It was such a hot fantasy fulfilled, that we fucked each others brains out dozens of times in the weeks following, with the catalyst each time, being ...he memory of that incredibly hot night! We knew we could do it better the second time around, but in order to even give it a try, we had to be staying in a nice hotel. Let me explain what I'm talking about.The next few paragraphs are taken from my first story, “My Wife Picked Up In A Hotel Bar”. I'm using this to explain how the whole idea got. “I can’t believe you chose them over us, Kevin. You fucking faggot.” What did he just say?Did he just call her, Kevin? “What did you just say?” I shout at him. He looks at me wearing the same face I see in the mirror, but with a twisted grin. “Faggot?” “Why did you call her Kevin?”“Oh shit, you don’t know! How could you not know the queer on your team was once our best friend, Kevin fucking Williams?” That’s not possible… No! It can’t be. I’d know if the girl I’ve been intimate with was really. More

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