I have these two best guy friends—the three of us have been friends since
Kindergarten—and as long as I can remember they’ve been like two big competitive
bulldogs constantly trying to best the other. Grade school was all about sports and
other normal things, and then puberty hit and they went nuts. I had to be the
witness while they counted their pubic hairs, racked up dates over the summer. Who
felt how many tits? And of course, how big is my cock?
Tonight—and it only took them each like two beers to get here—we were on the subject
of whose cum tastes better.
“That would imply you’ve tasted your own cum at some point.” Marc chided Bobby. I
was sitting between them on my couch. “And that’s about the gayest thing I’ve
heard.”
“No it completely doesn’t and don’t be a homophobe,” Bobby fired back. “You’re just
being a douche to dodge the subject. I’m just saying I’m sure mine tastes better
because I eat better than you do.”
“You eat lettuce, tofu and Styrofoam. I eat ice cream and steak.”
And once all this stalling banter finally fizzled out, guess what: I got to be judge.
Oh yeah, did I mention we sometimes all fuck each other too? I think their biggest
game, in the end, is who will finally win me. But that sounds really conceited, even
though it’s been quite a ride to date. But anyway, let’s get back to the cum at
hand:
I knelt at their feet: their eyes were so wide. Who to pick? Like a cat, I chose to
crawl up Marc’s lap and start undoing his belt. By the time I had his cock out, it
was very, very hard. Gripping it firmly, I took it in my mouth and started giving
him the best, tightest blow job I could.
Meanwhile, I could see Bobby had his eyes on me. And I made sure to give a little
show: hardly utilitarian about this, I truly savored Marc’s cock, feeling my own
tits through my shirt with my free hand, giving little moans. I even deepthroated
him at one point, and I loved the gasp I got out Marc when I did.
I really was in love with them both. So it was no surprise that as I felt Marc get
ready to spurt, I upturned my face, dying to get covered in his jizz. His cock was
so slick with my spit, that I easily jacked him off the last second or two before he
suddenly squirted his load. He shot it out pretty far, and very thickly: he hit me
all over the face, and, of course, onto my waiting tongue. As I relished it in my
mouthy, he stroked my hair with his hand.
“SO, Jeannie?” Bobby asked.
“Won’t say a thing til all entries are in,” I answered. “So, are you entering me or
not?”
Bobby eagerly took out his cock and met me as I plunged it in my mouth. He really
fucked my face more than Marc did, excitedly thrusting his cock in and out of me.
His pubic hair tickled my nose and made me giggle, but he really worked his cock
otherwise as well as any porn star. But quick as he fucks, he cums just as fast.
Almost immediately he pulled out and began firing jizz all over my face. I opened my
mouth, extending my tongue to catch all of it I could, like snowflakes. I swished it
around in my mouth, thinking.
I looked at each of them. They were totally dying.
“I would have to say…” Honestly, Marc’s ice cream and steak theory was right. But
I’m not an idiot. “I need more evidence.”
“Oh really,” Bobby said, standing, scooping me up. Marc followed, and started to
mess with my fly and pull my jeans down. “We’ll have to see what we can do about
that.”
Oh yeah, there was a lot of fucking. I could’ve had twenty women do taste tests in
the end I was so covered. My girlfriends say I should pick between them and be done.
I say, with that much cock in my back pocket: why should I ever?
Pics of Cum for Cover
