Neal paused at an open door on his way back from the bathroom. He had intended to hold it until the first movie of the doubleheader ended, but the beer he’d been drinking hadn’t agreed that he could hold it a minute longer. He had leaned over and asked the event’s host, Hector, a local employee finance officer at the U.S. embassy in the Central American country much like any other Central American country, where the head was. Hector, lost in the movie, had waved him toward a corridor leading off the communal living room. It was the bedroom hallway in this glorified soldiers’ barracks Neal then discovered.

There were doorways off the hallway on each side, which, Neal assumed, if this was like other Marine Houses he’d been in, led to small, individual bedrooms for each Marine. But his near-panicked goal was a communal bathroom that was located half way down the hall. He didn’t remember having heard or seen anything on the way to the bathroom, but all he’d been thinking of then was how badly he needed to piss.

The room where Neal paused at its doorway on the way back to the room where they were showing a movie was small and Spartan, but spic and span clean and squared-away neat. Even the jeans, T-shirts, and briefs of the two men were folded neatly and placed on the seat of a straight chair next to the small desk by the bureau. Only the woman’s brightly colored dress and her red bra and panties were carelessly scattered on the floor—signaling how alien her presence there was. More than that, however, it somehow marked the room as her territory, where she reigned and was in control, at least in these moments.

The woman, a voluptuous Hispanic beauty of forty-something in age, was standing on the floor in the center of the small room. All she was wearing were red spike heels and oversized gold hoop earrings. A short, black, nicely squared away guy, obviously one of the Marines because of the buzz cut and how bulked up he was, was standing behind her as she bent over at the waist. He was stroking inside her with a hard, thick, condomed cock. He seemed quite pleased with being inside her, holding her flaring hips with his hands, but taking a hand off now and then to slap her on a butt cheek, feigning he was in charge when it was obvious she was in control. The impression that Neal got was “cocky,” which almost made him laugh, because the cock certainly was prominent in what was going on.

The black Marine looked to be about half the woman’s age, maybe not even twenty yet. At the far end of her, she was servicing the cock of another Marine with her mouth. He was tall and blond, also with a buzz cut. Where the shorter Marine was compact and muscle bound, the taller one was hard-bodied, but on the thinner side. He also was a good ten years older than the Marine working the woman’s ass. His cock, sans condom, was long and had an acute upward curve. The blond Marine had long arms and legs and wasn’t having any trouble reaching the woman’s big, melon-sized breasts with his hands. He was squeezing them hard and thumbing her dime-sized nipples. She was moaning at the attention.

The woman, who was holding onto one of the blond Marine’s thighs with one hand for stability, was rubbing her clit and the root of the black man’s cock with the fingers of the other hand. From the moaning and humming she was doing, the woman obviously wasn’t distressed about what was happening to her.

Neal was transfixed in the doorway. Three gorgeous bodies giving their all, one as arousing as the next. If any of the three saw him standing there, they obviously didn’t care. He almost laughed, though. Earlier today when he’d asked at the station in the embassy whether there was any night action going on in the city, the Agency code clerk had just told him that it was movie night at the Marine House and that, as a visiting TDYer, he’d be welcome to go there. There would be two movies and all of the beer and chili dogs he could put away.

He’d thought the young guy had misinterpreted what he had asked, but he’d just laughed it off. Often on these TDYs, he’d be buttoned down like this. When an Agency adviser came into a country like this to consult with the local service, it could go one of two ways. The service would either provide him with a variety of “safe” hookers to hump at night without asking or they’d expect him to be an invisible monk, safely tucked away in a cell when he wasn’t liaising with them. All and all Neal preferred the variety of safe hookers approach.

And here, he could see, the code clerk had been straight with him. Obviously, the action to be had was here at Marine House during movie night. At least there was a better show to be watched here than out in the communal living room, where the movies were being shown. The trio didn’t seem to mind that he was watching, so he’d watch for a while. There wasn’t a single one of these he wasn’t enjoying seeing in action.

“Together, Cap?” The speaker was the short, black, muscle-bound kid. His voice was high and squeaky, and it sounded more hopeful than sure. The other guy obviously was calling the shots between the two of them. The black Marine would be a bantam rooster around most, puffing himself up to offset his lack of height and length, but probably not with that blond guy.

“Sure, why not?” the blond guy answered in a deeper voice. “If it’s OK with you, Maria. Do you together, Momma Maria?” He pulled her torso up from her bend, her mouth slurping off his cock, to where their faces were close together. She was smiling. He dipped his mouth to ingest one of her nipples.

“Oh, sweet Jesu, Si.” Her voice was rich, low, sensual.

Momma? screamed through Neal’s brain.

The blond guy reached up and brushed her long, black hair over her shoulder on the side away from Neal, cupped her chin in his hand, and came in for a lingering kiss. The black guy at her rear, barely taller than she was, was still fucking up into her cunt from the back in slow strokes and with “Ughs,” indicating he was trying to get as deep as he could, which, from that position, wasn’t very deep.

The blond came out of the kiss. “Which one do you want, Maria?”

“The long one, of course, Sam,” She purred back at him. “Always.”

“Ass for you then, Lamont,” the blond one said over her shoulder. “Cunt for me.”

The black guy dutifully pulled out of her, adjusted his short, thick cock upward, and started working his way with it into her ass. This was actually better for him, Neal could see. He could reach deeper. The woman moaned and groaned for him and wiggled her butt, helping him to sink inside her. The blond Marine was standing off, rolling a condom onto his long, upward-curved, fully erect cock.

“Turn her up to me.”

The black Marine embraced the woman around her waist with his beefy arms and, crouching, lilted her back into his chest. Her ass was fully skewered on his upward-thrust cock. Neal took the moment to enjoy the contrast of Lamont’s chocolate-brown skin on her golden brown. When the image of the alabaster-white buttocks of the blond guy, showing the tan lines of a Speedo in stark contrast with the tanned skin otherwise, was tossed into the mix, Neal was almost humming himself.

The blond Marine sank on his knees between the woman’s spread legs, which had been lifted off the floor with her knees bent, the toes of her spiked heels barely touching bare linoleum flooring, and his mouth went right to her snatch. He was sucking hard on her clit almost immediately and working fingers into her cunt, and the woman was babbling loudly in Spanish. Her hands couldn’t make up their minds whether they wanted to be tearing at the head hair the Marine didn’t have or squeezing her own breasts, while the blond Marine’s hands moved to palming, squeezing, and pulling apart her buttocks cheeks to help give the black Marine maximum depth in her ass.

The woman turned her head up and to the side and the black guy’s face turned toward hers. The long kiss quietened her down, although her pelvis continued to writhe under the attack of the blond Marine’s tongue and teeth, while the black Marine started to revolve his hips, giving her ass, Neal imagined, a screwing sensation.

A screwing screw, he thought, amusing himself greatly.

It must have been good for the black guy, as Neal could tell when he tightened and then released his cum into the bulb of the condom inside her ass channel. He held there, though, for the other two to catch up with him.

After a minute or two of clit play with his mouth, the blond Marine stood, lifted one of the woman’s ankles to his shoulder, and slowly curved his long cock up into her cunt, sliding deep. Her fingernails went to his pecs and she dug in there. Neal could hear her sucking air as the curved cock pulled out, almost exposing the bulb, and then slid back in again deep. Out and in. Out and in.

She clutched at his shoulders. “Jesuchristie, fuck me hard, Sam!”

Answering her plaintive request, he began pumping her hard and fast. The show from that point was over rather quickly. Neal could tell when the woman exploded and then, soon thereafter, the blond Marine.

Surely they’d seen him standing there. But obviously they didn’t care.

Neal turned and left in the direction of the house’s large living area, where he could hear that the first movie was closing down with loud explosions. He’d seen the movie before, so he knew it was coming to a close. When he left the doorway to the small bedroom, the blond Marine was pulling on his T and jeans, his cock already having been cleaned by the woman, and the black Marine was sitting on the bed, with the woman kneeling between his spread legs and taking care of his cock.

“Right on time,” Neal had heard the blond Marine say when he was half way down the hall.

When he was almost to the door into the living room, he was passed by another young Marine, as young as the black one back in the bedroom, Neal thought. He looked clean-cut but with his tongue almost hanging out. In anticipation, Neal thought, doubting the kid was on the way to the head. He was dark-haired, broad shouldered, thin waisted. Quite handsome and with big hands. Athletic looking, like pretty much all young Marines. Neal thought the woman would probably enjoy his attentions. She didn’t seem to be the least picky, as long as the guy had a hard, muscled body. If there had been a chandelier in the room, Neal thought she’d probably have had this hopeful Marine swinging on it with her plastered to his pelvis. She obviously was a pro.

Neal reentered the darkened living room and went up and sat down beside the movie-night event’s host, Hector. The closing credits for the first film of the doubleheader were running on the screen. The second movie, yet another action hero fantasy shoot-’em-up adventure, would start up almost immediately. The Marines and other young, fit guys from the embassy who liked to see the movies the Marines liked to watch and who the Marines would condescend to socialize with were talking among themselves in small groups. A young Hispanic woman and even younger Hispanic guy were walking from group to group, delivering drinks and food and getting orders for more drinks and food. Both of them were very handsome kids, with good bodies as far as Neal could tell.

The short, black Marine and tall, blond, older Marine came into the room from the bedroom wing, practically arm in arm, and smiling and whispering to each other. Neal had heard the discussions about how guys who would share a woman like that were as much into each other as the woman. His own view was that Marines were so narcissistic—loving their own bodies enough to want to show them off as Marines—that most of them probably were bi anyway. Which was OK with him.

The blond Marine went straight to the bar, and behind it, and poured himself a beer. The black Marine went over and inserted himself into a group of other young Marines. Neal could hear that they were whispering and sniggering to each other.

“Those are my children, Angelina and Jorge,” Hector said after a few moments.

“Excuse me? What?” Neal said, waving his hand toward the screen to indicate he hadn’t heard Hector well over the soundtrack behind the closing credits. What he’d been doing, though, other than watching the two Marines return from their fun time in one of the Marine’s bedrooms, was watching the young Hispanic woman move. He—naturally—was feeling quite horny himself.

She had good jugs and a slim waist, the bag dress she was wearing didn’t hide that. She was built to be fucked by someone like him. Neal was imagining himself standing close behind her, being the first man to take her, those rounded orbs sitting on the tops of his thighs, and stroking up into her sweet, ripe cunt, while his hands were squeezing those jugs and she was moaning for him. She would cry out for him, firing off orgasm after orgasm, telling him he was so very, very deep inside her. He was big. She would melt to him; he hadn’t met anyone yet—woman or man—who didn’t melt with him inside them.