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How I Became a Kept Male Slut

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None of this would have happened if I hadn’t lost my job. Of course, I didn’t think getting canned was such good luck at the time. I lost my job, lost my apartment, and had my car repo-ed all in one week.

My upstairs neighbor, a cute redhead named Sarah, took pity on me and offered to lend me her couch “just for one night” while I waited for my last paycheck. I needed it for busfare back to Chicago and my mom’s basement. I felt pitiful.

She was “totally sure” her roommates—Jennifer and Patty—wouldn’t mind. I was pretty sure that they would; I was depressed, and certainly I’ve been better company than I was at that point. I had no choice, though, and I surrendered to having a long, awkward night of being a politely unwelcome lump on the couch.

I couldn’t have been more wrong—Jennifer and Patty were totally sweet to me, and the three of them went out of their way to cheer me up. Believe me, it took a lot of doing. I was so feeling sorry for myself.

I was sitting in Sarah’s living room, my apartment boxed up and crammed into a corner, nursing the beer she had offered me, trying to make myself look small in the warmly inviting room. Sarah was wearing a casually-torn belly-button tee shirt and neat grey shorts with pretty white girly-stuff lacing around the legs.

The way she sat with the souls of her feet pressed together convinced me that she was wearing panties under the shorts, but I couldn’t tell if she was accenting her breasts with a bra she didn’t need, or if she was naturally gravity-averse.

I was trying not to stare. It was hard, though, since she kept crossing and uncrossing her smooth barefooted legs, and shifting around in her chair; she was just relaxing, being herself. She wasn’t fidgety.

We sat and chatted about stupid stuff—the weather (which was awesome), the circus (who knows how that came up), even last night’s game (our team lost)—but despite the distraction of her pleasant company and the fortuitous view of her beautiful body, I struggled not to sigh too noticeably. Being unemployed and homeless sucks!

After a while, Jennifer got back from work. She was wearing a taut, professional suit/skirt combo thing. Oh, hell: I’m a guy—what do I know about fashion? I know she looked hot though; legs as long or longer than Sarah’s, tight tangerine breasts, longish brown hair jaunting on her shoulders.

Her assertive blue eyes took in the boxes, and Sarah’s attentiveness to her reaction. “Who’s your cute friend?” she asked Sarah, and something inside of me—something which had been flirting with both despair at my homelessness and desire from Sarah’s comeliness—well, something started to glow.

Sarah introduced me, and explained my unfortunate situation. Jennifer, without batting an eye, took in the fact that my beer no longer had condensation on the outside and brought me another one. “Drink up, Jason.” She said. “How else are we going to get you drunk and make you forget your troubles?”

Without waiting for a reply, she slid through the living room and into what I assumed was her bedroom. While she was changing, Patty got home.

Patty was a short 5′ 5″ in her heels, which were considerable, and which made her slender legs reach delicately up her skirt; her butch-cut hair made the butterflies in my stomach gasp.

She thrust out her hand and asked me, “Are you Sarah’s or Jennifer’s?”

“He’s not Jennifer’s,” she teased, and winked at me. “He’s a free agent. Lost his apartment. Staying on our couch tonight, OK?”

“Oh, ankara escort hell yeah!” Patty quipped, playfully rubbing her hands together like a dirty old man. We all laughed, and the last of my self-consciousness disappeared. I guess I should say that despite the faux-leering and innuendoes, there wasn’t any real sexual tension. I knew I was surrounded by lookers, but it wasn’t like that. I figured it was just banter.

After a while, Jennifer came back out—yellow shorts and a bikini top—and started making dinner: stir fried shrimp atop buttery pasta, guacamole dip, and a generous sweet-greens salad. Patty came out, too, dressed in a summery white swooshy, flippy sort of tennis dress thing, and the four of us sat there for a moment, just chilling.

Sarah looked at me—my same blue jeans and button down pocket shirt on from that morning. “We have you at a disadvantage, Jason. We’re hanging out in your bedroom. Ladies?” She and Patty rose, and joined Jennifer in the kitchen, all of them politely facing away from my space.

Quietly, I gathered fresh clothes from one of my boxes, and—feeling a bit sheepish—I stepped into the bathroom for a shower. The room was still pleasantly steamy from whatever Patty had done in there; I felt especially naked somehow. Not only had I stepped into Patty’s bathing arena (and Jennifer’s, and Sarah’s before her) but they all knew I was in there, to get naked where they had just been.

I felt like I was getting naked in the women’s changing room by invitation. It was intoxicating. I dropped my clothing to the floor and stood nude in front of the same full length mirror they had reflected themselves in moments ago.

Every vein on my cock was pulsing, and my balls tightened with desire. I felt as though the three of them were standing behind me, watching.

I ran one hand across my chest, teasing myself, and then cupped my balls in the other hand and started stroking lightly.

I turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot stream imagining that first one, and then another of them was in there with me. I almost came, but didn’t let myself; I was sure that somehow they would know and I’d be caught, admiring what I shouldn’t.

I quickly cleaned myself, dried off, and dressed. I was still full, though not quite hard, when I strolled back into their presence. It felt good being clean, and the crisp tee-shirt and shorts I was wearing were cool against my skin.

We ate dinner, and spoke casually and with humor together. I felt like a sex god welcomed into the privacy of these strikingly handsome women.

Sarah asked me if I liked their new shower head and I blushed.

Jennifer added that it was one of those water conserving ones and I said it was nice. “It has a nice flow,” I said.

We started talking about conservation, and how we need to take care of the planet while we still can. Someone said something about our society’s addiction to oil, and I agreed, pointing out that it could more accurately be explained as an addiction to unencumbered travel.

“Not that all of our oil goes to cars,” said Patty. “But a huge proportion of it does.”

“We need to start making bikes more feasible by building infrastructure designed for them. And for walking, of course.”

“That’s really true, Jennifer. And using solar more. And wind.” I agreed with Sarah, and told her so, adding that they call them ‘fossil fuels’ for a reason and that no good can come from grave robbing.

“I could lay out in the sun all day!” escort ankara quipped Patty. “A cool breeze, a cold drink; I’d be all set.” They started talking about bodies then—whose butt was lumpier than whose, whose tits are too small—each of them arguing that the other two are way prettier than the third.

“You girls are nuts,” I told them. “You know you’re all awesome.”

“That’s just the testosterone talking,” laughed Patty. “You know this whole situation is straight out of some total Man-Fantasy.” She swooped her hand around, indicating three pretty young things and their wayward man-friend who’s ‘just gonna stay the night.’

“Well, far be it from me to disavow my testosterone.”

“See?”

“Yeah, of course. But…”

“But you want to fuck us, don’t you?” She was kidding, but—I realized with a blush—she also wasn’t.

I didn’t want to admit it. She was right, but I didn’t want to blurt it out—how rude! Yet, they wouldn’t have believed me if I denied it anyway, so I copped to it.

“I’d be lucky to be with any one of you.” I stated. “And we’ve all seen enough Porky’s reruns to know you’re right about the wet-dream factor.” They nodded.

“Society trains you guys to chase anything with legs,” said Sarah, nicely letting me off the hook for my confession.

“Just like it hassles you guys into thinking your bodies are all fat, flawed, and wrong. It’s so fucked up.”

“It really is. Society needs to change big time!”

I agreed, adding that all it takes is political will, and the desire to start somewhere.”

“It’s like Earth Day. I mean, you’ve got to start somewhere, but to have only one day out of the whole year when we think about the planet? It’s not enough.” Sarah nodded.

“The whole thing with gender roles is just like that; we’d be so much better off as a society if we humans could just get over ourselves,” said Jennifer.

“It’s like we all pretend that we don’t have bodies, like our sexuality is such a big secret. I think we’d all be better off if we could just fess up.”

“Damn right, Patty! I think it was brave of Jason to admit that he, that he would…, like to have us in bed.” I looked at Sarah when she said that, I guess to see if she was messing with me, even though I could tell she meant every word. Patty and Jennifer looked at her, too, but not for the same reason.

Patty swallowed. “She’s right, Jason. I didn’t mean to, um, set you up or whatever. That was brave.”

“Hey, we all have fantasies,” I said. “Or at least ideas. Thoughts, you know? It’s totally natural.” Every one of them nodded; fantasizing is completely normal. Everybody does it.

No one said it, but we all knew that they had all just admitted that they have sex fantasies, too. Not about me, necessarily, but not not about me, either. So much for no sexual tension.

If I hadn’t been holding my breath from not wanting to say anything wrong, my boner would’ve been back for sure. Maybe that’s wrong of me, but it’s true.

“It’s kind of tricky,” said Jennifer. “Knowing what’s really real, and what desires are learned. Or taught, or whatever.”

“I think that’s especially true about guys,” I said. “I mean, no one gives a shit what guys look like, but with girls’ looks it’s so spelled out.”

“I care what guys look like,” whispered Patty, and I felt a rush below my belly.

“Everybody knows you love to check the guys,” snorted Jennifer.

“Hey,” I said in her defense. “Enough with the slut-shaming.” Oh crap. ankara escort bayan That didn’t come out right. “Not that you’re a slut or anything,” I added.

“Thanks.” said Patty, though I wasn’t entirely sure what she was thanking me for. “She’s right, though.” She took a breath. “I am a slut.” She smiled, and made a sort of Groucho with his cigar motion. “And I mean that in a good way!”

I laughed. ‘I really like this girl!’ I liked them all. My admiration for all three of them was through the roof. It takes some serious stones for a girl to come out and say she likes the idea of getting fucked. It takes even more for her to come right out and mean it without saying a thing.

And all three of them meant it—they liked the idea of having me.

And they knew I loved it right back. It was quiet for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Jennifer spoke. ” I’m a slut, too,” she whispered. I laughed nervously, not sure what to say.

“I guess it’s unanimous,” Sarah admitted. “All four of us are total sluts.” She paused. “Not that you’re a slut or anything.” She winked at me.

“Oh, I’m a slut alright!” We all laughed at that, the tension both broken and magnified somehow. It could have stopped there, or gotten turned down a notch. Except Sarah likes to help people push themselves past their typical boundaries.

“OK, then,” said Sarah. “If you’re game–” She looked at me, then at Jennifer and Patty. Her eyes flashed joyeously because both Jennifer and Patty had all but said they want to bed me. If she went for it, they’d have to admit it or lie through their teeth knowing that I wouldn’t believe them for a minute.

“We’ll have to rearrange the rooms a little,” Sarah told them. “You know, so we’ll still have a livingroom.”

“Oh, my God!” said Patty, but she wasn’t shocked. Her smile was electric.

“Um,” inquired Jennifer. “Are the three of us kept women, or are we sharing Jason?”

“Oh, hell yes!” I exclaimed, both teasing and meaning it.

Sarah stood up and began gathering the dishes. “It’s a three bedroom,” she told me. “So we’ll have to make a schedule.”

“Or else Jason gets a room and two of us share. You know, or both.”

They looked at me. “If this is going to work,” I said, “it’s got to be you all in charge. Sharing me, I mean. I’m not the Big Boss sort.”

“But we’re going to need someone who has the final say so in disputes, too.”

“OK,” I said. “I can do that. If it’s OK with you three.” One after the other, they agreed to let me arbitrate the sexual conflicts. “I guess that makes me the sex toy who decides.”

“So how is this going to work, then? I mean, who sets the schedule?” We all looked at around; eventually all eyes were on me.

“This is your guys’ apartment, so you all need to plan out the rooms. Whatever you think is cool by me.”

“Sarah was here first; we moved in later.” Patty nodded her agreement.

“Good, so Sarah picks who sleeps in which rooms.” I looked around; they were all waiting for me to go on. “Why doesn’t Jennifer make up the rotation schedule. And Patty, let’s see…”

“Jennifer should pick out three nights where you’re one-on-one with whoever,” Patty suggested. “I’ll be in charge of ‘Special Programs’ and group activities.”

Sarah laughed. “Jesus, Jason. We’re gonna fuck you twelve ways from Sunday.”

“Damn straight,” drooled Jennifer.

“Tonight is ‘Toy’s Choice Night’,” announced Patty. “Jason’s pick—as long as he picks us all.”

“That works for me,” I admitted.

“Good thing, too, Jason.” Sarah grinned. “Time for you to strip.”

It may seem like whatever is fucking up in your life is the end of the world, but believe me: the chances are it’s just starting to get good!

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