Every few months I will get a text from “Armin,” a tall, handsome, married man of American Indian, Black and Latino descent.
“What are you and ‘Van’ doing,” he will ask. ” I can get away and I need to relieve some stress. We can all meet at the Crew Club.”
When Armin comes out to play it’s no holds barred. He is pent up.
And from what I can gather he does have a lot on his plate. Three kids. Wifey. An aging mother who is ill. And a pressure cooker job in law enforcement.
I guess being on the down-low gives him a chance to escape.
I met Armin when I was still married myself. He is an inch taller than I at six feet three and has a dick close to 10 inches.
We would tag team bottoms together, pounding them till they said uncle. And then lay around awhile and kiss each other and just talk.
The thing I like about him is despite his tough man job he always has a smile on his face and a chuckle that is infectious.
Last week he was free again and hooked up with us at Van’s place. I invited an African friend to add some spice to the stew.
I have always seen Armin top but he surprised me, saying he wanted some dick. He lay back and let Van fuck him while I and my African buddy watched.
His face showed pain when Van slid his long dick in. But by the moans I could tell there was pleasure too.
Then I fucked him, his hole opening slowly as I pushed in deeper. It was tight but he gave way.
I have to admit it was hot to explore this new side of Armin.
Then while Armin fucked Van I crept up behind him and fucked him while he did Van.
“Wow, that’s some hot shit,” said my African friend.
And then we all busted a nutt, and Armin dressed and returned to his pressure cooker life in the burbs.
“Had a great time last night, thanks,” he texted the next morning.
But then a few days later I got this text.
“Might be free at the end of next week. I will text you.”
So the pressure must be building back up.