Threesome at a Gay Club with Two Dominant Men

The club I went to that night wasn’t new to me, but I had never walked in with such a clear intention as I did that time. My partner was away on business, and for several days I had been getting myself worked up in private chats with a guy everyone called Mauro, though in the scene they knew him as “the guard.” After all those messages, photos, video calls, and promises, he finally told me he wanted to meet me in person.

It wasn’t the first time a man had sworn he would show up, only to disappear at the last minute. That was why, as I put on my makeup in front of the mirror, I kept thinking that maybe I was getting dressed up for nothing. Even so, the excitement outweighed my distrust.

I dressed to provoke. Black stockings, high heels, a dark lace outfit that squeezed me exactly where it was supposed to, a leather miniskirt, and a short jacket made of the same material. I wanted to look feminine, insolent, and available, and when I looked at myself full-length, I knew I’d pulled it off.

I drove to the club, parked without any trouble, and walked to the door feeling the cold air on my thighs. The security guys recognized me from previous visits. One of them smiled boldly, looked me up and down, and let me in without asking any questions.

Inside, the usual gloom reigned, with deep music, red lights, and bodies mingling everywhere. There were male couples, some women together, several curious solo men leaning against the bar, and a trans girl I already knew by sight. I ordered a drink, took a long sip, and started looking for him.

I found him at the back, near a tall table. The first thing that surprised me was his size. He looked big on camera, but in person he was even more imposing: very tall, broad-shouldered, with enormous arms, a well-groomed beard, and a slight belly that didn’t make him look any less brutish. He wore tight jeans, boots, and a leather jacket that made him look like a tough guy who had come in off a long stretch of highway.

He wasn’t alone.

With him was an older man, also burly, bald, with a thick mustache, an expensive suit, and the kind of presence that filled a room without him having to raise his voice. He didn’t look like someone from the scene who had happened to stop in for a drink. He looked like someone accustomed to giving orders.

They both came toward me. The older man greeted me first, politely, with two kisses and a firm hand on my waist that lingered a second too long. The other one, by contrast, grabbed my face and planted a kiss on my mouth as if he had already fucked me ten times. Then he gave my ass a sharp smack that made me flinch.

“I like seeing you this way,” he said in my ear. “All dressed up so people can look at you.”

The older man introduced himself as Bruno. His tone was calm, but there was something cold in his eyes, a way of looking at me that made me feel assessed. We stood around talking about whatever while the drinks kept coming, though the conversation was only an excuse. They both touched me whenever they could, and not discreetly.

Mauro rubbed my thigh beneath the table. Bruno stood behind me when ordering at the bar and let me feel his package pressing against my ass. I responded in kind, carried away by the thrill. I squeezed their flies, slid a hand along a waist, checked their hardness. The game no longer had anything innocent about it.

Bruno was the one who finally shattered the balance. He came up behind me, wrapped one hand around my waist, and grabbed me in front with the other, directly between my legs, over my skirt. He squeezed my bulge hard enough to make me moan through my teeth.

“Go to the bathroom,” he told me without taking his mouth from my ear. “Take off your panties and bring them to me. Now.”

He said it like an order, not a suggestion. And I obeyed.

I entered the bathroom with my heart racing. I pulled down my underwear, felt my hard, sensitive cock against the minimal fabric of my skirt, and for a second I felt ridiculous—too exposed, too horny to back out. I kept the panties in my hand, adjusted myself as best I could, and went back out.

A woman I knew from the scene, a trans woman older than me, looked at my crotch and burst out laughing.

“Well, baby, they’ve put you to work quickly,” she said. “If you keep this up, they’ll really open you up tonight.”

I left there flushed, embarrassed, and almost painfully aroused. When I returned to them, Bruno took the panties from my hand, brought them to his nose, and smiled. Mauro laughed when he saw me struggling to lower my skirt while the tip of my cock barely showed underneath it.

“Pay and let’s go,” Bruno ordered without even looking at me.

I didn’t argue. I paid for the drinks, we left the club, and they took me to a dark SUV parked a little farther away. Mauro opened the back door and put me inside with a hard hand on my waist. It wasn’t uncontrolled violence, but exactly enough force to make it clear who was directing the situation.

Bruno sat behind the wheel. Mauro sat beside me. The car started and went a couple of blocks before Mauro took out a black blindfold.

“Put it on,” he told me. “It’s for discretion. Don’t play around with it.”

I obeyed again. As soon as the fabric covered my eyes, the world changed all at once. I heard the engine, felt the leather seat, smelled the masculine scent of both men, and felt the tension closing around me. Then Mauro grabbed my hair and pulled my head toward his crotch.

His cock was already out. Thick, hot, hard. I brushed it with my lips before opening my mouth properly. I started by licking the tip, slowly wetting it, and he let out a low growl. Then I swallowed it whole as far as I could. It had the kind of thickness that forced me to open wider, salivate more, give in more.

“That’s it, suck it,” he murmured. “Let’s see if you were as filthy in person as you were over chat.”

I sucked him eagerly, with no attempt at delicacy. I moved my head up and down, licked his shaft, ran my tongue underneath it, took the tip down my throat, and let it brush the back. Whenever I pulled away to breathe, he pushed me back with a hand on my nape. My mouth was already full of saliva, and my cock was throbbing between my legs.

Bruno said nothing. He just drove.

Mauro didn’t last long. I could tell from the change in his breathing, the tension in his thighs, and the way he began to use my mouth in earnest, fucking it with short thrusts. When he came, he filled my tongue and throat. A thick, copious, hot load.

“Swallow it all,” he told me, almost voicelessly.

I swallowed. I didn’t leave a single drop outside.

We drove on for a while longer until the car stopped. They got me out, guided me along a short path, and when we entered a house, they removed my blindfold. We were in a large, sober, clean living room without excessive luxury. Everything was far too orderly to have been improvised.

Then something happened that threw me off. Mauro had barely finished closing the door when Bruno turned and landed a sharp blow to his stomach. It wasn’t light theater: the big man doubled over and dropped to his knees, gasping.

“I didn’t give you permission to use her in the car,” Bruno said flatly. “If you’re going to play with me, you respect the order.”

Mauro lowered his head. He didn’t protest.

I stood still, gauging the real danger of what had happened, until Bruno turned toward me with a different expression. He offered me a drink, indicated a sofa, and began speaking with an almost instructional calm. He wanted to know what I liked, what my limits were, and what word I would use if I needed to stop. We talked about pain, humiliation, control, and thrills. I told him my safe word, and he repeated it seriously, making it clear that he understood.

That reassured me more than I expected. I understood that the blow was also part of the dynamic between them. Bruno was in charge. Mauro was learning. And I was there because I wanted to be the center of that game.

Afterward, he made me go down a hallway and a staircase to a room prepared for what was coming. It was a spacious basement converted into a BDSM room, with subdued lighting, good ventilation, sturdy furniture, ropes, a bench, a spanking horse, and immaculate cleanliness. Nothing improvised. Nothing sordid. Everything ready.

Bruno left me with Mauro so he could undress me. Within minutes he had removed my jacket and skirt, leaving me wearing only my bra, stockings, heels, and a minimal garment that concealed almost nothing. His hands were enormous, and he took advantage of every second to grope me. He squeezed my buttocks, grabbed my cock through the fabric, and made it harden completely.

He had changed too. He wore latex shorts that outlined his cock obscenely. When he came close, I felt the bulge brushing my thigh.

“Today we’re going to leave you truly opened up,” he whispered.

He took me to a padded spanking horse and positioned me bent forward over it. He secured my ankles and wrists, spreading my legs wide. The position left me completely exposed: ass up, chest supported, face turned to the side, unable to hide anything.

Bruno came in then, nearly naked, wearing a minimal harness that barely supported the massive cock hanging between his legs. It was enormous even half-hard. Thick, heavy, far bigger than what I was accustomed to taking. Seeing it aroused and frightened me at the same time.

He stood in front of my face and offered it to me without ceremony. I began licking it respectfully, if such a thing was possible with a cock like that. I slowly got it hard, feeling it gain size and weight in my mouth. Bruno grabbed my hair and set the pace.

“Open wide. No teeth,” he said.

I obeyed. He worked it down my throat with cruel patience, enjoying every gag, every stifled choking sound, every involuntary tear that escaped from the effort. When he brought me to my limit, he eased off just slightly and went back in. He wasn’t in a hurry. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Meanwhile, Mauro knelt behind me and spread my buttocks with both hands. First he licked my ass from top to bottom, slowly, spreading me wider and wider, working his tongue into my anus and wetting it. Then he spat, added lubricant, and started with one finger. Then two.

I remained busy swallowing cock while feeling his fingers opening me from behind. He pushed them in and out firmly, searching inside me, while his other hand jerked my cock and squeezed my balls. The contrast drove me crazy: my mouth forced around Bruno’s cock while my ass was being worked to receive something bigger.

Bruno stopped being gentle. He began fucking my mouth in earnest, pulling my hair and thrusting harder. Once I brushed him with my teeth because of a gag, and he slapped me twice quickly and sharply, leaving my face burning.

“If you choke, you swallow. But you don’t bite me,” he said.

Far from slowing down, that made me even hotter. I was there for that: to be used, corrected, ordered around, turned into an obedient hole between two enormous men.

Mauro had opened me up quite a bit when I felt him withdraw his fingers and return with more lubricant. He poured it generously over my ass, letting it run down my perineum and thighs. Bruno pulled away from my mouth and moved behind me. I didn’t need to see him to know he was getting into position.

The tip of his cock brushed my entrance. He pushed just slightly, testing me. The head began to enter, and I had to moan, half complaining, half asking for more. He was too big. He stopped for a second, grabbed my hips with both hands, and pushed again.

I felt him forcing me open inch by inch. It burned. It pulled. My body wanted to close, and at the same time it begged him to continue. When the head finally forced its way through, Bruno gave one buttock a hard slap.

“Relax or it’ll hurt more.”

I drew a breath. I loosened. Then he drove in three more firm, sharp thrusts, until almost that entire beast was inside my ass. I screamed into the leather of the horse. I felt absurdly full, split open, on the verge of too much.

“That’s it,” I heard behind me. “I’m all the way in.”

They untied my wrists and pulled my hair to raise me slightly, leaving me still braced against the horse but more arched. Bruno began moving slowly at first, letting my anus accept his size, and then established a steady, deep, devastating rhythm. Every thrust opened me a little farther and tore a moan from me.

Mauro took the opportunity to kneel beneath me and lick my balls. He took them into his mouth, swallowed my cock for a while, ran his tongue up to my perineum, and sucked again. He did it so well that my erection returned at full strength. I was being fucked in the ass by an enormous man while another sucked me as though he wanted to pull my soul out through my cock.

Pleasure and fear blended together brutally. It hurt, yes, but it aroused me even more to know myself open, dominated, and used by those two bodies, larger and stronger than mine. Bruno gave me no respite. He maintained an exact, heavy, pounding rhythm. Every time he came out slightly and went back in to the hilt, he made me moan with my throat raw.

“Look at how you’re taking it,” Mauro said, moving away for a moment to slap my cock. “You’re made to be a slut for this.”

I couldn’t answer. I could only pant.

Bruno pulled his cock out abruptly and turned me over. He kissed me violently, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth, crushing me against his chest while grabbing my ass with both hands. Then he lifted me with insulting ease and laid me on a wide, padded bed.

They placed me on my back, with my legs spread wide and raised. Mauro held my ankles on either side of Bruno’s head while Bruno positioned himself between my legs again. He spat on my ass, added more lubricant, and entered me again, this time sliding in more easily through an anus already loosened and hot.

The new position made me feel him even deeper. He pierced me again and began fucking me at a different angle, thrusting upward and rubbing me inside in a way that made me writhe. I clutched his forearms, his shoulders, whatever I could, while Mauro stroked my face and then put his cock in my mouth.

We ended up in a forced sixty-nine. I sucked Mauro while Bruno fucked my ass without stopping. I had one cock in my mouth and another in my anus, and amid that chaos I felt pleasure rising in waves from my belly to the nape of my neck. Mauro fucked my mouth with greater confidence now, knowing how much I could swallow. Bruno kept up his pace below.

“Come in his mouth,” Bruno ordered.

Mauro obeyed. He grabbed my head, buried his cock down my throat, and came inside me, hot and pulsing. I swallowed almost as my own cock burst over my belly and chest. The orgasm shook my entire body, long and tremulous, while Bruno continued fucking me without stopping, taking advantage of every contraction of my ass.

I was left panting, still sucking the last traces of Mauro’s semen, when he pulled away. Bruno was still inside me, hard and solid, moving with almost insulting stamina for his age. He grabbed my buttocks and spread them wider, watching his cock slide in and out coated with lubricant and saliva.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he said.

And he wasn’t lying.

He made me change positions again. First onto my side, with one leg raised, taking me slowly and then speeding up. Then on all fours at the edge of the bed, leaving my hands buried in the mattress while he grabbed my waist and drove into me so hard that the sound of flesh striking flesh filled the room. Mauro, obedient and aroused, stroked my cock, twisted my nipples through my bra, and occasionally spat into my mouth so he could kiss me afterward.

I could no longer think clearly. I only felt. The burning of my opened ass. The wetness running down my thighs. The weight of that enormous cock moving in and out. The salty taste of Mauro’s load, still fresh. The soft slaps Bruno used to set the pace whenever he wanted me to raise my ass higher.

“Tell me who’s fucking you,” Bruno demanded.

“You,” I panted. “You, fuck.”

“And what are you now?”

I swallowed. I was too aroused to pretend I had any dignity left.

“Your whore.”

He rewarded me with a brutal thrust that tore a scream from me. Mauro moved in front of me and put two fingers in my mouth for me to suck while his other hand kept jerking me off. I drooled, moaned, and let myself be used, completely inside the role they had constructed for me.

When Bruno began approaching orgasm, I could tell from his held breath and the way his hips struck with less control and more hunger. He held me tightly, drove his cock to the hilt several more times, and finally pulled out abruptly. He came over my belly, chest, and face, in thick spurts that splashed my lips and one cheek.

Mauro didn’t waste a second. He bent over me and began licking it all away. My abdomen, my lace-covered breasts, my neck, my chin. Then he kissed me, putting a mixture of his saliva and Bruno’s cum into my mouth. I gave it back to him, still trembling.

We stayed like that for a while, breathing, sweaty and half-collapsed on the bed. The silence after so much intensity buzzed in my ears. My ass was tender, my mouth used, my body exhausted, and I had a very clear sense that I had crossed a boundary I had wanted to cross for a long time.

Bruno was the first to pull himself together. He sat beside me, stroked one reddened buttock, and smiled faintly.

“Now you’re exactly as you wanted to be,” he said. “Well used.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. I had no strength to deny anything.

Mauro brought me water. Bruno dropped the severe persona completely and returned to the methodical calm he’d had at the beginning. He checked that I was all right, asked me about the pain, the pleasure, and what I had felt at every moment. We talked for a few more minutes, this time without orders or blows, and that mixture of brutality and care was almost as intense as the sex.

Before I left, still weak in the legs, Mauro helped me get dressed slowly. Every brush against my ass reminded me of what I had endured. Bruno returned my panties, which he had kept in the pocket of his dinner jacket, and told me to keep them as a memento of the night when I had stopped fantasizing and begun truly obeying.

When I left that house, still in the early hours of the morning, I knew I would never forget that threesome. I had gone looking for an unfinished date and ended up as the plaything of two men who knew exactly how to break me and rebuild me in their hands. And the worst—or the best—part was that as I went home with my ass burning and my mouth still salty, I could think only about when I would do it again.