn’t want to admit he wanted more.
Then Frank’s hands moved to Marco’s waistband. He pulled down Marco’s boxers in one quick motion, and they fell to the floor. Marco was naked from the waist down, his cock hard and exposed, the tip already wet. Frank pushed down his own sweatpants, and his cock was out too, hard and thick, the head flushed dark. He pulled Marco close again.
Their cocks pressed together. Skin on skin. The heat of it, the softness of Frank’s skin against the hardness underneath, the slick wetness where their tips met. Frank started moving his hips, rubbing them against each other, and Marco’s eyes closed. The friction sent sparks up his spine. He could feel every ridge, every vein, the way Frank’s cock slid against his, the way their balls pressed together when Frank thrust forward.
Ellie came close. She was still in her nightgown, thin and white, her nipples visible through the fabric. She stepped up beside them and reached down. Her hand found both their cocks and pressed them together, holding them against each other, her fingers wrapped around both shafts. Marco groaned. Her palm was soft and warm, and she squeezed them together. The sensation was overwhelming. Her hand and Frank’s cock and his own cock all pressed together, and he didn’t know where one sensation ended and the other began.
She started moving her hand, stroking them both at the same time, her fingers tightening and loosening. Frank’s hips kept moving, and the three of them found a rhythm. It was wet and hot and obscene, the sound of skin on skin, the slick of pre-come, Ellie’s soft murmurs, Frank’s low grunts.
Frank looked at Marco. “Are you scared?”
Marco opened his eyes. Frank’s face was right there, his dark eyes warm and wanting, his mustache curved in a smile, his breath coming faster now.
Marco shook his head.
Frank kissed him again. This time it was deeper, more urgent, and Marco kissed back, their tongues moving together. He didn’t know why he wasn’t running away. Didn’t know why he was standing here with his cock pressed against another man’s while a woman held them together. Didn’t know why it felt so right when it should feel wrong.
He just let Frank do what he wanted. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that was exactly what Frank and Ellie had planned from the beginning.
Ellie let go of their cocks and stepped back.
“Let’s go to the bed, boys.”
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