So there I was, in the subfloor of the homeowner, looking for termites. I had already done everywhere else, including the 50°+ degrees centigrade roof void which had left me hot and sweaty. The subfloor was much cooler, but more humid, so the sweat in my crack was really making things slippery...and fuelling wild fantasies of being humped. I was well under the floor, the perfect place for a wank. I pulled my cock out, still bent on all fours and, imagined a big juicy cock at my hole.

"Sam!" It was Malcolm. We hadn't done a thing since that night, though the wife had had a few kinky meets. I wasn't even sure he wanted me, but that was driven out of my mind. " Sam, you down there!" 

"Yeah, what do you want?" 

"I finished up early and Richard said you might need a hand..." which was true when I started, but not so much now. I had sucked up the job and just gotten on with it, even though sub floors and extensions hadn't been in the original quote. 

I was crawling out, going to meet my helper, but my head was down  to avoid a knock on the head. I was talking, saying the help was accepted but not necessary when I saw he had come into the subfloor and was standing at the deepest, and creepiest, point. I had totally misjudged my position and was now kneeling before him. Quick as a flash, our collective minds went back to that night. As I reached for his fly, he began to tousle my hair. As l pulled his cock out, he began to grip my hair. As I stuffed a hardening five inches into my mouth, he began to ram his cock home. As it stiffened, I  gagged hard on it and fought to breath both his penis, and enough air. 

"Merry Christmas, cunt! " he said as I struggled. He pulled back his cock, my rasping breath loud in the silence, and said "Ho!" Before plunging his cock into my mouth balls deep, and then pulling out again. "-Ho!" And plunging back again, grinding his pubis onto my nose, and then pulling out again, "Ho!" The third time he arched back to drive it a little deeper, making me vomit bile onto his cock.  "fuck, yeah, that's it santa slut."

 "What's going on down there?" It was the owner of the house. I  thought we were fucked, the beady little eyes of some guy peering down between the floorboards, seeing a couple of poofs having sex under his house. But there was something else according to Malcolm. A hand wrapped around six inches, unable to resist his needs. 

"Why don't you come down and find out!" Malcolm said, his dick getting harder at the thought of an impromptu threesome. I  was also looking forward to it: a good arse fucking to go with my sore jaw.

"Oh my!" Was the announcement that he had arrived. I couldn't see a thing, buried in Malcolm's work pants. Impatient hands were undoing my pants, pulling my underwear over my arse, spreading my arse cheeks. 

My arse was slippery from the sweat, but the guy wasn't sure his cock would go in and spit on my arse, his fingers working it in and spreading my boicunt. It was unnecessarily rough, and I might have whimpered if it weren't for Malcolm's cock working over my mouth. The guy must have not had boicunt for a while, for I was barely opened for him when he pulled out and replaced it with the head of his cock. He pushed and pushed on his cock, forcing the larger than usual head past my ring. As it burst into my bowels, my head was fulll of imagining about how things would go, my own cock leaking pre-cum like a river. He buried himself deep, gripped my hips, and started fucking.

The flared head of his cock would not let it out of my arse without effort, so he could go full out in fucking me. And boy, did he go fullout. Malcolm let go of my head and stood back as the bloke clapped my arse with his cock. Fuck it was loud. It had been some time since six inches had hurt, but this prick was ripping my guts open with the fleshy head working against my tunnel. And he loved it. He slapped my arse, hard, as he fucked. He reached under my shirt and gripped my nipple. He reached around and twisted my cock. And he kept stopping everytime he was close. I wanted it to stop while he was fucking, only to turn into a frustrated, whiny bitch every time he stopped. 

Malcolm gripped his dick and shoved it in my face, having me lock his cock and fingers and balls while the guy was fucking. "Fuck this is hot!" He kept saying, in between encouragement for the  guy to keep clapping my arse. Malcolm came in buckets, covering my face and mouth as I licked up his seed. It couldn't be long now, I thought. But then Malcolm was back  in the game, telling the guy to make me cry, holding his deflating dick. It stirred, and slowly got hard over the next half hour until it was impressive as ever as it contemplated fucking my arse after the guy had tormented it.

Over an hour into it, I finally gave in.  I had wanted to cry for a while but pride had stemmed the flow of tears. Now I was crying and bawling how much it hurt. My arse was red from the slapping, my ring I was sure must be bleeding. And his cum was as hot as I had imagined. His hand snaked around and began twisting my cock as he filled my bowels with semen, coaxing out a response from my dick. Finally he had finished, dismountung from my arsehole so  that Malcolm could have a turn. Bracing against my hips and sliding into my well fucked hole. Our host began to feed me my own cum, at first from his fingers and the scooping from wherever. This really turned Malcolm on, and he came hard in my arse. 

 I collapsed on the floor, my nakedness becoming dirty with the soil from the exposed sub floor. 

"Fucken queer prick," Malcolm said. "I love fucking you. Nothing is off limits!"

 It made my day!