The next few days passed in a blur, the echoes of their passionate cries and the taste of their love-making haunting my every waking moment. I went about my routine, trying to ignore the way my thoughts kept drifting back to that night, but the memory was like a siren's call, irresistible and all-consuming. I found myself listening for any sign of life from their apartment, my ears pricking at the sound of their laughter or the thump of their music, hoping for another taste of the forbidden fruit they had offered me.

One evening, the sound of a knock at my door brought me back to reality. It was Benjamin, his face a picture of casual ease as he held out two cold bottles of beer. "Hey, George," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "Jenny's out with friends tonight. Thought I'd swing by, see if you wanted to hang out?"

My heart raced at the prospect of being alone with him, knowing the secrets we now shared. I nodded, swiping my hand through my hair nervously as I stepped aside to let him in. The apartment was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos of my own. The walls were adorned with art that spoke of their shared tastes, and the faint scent of Jenny's perfume lingered in the air, a sweet reminder of her presence.

We settled into the living room, the leather couch cool against the back of my legs as I took one of the bottles from him. The cap popped with a satisfying sound, and I took a sip, the cold liquid soothing my parched throat. We spoke of casual things—the weather, work, the neighborhood—but the tension between us was palpable, a thrumming undercurrent that seemed to pulse with every beat of my heart.

As the conversation flowed, we found ourselves discussing our mutual love for jazz music, a shared interest that had me nodding along eagerly. Benjamin spoke with a passion that was both surprising and endearing, his eyes lighting up as he discussed the complex rhythms and soulful melodies of his favorite artists. I found myself drawn to him in a way that went beyond the obvious physical attraction, his intelligence and depth making him even more appealing.

The need to use the restroom grew, and as I made my way down the hall, I couldn't help but glance into their open bedroom door. The room was a study in soft lighting and dark colors, the bed in the center a sprawling invitation to indulgence. My eyes were drawn to the rumpled sheets, and the sudden memory of Jenny's sweet cries filled my mind. I took a step closer, my curiosity piqued by the faint scent of sex that lingered in the air.

"Checking out the battlefield, are you?" Benjamin's voice came from behind me, his grin unmistakable even without looking. I flushed, feeling both embarrassed and intrigued. He sauntered over, handing me a fresh towel. "Jenny likes to keep it clean," he said with a wink, "but I'm sure you could still find some... traces of her."

We sat back on the couch, the leather sighing under our weight as we leaned back, our bottles of beer clinking together in a toast that felt both celebratory and ominous. He took a swig, his eyes never leaving mine as he spoke. "Jenny was quite impressed with your... enthusiasm the other night," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's not every day she finds someone who really enjoys going down on her in the way you do."

I felt a blush creeping up my neck, the memory of her taste still fresh on my tongue. "I didn't know," I murmured, unsure of how to respond to such a blatant admission.

Benjamin shrugged, his grin turning into a knowing smile. "It's not my thing," he said, taking another swig of his beer. "But it turns her on like nothing else. And when she's turned on, we both win." He leaned back into the couch, his eyes lingering on my face. "You know, George, she talks about you a lot."

The confession took me by surprise, and I couldn't help but feel a swell of excitement. "What does she say?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Oh, you know," Benjamin said with a chuckle, "how much she enjoys teasing you, watching you squirm. How much she loves the way you react when she flirts with you." His eyes held a glint of amusement as he studied my reaction. "But she also mentioned something else."

My heart was racing now, eager to know more. "What did she say?"

Benjamin's smile grew wider, a knowing glint in his eye. "Well," he began, his voice a deep drawl, "she said that you might be ready for the next step." He took a long pull from his beer, watching me intently as I fidgeted under his gaze. "You see, George, Jenny has this... project, and it involves pushing boundaries."

His eyes grew dreamy as he spoke, and he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the armrest. "Margaret was like that," he murmured, "so eager to please, so hungry to be part of something... taboo." His eyes grew distant, and he took another sip of his beer before continuing. "Jenny loves that—finding someone who can give her what she craves, who'll do things for her that I just can't."

The mention of Margaret was like a key unlocking a door to a room I hadn't even known existed in their lives. "What was she like?" I asked, the name a curiosity that had been piqued.

"Ah, Margaret," Benjamin said, his eyes glazing over with a look of fond nostalgia. "She was a bit like you, George, eager to please, willing to try anything." He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to a spot on the wall behind me, lost in thought. "But she had this... this insatiable hunger for the taboo. She didn't just like watching us, she liked being part of it, you know?"

I nodded, my throat tightening as the implications of his words sank in. "You mean..."

"Yeah," Benjamin said with a knowing smile, his hand reaching for my shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. "Margaret was something else, man. She didn't just sit back and watch. She got right in the middle of it. Jenny's not much of an oral person herself, but she loves watching me get sucked off. And Margaret, she didn't just watch—she joined in. She had this... talent for making both of us feel like kings."

His words painted a picture in my mind so vivid it was almost as if I was there with them. The three of them tangled in a mess of limbs and desire, each of them lost in a haze of pleasure. It was a heady thought, one that made my cock throb with need. "What was it like?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

"It was... intense," Benjamin said, his eyes sparkling with the memory. "Fucking her while she had her mouth on Jenny was like nothing I've ever experienced. That pussy was so tight, so wet, and those moans, man, they just drove me wild." He took a swig of his beer, his gaze never leaving mine. "And the sounds they made together, the way they'd look at each other while I was fucking her, it was like watching two lovers reunite after a lifetime apart."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my own desires in check as the image he painted grew more vivid in my mind. The idea of Jenny with another woman, the sounds of their love making, filled me with a mix of arousal and jealousy.

Benjamin set down his beer, his eyes never leaving mine as he spoke, "It makes me horny just thinking about it." His hand casually brushed against his crotch, and I couldn't help but follow the movement. The bulge in his pants was unmistakable.

"Ever masturbated with a friend, George?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. The question caught me off guard, my mind racing with the sudden intimacy of the conversation. I felt a blush creep up my neck, my heart thudding in my chest like a drum.

I hesitated for a moment before admitting, "No, I haven't." My voice was a hoarse whisper, the confession feeling both liberating and embarrassing.

Benjamin leaned in closer, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You've never jerked off with a friend?" He sounded surprised, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Well, I've got a whole stash of porn that'll blow your mind," he said, his hand already reaching for the remote. "And I've got just the right kind to get you in the mood."

The screen lit up, and he navigated to a folder named "xxx" with a mischievous glint in his eye. He hit play, and there it was—Jenny's bare pussy, spread open in a close-up that was so intimate it stole the breath from my lungs. She was masturbating, her fingers working in a blur as she moaned and arched her back. It was clear she was putting on a show, her eyes locked on the camera with an intensity that suggested she knew someone was watching.

Benjamin nudged me with his elbow, his voice a low murmur in the quiet of the room. "Go on," he urged, already busy with his own pants, his hand disappearing into his boxers. "Don't tell me you don't want to."

I couldn't deny it; the sight of Jenny on the screen was like a punch to the gut. My hand trembled as I reached for my own cock, my eyes never leaving the screen. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room, a symphony of moans that grew louder as her fingers worked faster. I felt a strange kinship with her in that moment, as if we were both being played by the same invisible hand.

Benjamin's hand found mine, guiding it to the rhythm of his own strokes. His touch was firm, reassuring, as he matched the pace of my movements with his own. It was an intimate moment, one that should have been filled with the awkwardness of two men sharing such a personal act, but instead, it was charged with a kind of electricity that seemed to pulse through the air.

I stole a glance at his cock, finally seeing it in the flesh rather than just imagining it. It was long, hard, and utterly beautiful, a work of nature that I couldn't help but feel a mix of lust and envy towards. The veins stood out against the smooth skin, a testament to his youth and vitality. My own hand felt clumsy by comparison, but he didn't seem to notice—or care.

His eyes never left the screen, his gaze transfixed by the woman on the display, her cries of pleasure urging him onward. The room was thick with the scent of male arousal and the heady anticipation of the climax that was quickly approaching. Each stroke of our hands grew faster, more urgent, as if we were in a silent race to reach the peak together.

My own orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, the suddenness of it catching me off guard. A strangled gasp escaped my throat as I felt my balls tighten and my cock pulse, releasing a warm spurt of cum that I managed to catch in my trembling hand. It was a modest amount, a mere trickle compared to what I knew Benjamin was capable of.

But Benjamin—his climax was something to behold. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, he erupted with a force that sent his cum flying all over the place. He threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode the waves of pleasure, his body jerking and convulsing with the sheer intensity of his release.

Out of habit, I started to lick up the cum from my hand, savoring the salty taste that was a stark contrast to the sweetness of my own. On the other hand was a big blob of cum from Benjamin, and I quickly licked that up too, hoping he didn’t notice. But as I did, our eyes met, and his expression was one of pure amusement. He knew what I had done, and instead of being repulsed, he seemed to find it incredibly hot.

"You know, George," he began, his voice still thick with post-climax bliss, "you really do have a taste for cum, don't you?"

I couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment, but the way he said it was almost... admiring. "It's just... something about the taboo of it, I guess," I stumbled out, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "But it's not just that. It's... the taste. And the texture."

Benjamin chuckled, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I understand," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It's the thrill of the forbidden, isn't it?" He leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "And the taste... of someone you desire."

My cheeks burned as I nodded, unable to deny the truth in his words. "It's... it's all of it," I murmured, my voice hoarse with desire. "The taste, the texture, the... the person it's coming from."

Benjamin's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "Well, George," he said, his voice a gentle caress, "we'll have to see about getting you more of that, won't we?" He stood up, stretching his muscular body like a cat that had just enjoyed a particularly satisfying meal. "But for now," he continued, "I think it's time for us to call it a night."

He took my hand, pulling me to my feet with surprising ease. "Good night, George," he said, his grip firm and reassuring. "We'll have to do this again when Jenny isn't around."

The door closed behind him, leaving me standing in the hallway, my heart racing and my cock still semi-erect. I couldn't believe what had just happened—not just the act of tasting another man's cum, but the ease with which it had occurred. It was as if a dam had been breached, and now there was no going back.