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Pool Boy Makes Three


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This is a continuation of my story, "The Pool Boy" that I wrote for the third Storiversary.  As always, same disclaimers apply: always practice safe sex, all references to real people are coincidental, etc.  Also, traumatic events in the lives of others should always be addressed by professional.  If you or someone you know was traumatized in the past, please seek help as soon as possible.  Old wounds don't heal unless treated.


Brett arrived at the Martinson's villa ten minutes early, just as he intended.  Normally on a night like this, he'd be at home with nary a stitch of clothing on his heavily-muscled body, rubbing out one of many loads to his own Herculean physique for the many adoring worshipers on his livestream.  Unless it was Friday or Saturday, at which time he'd be at a night club, picking up a hot date for the night or possibly the weekend.  However, tonight was special.  It was Alec and Helena Martinson's twentieth wedding anniversary, and Alec, a professor of anatomy and physiology at the local university, had procured Brett's services for a special surprise for his wife, who was an opera singer and professor of music history at the same university.  Letting himself in using the hidden key under the doormat, he began setting up for the Martinsons' arrival, for they were having a lovely dinner at a restaurant he suggested.  

If everything's going according to plan, Brett thought, they're having dessert while Paolo is playing the Liebesträume.  The young muscle-god was well acquainted with Paolo, he of the nimble fingers whose skills as a muscle worshiper were matched by his skills as a concert pianist.  Helena Martinson's specialty in music history was the late Romantic period, and the three nocturnes by Franz Lizst were her personal favorite instrumental compositions.  It was also a subtle hint to her as to how the evening would end, as she had read the poem which is associated with the second of the three nocturnes.

The soft rumble of car tires on an asphalt driveway told Brett that Alec and Helena were home.  He lowered the lights and waited in the living room for them to arrive.  He heard the door open as they entered their home.

"Dinner was lovely, Alec darling," Helena cooed as she came in with her husband.  She gasped as she saw the trail of red rose petals leading toward their bedroom.

"The evening's not over yet, sweetie," Alec responded, his voice low in a suggestion of passion.  As they entered the living room, they saw Brett draped over the couch, wearing nothing but a bright red Speedo.

"Happy anniversary, you two," he purred, putting on his best Don Juan impression.  "Tonight, you two are getting a rare treat.  You get me, all to yourselves, the whole night long."  He had been wanting to have a threesome with Alec and Helena for some time, as have the Martinsons, but Alec wanted their first time to be on their wedding anniversary.  Helena smiled as she kissed her husband in joy.

"Oh, darling, you did remember!" she exclaimed.  They made out for a brief moment before Alec palmed her ass.

"Of course, sweetheart.  You don't think I'd forget your 'Tristan und Isolde' fantasy, would you?"  A couple of years ago, when they both agreed to help Brett manage his stage-3 hypertesticulosis, Helena had fantasized about having a ménage à trois with her husband and the muscular sex-fiend that had breezed into their lives, inspired by the opera by Richard Wagner.  He kept it in his mind, recalling it nearly every time Brett came by for his "treatment."  Now, her fantasy was about to be made real in her very own home.  Brett stood to his full height, ready to dispense with the formalities.

"Now, let's bring this night to a mind-blowing finish," Brett said as he flexed his mountainous biceps, inviting the Martinsons to what he called "the muscle-feast."  They quickly approached him, their hands exploring his powerful muscles as clothes were gradually removed.  Shirts and blouses, slacks and skirts, all ended up in a pile in one corner, where they would eventually make their way to the laundry hamper.  Brett gave both of them the first of many passionate kisses as his meaty hands, callused from many hours in the gym, slid down their backs.  As he removed his Speedo, he looked to Helena.

"Ladies first," he purred as he wrapped his powerful arms around her lithe torso.  In one swift motion, he lifted her into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as Alec's hands felt the hardness of his god's biceps go from stone to steel.  He moaned as he watched his lover plunge a huge cock into his wife's wet pussy, her musical moans filling the room.

"Oh, Brett!" she cried out.  "You're such a treasure!  So much power and beauty and passion in one man... How can you be human!?" He growled in building lust as he plowed her ass with wild abandon as Alec gazed at the passionate scene.  He always had a fantasy of having a threesome, but he never dreamed it would happen.

"Who says I am human?" Brett responded between grunts.  "As far as you know, I could be Hercules incarnate, or another of Zeus's children.  Mmmm, fuck yeah.  Get ready, Mrs. M.  This is gonna be a good one."

"Please, dear, call me Helena," she moaned, her mind nearly consumed by lust.  "I want us to be very intimate."  She felt her own orgasm nearing as she grabbed Brett's biceps the moment he flexed them.  As Brett fucked her hands-free, Alec's own arms went around his wide torso to feel his god's powerful pecs and abs from the rear, his body against the larger man's barn-door-wide lats.

"Hold on, Helena," he growled.  "You too, Marc.  Raaagh, fuck yeah!  Ohhh, FUCK!  AAAGH!  FUCK YEAH!" Throwing his head back, he let out a resonant shout as his cock erupted in her ass, filling her pussy with his seed.  He knew that this would be the first of many loads emptied that night.  He also recalled, in the throes of orgasm, a conversation he had with Marc the day before, when this threesome was arranged.

"What I'm about to tell you," Marc began, seeming more vulnerable than before, "is something that only my doctor and Helena know, and I would like to keep it between the four of us."  Brett nodded, and Marc continued.  "Due to... a traumatic event in my youth which is too difficult for me to even think of, let alone discuss, I am infertile.  We have wanted a child of our own so very badly, but have been unable to conceive because of my medical history.  That is why I am asking you for a... rather unique favor for our anniversary."

"Of course, Mr. M.," Brett responded, sitting by his side with a snifter of brandy in hand.  "I'll help you however I am able.  It's the least I can do for yours and Mrs. M's help in managing my condition."

"Thank you," he said with a smile, "and please, call me Marc.  I discussed this with my wife a week ago, and she would like you to be her sperm donor.  But she hates fertility clinics.  So cold and impersonal, and I've seen what she means.  When we get together after dinner, I would like you to make love to her while I worship your godlike body.  We would love to have your child, to raise it as our own.  The three of us, together, co-parenting your son or daughter with love."

Brett smiled, his cock stirring as it always did when his mind drifted to lust.  "I'd love to give you both a child.  Who knows?  They might turn out to be a son with the same condition as me." He chuckled as he thought of the festivities that would ensue.

As soon as his orgasm ceased, Brett slid his cock out of Helena's pussy and slowly lowered her to the ground, as a demonstration of his superior strength.  She sighed in lust as she kissed him passionately.

"You were amazing, Brett, as always," she cooed, a hand lightly on his meaty pecs.  "Now, I do believe that this was only act one." She glanced at Marc with a wink.  Confused, Marc looked from his wife to his lover.  Marc smiled knowingly and turned to Marc.  Giving him a soul-searing kiss that would weaken the knees of even the most stalwart of minds, Marc slid a finger into Marc's ass as Helena sat down on the couch, fingering her pussy as she watched the men she loved express their lust and passion.  The professor's hands explored every inch of Brett's physique, followed shortly after by his eager mouth as he licked and sucked on his muscle-god's erect nipples.  Marc licked and kissed his way from Brett's pecs to his iron-hard eight-pack abs down along the treasure trail to his eleven-inch monster cock.  As Marc took Brett's cock into his mouth, Helena recalled another conversation she had with Marc just that morning, while her husband was in his office.

"No doubt my husband has told you of his... condition," she began, "and I can trust you to be discreet about it."

"Of course, Mrs. M," Brett responded.  "The only way anyone else will know is if you or he feel they should know."

"Thank you," she said with a smile, her middle-class London accent adding an almost musical tone to her words.  "Marc is too bashful to discuss certain things about himself, which is why he gave me leave to discuss them.  You see, the reason for his... trauma is because a relative of his-- I would not call them 'family,' for no family would subject their own loved one to such a hateful act," she growled out these last words, as if the very thought boiled her blood, "is because he came out as bisexual.  He would've rather be intimate with a man, but due to pressure from his relatives and his trauma, he married me.  We love each other dearly, but he's never been with a man before you.  I know he wanted the three of us to have a threesome; it was a fantasy of mine ever since I studied the opera 'Tristan und Isolde.'"

"I think I read up on that," Brett said, thoughtful.  "Wasn't that one of Wagner's operas?  The guy who supposedly hated Jewish people?"

She waved the comment away.  "Oh, it's not as simple as that, but that's for another time.  Since you know of the opera, you recall the prevailing events that drive the plot?"  Brett may not have been in her class, but he did learn a thing or two about the opera in his spare time.

"Um, let's see," he began, thinking.  "Isolde was married to King Mark, but was having an affair with Tristan?  Or was it the other way around?"

"No, you're correct," Helena said, sounding every bit like the patient professor that she was.  "Instead of causing a big hullabaloo like Tristan and Isolde's affair did, I thought we could arrange something that would be in three acts, much like the opera.  Act one would be with you and one of us, act two would have you with the other, while the third act would involve all three of us together.  What do you say?  Will you be our Tristan?"  Brett smiled as his cock rose in lust, his response clear on his face.

As Marc gave in to his urges, he moaned in unbridled lust, his mouth full of his muscle-god's cock.  Brett face-fucked Marc gently at first before increasing his speed and intensity.  With each thrust, Marc's moans grew louder and more intense, the closer he came to his lust overflowing.  Before long, he stood up and jumped into Marc's waiting arms.

"Fuck me, my god!" he exclaimed, his ass inches from Brett's cock.  "I wanna feel you inside me as you cum." With a lusty growl, Brett shoved his cock into Marc to the hilt, knowing that the latter could take it.

"AAAHHH, you're so huge, Brett," he cried out as Brett's cock filled him up.  "Uhh, I... I think I'm in love with you, my muscle god."

"Oh, I think we both are, darling," Helena moaned from the couch, writhing in lust.  "Go on, love.  Give him what you gave me." With a low roar, he began plowing Marc with unbridled passion, their grunts and moans of pleasure ringing throughout the house.  Marc may not have completely recovered from his unspoken trauma, but for this one moment, he was able to put it aside and revel in sex with his muscle god.

With a studly roar, Brett erupted into Marc, filling his guts with muscle god cum.  His muscles seemed harder and more defined than ever, veins criss-crossing nearly every surface of his body.  He held Marc on his cock, still steel-hard and still ready to go.  He grinned as he looked from Marc to Helena.

"Now for act 3," he said as he headed to the bedroom, Marc still mounted on his cock.  Helena followed close behind her husband and lover, her pussy wet and ready for even more.  Marc was still flabbergasted, despite his extensive knowledge of hypertesticulosis, that Brett could still be hard after cumming twice.  For a brief moment, he considered that he might not, in fact, be completely human.  Maybe he is a demi-god, he thought as Brett lowered himself and Marc to the bed.  Helena positioned herself in front of her husband, his cock harder than it had ever been, thanks in part to the veritable baseball bat filling his ass.

"Oh, shit, I've never been this hard, love," Marc moaned to his wife.  "Let's finish this!  I want us all to cum together!"  Helena moaned in approval as Brett began to plow Marc's ass anew.  Marc kept in time with his god's thrusts, giving his wife everything he had to bring her to orgasm.  The three kissed in various combinations as they sealed their relationship in unbridled lust.  Grunts and moans rang through the room, punctuated by shouts of all three of their names, though mostly Brett's.  They were his willing lovers, and he was their muscle god.

In moments, where before there were three people fucking in a chain of lust, a trio of orgasmic shouts sounded at once, as the three lovers-- Marc, Helena, and Brett-- came at once, their bodies writhing in the throes of an orgasm which seemed to continue for an hour or more.  Brett's body looked harder than steel, built like a Greek god and worthy of Mount Olympus or any of Zeus's many children.  When their orgasms subsided, they lay down on the bed together in a threefold embrace.  They moaned in post-coital bliss, hands caressing Brett's powerful, godlike body.

"Oh, Brett darling," Helena moaned, "that was the best anniversary gift I've ever received."

"I'm glad you approve, Helena," Brett purred, "because that will be the first of many threesomes we have together."  As the three removed cock from asses and pussies, Marc and Helena positioned themselves on either side of Brett, laying on his substantial pecs as the three fell asleep, enjoying their new life together.

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This is an evolution of what we have read about our muscle god. It looks like he found two people that he can share a life with. 

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Delicious and romantic with the openess of the couple and the interplay with the opera. I love bisexual content. Thank you!

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Love that your wrote a continuation to The Pool Boy, plus we can never have enough bisexual threesomes. Keep up the great work!

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