Three Young Men Fucked Me at an Isolated Country Estate

That late-June morning, when the lockdown was finally lifted, I knew I had been holding back an urge for far too long—an urge I could no longer go on denying.

My wife, Marta, had gone back to the office for the first time in weeks. Before leaving, while we ate breakfast in silence, she warned me that she would be having lunch with some coworkers and that I shouldn't wait for her. I kissed her forehead and, as soon as the sound of the elevator disappeared down the stairwell, I knew what I was going to do.

We had been dragging an unfinished conversation behind us for months. When the lockdown began, I worked as a security guard—one of the few jobs considered essential—and a colleague, Tomás, had fallen ill with the bug. He had been seriously ill. When he left the hospital, he decided to retire and move back to his village. That scare pushed me to confess part of what had happened years earlier on a trip to Barcelona, one night in a hotel with Tomás and another man. I told her the bare minimum, the sensations of that first time when I let a guy fuck me. I kept everything else quiet: the beach, the nights in the park, the hookups with strangers behind the big-box stores.

“You're a fucking idiot,” she told me when I finished. “You should have told me from the beginning.”

She didn't speak to me for days. Then, as always happens, routine won out. She started asking questions. Details. Whether I had liked it more when they put it in me or when, on some nights, she had put it in me with a strap-on. I answered without thinking. From then on, the harness disappeared from the drawer, and the two of us kept our desires locked away like a secret that weighed too much.

That was why, as soon as the lock clicked that morning, I went into the bathroom. I cleaned myself carefully, worked lubricant in with two fingers, and dressed in loose shorts, underwear, a T-shirt, and sneakers. I put my phone, bus card, and twenty euros into a waist bag. I still couldn't find the car keys—it was another story—so I walked to the bus stop.

Half an hour later, I was getting off in front of Bellver Tower. I walked to the River Gardens, where someone had told me things happened. I didn't see anyone. I continued to the vacant lot behind the old railway stop, a patch of hard-packed dirt with three or four cars parked there and a white BMW with tinted windows.

Three guys were smoking beside the trunk. They barely raised their heads when I approached.

“Hello, old man,” one of them greeted me.

They were very young, none of them more than twenty-two. Close-cropped hair, fitted T-shirts, short track pants, white sneakers, thin chains around their necks, caps. One was Black and, without meaning to, I looked at him twice. He was taller than the other two, nearly six foot two, slim, with huge eyes and a mouth that made me swallow hard.

“Where are you headed, boss?” asked the one who seemed to be in charge. He was skinny and about my height.

“Where do you think?” another answered, shorter and stockier. “Looking for cock. Right?”

“Well, you can get your fill here,” the skinny one said with a smile. “Niko likes you.”

The Black guy put a hand on his bulge without taking his eyes off me. I stood there, weighing the risk. They were too young for my taste: I preferred mature men like Tomás. But no one had touched me in months, and there were three cocks a yard away.

“But here, out in the open?” I asked.

“No, man. We've got a place. Close by.”

Every alarm in the world went off inside me at once. Getting into a car with three strangers and letting them drive me God knew where was stupid. And yet I opened the door.

“You drive, Tato,” the skinny one told the stocky guy as he tossed him the keys.

Niko sat in front, Tato took the wheel, and the skinny one—Rulo, they called him—settled beside me in the back seat. I didn't even have time to fasten my seat belt. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up.

“Hey, take it easy,” I protested.

“Fuck, what tits,” he said, and pinched one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He wrapped an arm behind my neck and leaned in. He kissed me with a fury I hadn't expected, biting my lips and thrusting his tongue all the way in while his other hand squeezed my chest. The car had already started moving. Through the window, the city rushed past.

“Lift your ass,” he ordered.

I did as he said. With one tug, he pulled my shorts and underwear down to my ankles. I was naked from the waist down in the back seat of a car traveling along an avenue in broad daylight.

“Spread your legs, for fuck's sake.”

He kissed my neck, bit my earlobe, and pawed at my nipples. His hand moved down, deliberately avoiding my cock, and went straight to my ass.

“Get your hole right to the edge of the seat.”

I positioned myself as he asked. He circled a finger around my sphincter and, when he felt it slick with lube, laughed.

“What a filthy old man you are. You came with your ass ready.”

“Ah!” escaped me when he slipped in a second finger.

“Tato, this one's got his little hole all greased up.”

He took off his shirt and lowered his pants in the cramped space of the seat. He was completely shaved and well-defined, with a long, slim cock that was already hard. He grabbed me by the nape and pushed my head toward his lap.

“Eat it, old man.”

It was hard as a rock. I held it carefully, pulled the skin down to uncover the head, and ran my tongue over the frenulum, slowly, leaving a trail of saliva. Just as I began to open my mouth to swallow it, Tato turned his head to look, and a blaring horn made him jerk the wheel. Rulo's cock reached my gag reflex, and we both groaned at the same time.

“Tato, you asshole, fuck your mother!”

I didn't dare bend down again. We continued kissing, letting his fingers—one, two, three—do what his cock couldn't do yet.

***

The car stopped in what looked like a cobbled courtyard. When I got out, barefoot from the waist down and with the waist bag still hanging ridiculously from my hip, I realized we were at an isolated country estate, without a soul in sight. An old whitewashed farmhouse with two fig trees and a well.

“Where are we?”

“A friend's estate,” Rulo said. “He works as a caretaker. The owners hardly ever come here.”

“And him?”

“Around somewhere. He likes little asses like yours too, so don't worry.”

They took me into a large room with an unlit fireplace, an old sofa, a table with four chairs, and a bed at the back, made with the military neatness that gives away someone who has been through the barracks. Rulo pushed me against it, grabbed my ass with both hands, kissed me again with that same fury, and kept pushing me downward until I was on my knees in front of his cock.

“Suck it properly.”

I grabbed his balls with my left hand, held the shaft with my right, and pulled down the foreskin. I looked him in the eyes and blew my hot breath over the head before opening my mouth. I saw his jaw clench.

“Fuck...”

I ran my tongue all over it, from base to tip, leaving it shining. I love the wet sound of a cock being sucked properly. I pressed my tongue against the hole in the center and then made a full circle around the rim of the head. When I began swallowing it down to my throat, his fingers dug into the back of my neck and a deep groan escaped his chest.

“Yes, old man. Like that. Like that.”

But he wouldn't let me finish. He pulled me up by the arm.

“I don't want to come yet,” he said. “I want to put it in that little hole of yours.”

He took me to the bed, removed my sneakers and socks, took off his own, and laid me on my back. He drew my legs up toward my chest, put a pillow beneath my lower back, and raised my ass until my sphincter was level with him.

“This way I can see your face while I fuck you.”

He rested the tip of his cock against my asshole and began entering slowly. I felt every inch forcing its way in until his balls slapped against me.

“Ah!”

He lay over my body, bit my lips, and kissed me. He waited a few seconds for me to adjust, then began to move. He pulled out almost to the tip and drove it back into me with a sharp thrust of his hips.

He picked up the pace. His cock went in and out faster and faster. His skin gleamed with sweat, his face was fixed on mine, and the muscles in his neck were taut. Every thrust dragged a sound from deep in my chest. He smelled like a young guy, cheap cologne, and clean sweat.

“Oh, my boy!”

I felt it coming the way it always comes to me: from my lower belly upward, a sensation like an orgasm but longer, more widespread. I grabbed his wrists and bit the right one when I exploded inside.

“I'm coming! I'm coming!”

A long stream of cum escaped over my belly without my cock having been touched at all. He didn't stop moving. He increased the pace for a few more seconds, let out a roar, and emptied himself inside me in four or five spasms. He kissed me with his tongue down my throat, and when he pulled out, a thread of his semen continued dripping onto the pillow.

“What a fuck, Rulo,” Tato said from the foot of the bed.

I had completely forgotten about the other two. Tato was already naked, masturbating a cock much shorter than Rulo's but twice as thick. He looked at me like someone looking at a plate of food after a fast.

“Please, wait a little,” I begged.

“No fucking way. Get on all fours, old man. I like it doggy-style.”

He climbed onto the bed, grabbed me by the ankles, turned me over, and, pulling my hair, forced me up onto my hands and knees.

“What an ass!” he said, then bit my right buttock hard.

“Ah!”

“You left his hole smeared with cum, Rulo.”

“Even better. That way it'll slide in.”

Tato positioned himself behind me, pushed my lower back down so I would stick my ass out, spread my cheeks with both hands, and, without warning, buried himself in me to the balls in a single thrust.

“Aaah!”

“There, old man, it'll pass.”

“Pull it out...”

“Shh. Hold on. Hold on.”

It hurt like it hadn't hurt me in a long time. That guy was as wide as a clenched fist. He waited a few seconds for my body to adjust, then began thrusting, slowly at first, faster afterward. The pain gradually became something else. Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he rubbed my prostate with such precision that I saw stars. My cock, without anyone touching it, moved to the rhythm of his hips, spitting drops with every thrust.

“Fuck, that feels good!”

A slap on my ass. Another. His fingers dug into my hips. White midday sunlight came through the window. I had bitten my fists into the sheet.

A second orgasm came, as intense as the first. I collapsed forward, my legs weakening, and his cock slipped out all at once. Tato swore, yanked my legs apart, drove himself back in, and sprawled over my back. He bit my shoulder, my nape. He sped up even more, and when he came, I felt him swell inside me and release contraction after contraction, an amount of cum that seemed never to end.

“You bastard!”

He collapsed on top of me, panting, whispering things in my ear that I no longer remember.

***

“Come on, Tato, for fuck's sake, it's my turn,” Niko said from the sofa.

Until then, he hadn't said a word. When I raised my head, I saw him sitting there completely naked, holding his cock in one hand. Just seeing it took my breath away. It was the longest one I had ever seen in my life, long and thin, reaching past his navel. This isn't a cliché: it was simply a beast, matte in color and almost purple at the tip.

“Please, no!” I said. “My ass won't be able to take that.”

“Come on, little slut,” Tato replied. “Get on your knees there on the sofa.”

They got me there as best they could. My legs barely held me up. I left a trail of the other two men's cum across the stone floor. I knelt on the cushion, my face and hands braced against the backrest. Niko came up behind me, ran his hands along my sides and back, rubbed his cock against my crack, and whispered in my ear.

“I'm going to split you open, little slut.”

I didn't have time to answer. He lined the tip up with my asshole and drove it in with one thrust as far as my body allowed, which wasn't all the way—not even close. A shiver ran up my spine, and a groan escaped from deep inside me.

“Aaay!”

He pressed his chest against my back, reached around, and grabbed my nipples. He kissed my neck and licked my earlobe. He waited. Waited. Another thrust of his hips, and the rest of his length buried itself inside me to the balls.

“Oh, mama!”

“There, old man. It's all the way in.”

He began to move slowly. His breathing was steady and measured, like an athlete's. His thrusts were long and deep, brushing against something inside me that no one else had ever touched. I had lost the ability to speak. I could only make sounds.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

When he came, I didn't feel the contractions—I was somewhere else entirely—but I felt the heat of his load spreading inside me. Four, five bursts. He stayed inside for a few more seconds before slowly pulling out.

***

I went home by bus, my ass burning and my head empty. When I got in, Marta still hadn't returned. I showered three times. I sat on the toilet and let my body expel what it was carrying inside.

While I waited for my wife to come home, I thought about how stupid I had been to get into the car with three strangers. I could have ended up leaving there in a body bag. I thought about it seriously, for quite a while. And yet, even as I thought about it, I found it difficult to admit something else: that those hours at the estate had been the most intense thing that had happened to me in years.