By the time I was forty, I had made enough money to retire. My decision to do so got accelerated by the housebreaking I endured one frightening evening. I will not bore you with those details, suffice to say, it was a harrowing experience and I was fortunate not to endure physical harm. The ordeal, however, made me take stock of my life, and I decided to spend the rest of my days in a safer environment.

On one of my holidays a few years before, I had visited a remote village that looked like a place that time had forgotten. I had always been a rather solitary creature, and the isolation of this area had left a lasting impression on me.

Summarily, I began to put my plans into action for my exit strategy.

I had to sell my company shares, my house, and find a home in my new environment. Fortunately, my business partners understood my situation and were comfortable with my decision. The sale of my home where I had lived for ten years also proved to be no problem at all. My last hurdle was somewhat more taxing. The beautiful home I found needed a lot of fixing, but I was up for the challenge.

Being a systematic person, I set about refurbishment in a logical fashion. Again, I won’t go into specifics, suffice to say that once the roofing, paving, and fencing issues had been taken care of, I needed to address the plumbing, electrical, and building matters.

This all fell into place when I began frequenting a pub on the outskirts of the town. The pub and grill in town mainly catered for the tourist trade and generally closed by six o’clock in the afternoons. The local pub I frequented remained open until late in the evenings. Their food was basic but tasty. Best of all, however, was that the rough men of the area favoured this bar. Because of its rough nature, very few females accompanied their husbands and boyfriends.

The owner, Bruce, was a coarse man and took no shit from the patrons. The occasional fights instantly got dealt with, and the men were always fearful of a ban that might accompany unruly behaviour.

For me, the pub was like butch heaven, with the smell of testosterone permeating the place. Being hardworking farmer types, the occasional overtly masculine odours, were like an aphrodisiac to my gay heart. Their soiled clothing and calloused hands made me wet with lust. I naturally understood that the men were all straight, or so I thought, and so I was extremely careful. The old-fashioned steel urinal in the men’s toilet supplied me with a great deal of visual pleasure, and it always amazed me how cavalier the guys pissing were as they casually flopped their dicks about after a piss.           

Although this was mainly a man hangout, occasionally free-range pussy also frequented the joint. At these junctures, it did not take long before an outdoor excursion followed after male generosity fuelled the women. This practice always alerted me to a voyeuristic wonderland, as I scouted the outdoor area for men fucking women hanging off the back of their trucks. Even the lack of illumination could not dim my enjoyment of panting females and grunting males. Often, these spectacles included groups of men, who did not mind batting on a sticky wicket. It was like watching a bitch in heat in a dog pound as I merged into the darkness.  

It was at this venue that I finally encountered a trio of oddball brothers, who occasionally frequented the place. They were a sorrowful sight for compassionate minds, to borrow from Dickens.

As I learned about their earlier lives, I got filled with compassion and intrigued. Their father who had died a year before had been a real bastard. When they were kids, he had beaten the hell out of them. The eldest, Harley, had endured most of his sadistic machinations along with his long-suffering, wife. She had finally made her escape when she when she got institutionalized several years before. In cohorts with her abusive husband, the boys had also mistreated her abdominally in unison with their father’s collusions. He was a paternalistic arsehole who had no respect for women.

To the trio, women were there for male pleasure, and respect was non-existent. It was therefore unsurprising that the three brothers never married. Hank was the middle brother, and Cole was the youngest. They were all good-looking and sexy, albeit extremely coarse. I am not a student of behaviour but what always intrigued me was their body language. Whenever I saw them, their legs always twitched incessantly. From my rudimentary knowledge of mannerisms, this alluded to sexual frustration.

Although the locals always greeted the brothers, they were not overfriendly and mostly avoided them, except for Cole. The brothers also were not invited to partake in the outdoor free-range pussy escapades, again except for Cole.

A further bit of confidential gossip suggested that they were sexually brutal. They loved domination and had a reputation for manhandling females when they infrequently got lucky. Unlike the women of the region, this excited me enormously. The idea of these animals roughing me up gave me nights of masturbation fantasies as I dreamed of getting abused by these brothers.

Harley was the skankiest of the three and always looked like he was several baths behind. Hank was less skanky, and Cole always looked like the ‘cleanest’ of the three. Cole was also the largest and friendliest of the brothers. He was at least six-foot-three-inches tall, unopposed to the two H’s who were six-foot-tall.

Harley was the twitchiest and least attractive of the three. He was also the most regular visitor to the pub. Harley would often over imbibed and slur country and western tunes as he sat sipping beer. His visits never lasted too long.

One evening as he moved closer to me at the bar, I could not resist inviting him back to my place for a drink.

“We all know you are the village queer,” he garbled as he looked at me suspiciously.

“Well, I can drop you off at your home,” I succinctly replied.

“Thanks… Cole and I live in my dad’s home. Hank has his own place,” he informed me.

“No problem,” I assured him as we headed for my vehicle.

Once on our way, he said, “Fuck it, I could do with another drink, let’s go to your place.”

“No problem,” I excitedly answered.

I had no idea why I was elated because I had zero anticipation but a maximum expectation. ‘Could this be my lucky night,’ I naïvely imagined.

Once we got seated in my lounge, I boldly took things to a higher level.

“Harley, you are a real stud,” I proffered.

“Do you think so?” he replied with a churlish grin.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Yeah, you are fuckin’ hot,” I gushed.

“I am not queer, buddy,” he countered.

“I know… However, you are fuckin’ hot… I’m sorry, but I have to tell you,” I sheepishly enthused.

“The fuckin’ women in this place are too stupid to realize that,” he mournfully replied.

“Cock-suckers like me understand that,” I prattled, in a hopeful gesture.

The look in his eyes illuminated with a lustful countenance as his hand rubbed his crotch.

“Would you like to suck my dick?” he babbled in a bewildered rumble.

“If you want me to,” I replied in a subdued whimper.    

There was a confused dilemma on his face as he sluggishly pushed his trousers down.

Harley did not have the largest dick I had ever seen, but it was a comfortable fit in my mouth. His uncut cock slid in seamlessly as he commenced grunting in an animalistic manner. His coarse hands battered the back of my head as his rigid dick tickled the back of my throat. The skull-fucking was heavenly as he screeched ecstatically. The smell of his heady crotch made up for the lack of size. His rough hands further added to my oral pleasure as they banged the back of my head and restrained the back of my neck.

Unbeknownst to us, Cole was watching our action through my lounge window. Cole was protective of Harley who was on some or other medication, which I surmised had something to do with a bipolar condition. He had, obviously gone to the pub and learned that Harley had departed with me. Listening to the noise from the lounge window that was next to my front door, he peeped in to see Harley and me in full cry. I had no idea how much he saw, but he decided not to disturb us.

Inside, things soon escalated to a higher level when I arose and offered my arse to Harley. Without pause, he summarily slammed his cock into my arse and commenced fucking me. An intense display of Harley’s rough predilection now got underway as he pulled my hair and slapped my backside hectically. This got accompanied by a tirade of verbal abuse as every homosexual slur he could muster rained down on me. I was in heaven as all my masturbation fantasies got fulfilled. To add to the drama, I played along pleading for my life, which excited him even more.

When Harley finally unloaded, he did so all over my face as he smeared my head in his abundant jizz.

As I looked up at his cruel sneering face, he commanded me to fetch him another drink.

Afterwards, presuming that he was done, I offered to drop him off at home. My suggestion got met with a solid slap to my face before I was once more on my knees getting skull-fucked again. Both the head-bashing and later, anal assault, lasted far longer as I happily gave in to his primal machinations.

What I did not realize, was that Harley was a sex maniac, and many more sessions were to follow. Even when we got to my bed, he continually awoke and fucked me incessantly. I was exhausted when I finally dropped him off at his home early the following morning.  

After that, Harley frequently popped in on his regular visits to our local shop. On most of these occasions, he arrive for coffee, before getting ordered to my knees, Harley once more skull-fucked me. It was as if I had become his fuck bunny. It was fantastic, and although it was rough and raw with no emotional connection, I loved it.

With my love life in high gear, I began to discern a difference in Cole, the youngest brother’s, attitude toward me. Unlike Harley, who now comfortably chatted to me at the pub, Cole observed me with a new intensity that made me uneasy. It was almost as if he knew something was amiss with Harley.

One evening when Harley had too much to drink at the bar, Cole insisted on taking Harley home. Harley naturally became stroppy about this, but given Cole’s superior size and weight, the contest was short-lived.

‘Oh fuck,’ I thought, ‘There goes my sex for the night.’

Twenty minutes later, as I was nursing was last drink of the night, I was stunned when Cole re-entered the bar once more.

With a smile, he occupied the stool next to me.

“Harley’s fucked, and already sleeping like a baby,” Cole said with a laugh.

I smiled in acknowledgement.

“Another?” he asked visually gesturing to my beer.

“No thanks, I’m done,” I replied.

In his affable manner, he asked, “Shit, buddy, are you going to dump me?”

“Well, I need a decent cup of coffee, which they don’t sell at the pub. I have got booze at home, so if you like, you can join me,” I challengingly offered.

“Yeah… Why not,” Cole replied.

Shortly, he followed me in his truck.

Exciting as this was and unaware of his voyeuristic episode, I had zero expectations.

After I had made my coffee and poured his drink, we sat in my lounge. Cole now bore his soul. I got the full lowdown on Harley’s mental problems, caused by their father. Harley, being the eldest by six years, endured the worst of their father’s physical abuse. He was indeed on medication and bipolar as I suspected. Hank, the best-looking of the three was the most secluded brother. He was remote and mistrustful. Cole, according to him was the most balanced and least damaged of the three. Although Cole did not elaborate, he alluded to the fact that his father had been a paedophile and accused of ‘fiddling’ with young girls. These charges had never stuck because the house cleaners had retracted their testimony after money had changed hands. After a riveting conversation, Cole ultimately supplied his coup de grace. 

“Paul, I am overjoyed that Harley and you get along so well.” He let his words sink in as I sat looking at him with a shitfaced grin.

“I like Harley…” I tried to counter before Cole cut to the chase.

“I saw you guys fucking. I watched it all a few weeks ago,” Cole, answered with his right foot twitching manically as he sat with his legs crossed.  

“Oh,” I nervously replied, dumbfounded.

“I know my brother’s not a queer… What did you do to entice him?” Cole asked with a hint of menace in his tone.

“Nothing, he demanded a blowjob from me,” I tried to proffer, before being interrupted.

“Bullshit!” Cole snarled, before continuing, “You know nothing about us, so let me put you in the picture,” Cole barked.

“Although our father looked like a fuckin’ hobo, he owned a shitload of land in this area. My brothers and I will not ever have to work a day in our lives. Farmers all around lease our properties annually, and the income is substantial. Harley is a mindless cunt, and I keep him on a tight leash financially. My theory is that you offered him money for sex,” Cole spat at me.

“No, I didn’t… He loves me sucking his dick and likes fucking me,” I muttered with all the sincerity I could muster. “I swear I gave him no money,” I concluded.

My entreaty seemed to strike a note with him because his demeanour became calmer.

“Please understand that we brothers’ are very wary of gold-digging bitches. That’s why we rather frequent whorehouses in the neighbouring town,” Cole explained.

I inwardly laughed at this suggestion. Although I knew that Cole was the only brother that scored at the pub from time to time, the free-range pussy in town were hardly queueing up to get fucked by the trio.

As he stared at me, he surprised me by saying, “I don’t have a big cock.”

“Neither does Harley,” I murmured before adding, “But he is very satisfactory.”

“Really?” he questioned with an intriguing tone.

“Sure,” I whispered.

“Mmm, Hank is the lucky one of us three. He takes after my mother’s well-hung father. Cole and I were always envious of him when we were growing up,” Cole admitted.

This information excited me because Hank had always been my favourite, not that I believed I had a fighting chance with either him or Cole.

As Cole’s foot stopped twitching, he stood before walking over to me. As he looked down at me, he pushed his shorts down revealing his erect dick.

“So, cocksucker, why don’t you give me a demonstration of why Harley is so enamoured with you.”

As I looked into his eyes, his huge hands cupped my head. Cole was slightly more gifted than Harley was, and his uncut dick was thicker. It was cone-shaped and curled upward like a banana. Cole’s foreskin snout was more abundant than Harley’s was and I could not help myself from allowing my lips from nibbling on the overhang. As I suspected, the taste was far less ripe than Harleys’. Unable to hold back, my hand retracted the hood revealing a less pissy taste. When my lashing tongue got to work, the sounds he emitted were breathtaking. He had a far more sensitive cockhead than his brothers’ and instantly his hands whirled around my head in a dance of delight. 

The added affection surprised me and when he leaned over to kiss me, I was gobsmacked. The kiss was also more sustained than I had anticipated and I reciprocated enthusiastically. Like a bitch in heat, I moved back onto the sofa and let him kiss me properly. His large frame was magical as I got compressed against the sofa. My entire body shuddered with delight as he fully encompassed me and continued kissing me.

“Listen, Paul, won’t the bed be more comfortable?” Cole eventually asked.

“Sure,” I almost yelled.

Once we got undressed, I had a good look at Cole. He was, naturally, far larger than Harley was but also much less hairy. 

To my delight, our kissing instantly followed. When I finally fell to my knees, I continued sucking his dick, which happily, was also thicker than Harley’s cock. Again, Cole’s sensual hand action ensued. As I began wondering if he would fuck me, my question got answered when he lifted me and pushed my body onto the bed face down. 

When I heard no spitting sounds, I prepared myself for a dry entry. Uncomfortable as it was, the double strike from the brothers negated my discomfort, and soon my arse adapted to his infiltration. Once more, Coles’ approach was far more sensual than Harley’s was, and soon his extra girth was tantalizing my backside enormously. A bonus was that he soon lowered his torso and started nibbling on my neck and ears.

An additional windfall for me was that horniness ran in the family, and Cole only departed early the following morning after repeatedly fucking my head and arse.

An interesting dynamic now emerged, with Harley visiting me in the mornings, and Cole in the evenings. Harley generally retired early at night, because of the medication he was taking. I was disappointed that a Ménage a Trois did not occur, but reasoned that the brothers preferred to keep our tête-à-têtes private, uncomfortable with their ‘secretive’ trysts. Needless to say… I had no complaints.

There is a belief in life that things, happen in threes. Fortunately, I soon found this to be a pleasant fact.

A month or so later, the bar was busy and I watched as a bit of free-range was about to get taken outside for a fucking. As my voyeuristic inclinations kicked in and I was about to ‘fetch’ something from my vehicle, Hank entered the bar.

Of the three brothers, he was the most handsome and sexy. Hank, however, frightened me. He was most like his sadistic father and apparently his dad’s favourite son. His temper was legendary, and someone you simply did not rub up the wrong way.

“Hi, Paul, mind if I join you?” he inquired.

“No… Not at all,” I replied, saddened that my outdoor trip had got negated.

After ordering his beer, he sat next to me silently for several minutes.

“Where are your brothers?” I finally proffered, to break the impasse.

“Sick in bed. There is a stomach bug doing the rounds and they are shitting and vomiting like crazy,” he replied with a laugh.

“Oh, so you’ve had a shitty day,” was all I could muster.

“No. I’ve had a great day,” Hank surprisingly answered.

“Oh,” I again reiterated.

“Yeah, today a pretty young estate agent called to see, wondering if I wanted to sell any of our family’s properties. She was extremely attractive and I even got to nail her. Whew, she had a tight fragrant pussy, and I muffed her and then fucked her.

“Don’t you love the smell of cunt?” he asked, before farcically correcting himself, “Oh, sorry, you are the village queer, so you won’t know what I am talking about.”

I meekly smiled at the exposé.

After a long pause, Hank continued. “Well, my brothers seem to be fond of you. Have you ensnared them in you homo ways?” He concluded with a thought-provoking stare.

I decided to play it safe, not wanting to spark his anger. “Well, I have a well-stocked booze supply,” I innocently proffered.

“Mmm,” he answered, with a mystified and distrustful grin.

Feeling that the heat in the kitchen was too intense for my liking, I sipped the last bit of beer, before I announced that it was time to leave.

“So, does that mean that your open bar policy doesn’t extend to me?” Hank countered.

“Of course not,” I nervously replied.

“Good… I follow you,” Hank said before slugging down his beer.

Whereas my journeys home with Harley and Cole had excited me, as I looked at Hank’s headlights following me I felt anxious. I wondered if he knew more than he was letting on and planning to teach me a lesson.

Once inside, I gingerly opened my drinks cabinet.

“Wow! You’ve got it all, Paul,” Hank gushed.

After pouring us each a whisky, we meandered through to my back porch.

“You’ve done a great job on this place. I haven’t been here in years, and it looks incredible,” Hank commented.

“Thanks, I am very pleased too,” I added.

As we stood surveying the garden, Hank stepped onto the lawn and rhetorically asked, “You don’t mind if I take a man-piss?”

Hank did not turn his back to me, and facing me pushed the front of his shorts down. The illumination from the porch gave me a clear view of the substantial cock I had heard about. It was fuckin’ impressive. I felt myself get hard as I observed his snout spraying piss all over the lawn. Once the flow ended abruptly, Hank appeared to be in no hurry to pull his shorts up.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked with a lascivious countenance.

With trepidation, I gingerly replied, “You have a very impressive cock.”

“I know my brothers have been fucking you,” he murmured, before adding, “I overheard them talking when popped in unexpectedly. Apparently… Cole saw you and Harley fucking. I then heard them agreeing on a daily routine. Harley, in the mornings and Cole at night.”

At this point, I worried this may be a setup, and that Hank was here to set the record straight and put this perversion with his brothers to rest after fuckin’ me up.

As I stood as if a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes alternated between suggestive and authoritative. Exciting as this was, I felt somewhat queasy.  

“Why don’t you strip and come over here?” Hank said in a commanding voice.

‘Oh, shit,’ I thought while removing my t-shirt and shorts.

As I approached him like a lamb getting led to the slaughter, Hank removed his shorts and underpants and tossed them to the side. Next, he pulled his t-shirt up and placed the front behind his neck.

Get to your knees he commanded as I looked at the frothy foam of his piss on the grass before him. I did as I got told, sure that his instruction was non-negotiable. With moist knees, I looked up into his lustful radiating eyes.

My stare got met with a torrent of piss spraying out of his cock snout as his left hand locked onto my head and hair.

“I kept some of my nectar for you, bitch, now open your mouth and swallow,” Hank ordered.

I swallowed to the best of my ability. As piss cascaded down my body, I wondered if this was Hank’s idea of retribution and humiliation. As I again stared up into his face, there was a look of maniacal satisfaction. Once the piss had stopped, his harsh mouth transformed into a grimace of cruelty.

With his hand still in control of my head, he began to rub his cock all over my face. “Smell the cunt I fucked today, isn’t it wonderful?” he exulted, before adding, “You queers should adapt to the natural world.”

Overcome by lust, and could give a shit about the odour emanating from his chunky dick. All I could think about was wrapping my lips around his knob, as I inhaled the pungency of his ripe crotch.

“Let me taste it,” I proffered, hoping for a skull-fucking by this stud.    

To my elation, a face flogging followed as he prodigiously whipped my face with his dick.

“You are a disgusting queer,” he barked as he swished his knob from side to side, slapping my face.

Instantly opening my lips, I extended my tongue in hopeful excitement. My reward was prompt as my mouth got stuffed with prime beef as Hank’s hands took control of my head. I almost choked as his hooded monster conquered my throat. As Hank’s thrusting commenced, saliva cascaded from my lips onto my chest. As I began panicking due to oxygen deprivation, he offered relief by pulling his dick out, before manically thrusting it into my throat once more. Rhythmically, I started varying my breathing in accordance.

After a brief skull-fucking, I got lifted by my hair before my body was commandeered back into the house. As I brutally got frogmarched toward my bedroom, I excitedly whimpered in anticipation. As my body got pushed onto the bed on my stomach, my arms got pulled back like a human wheelbarrow. After lodging his knob on my portal, Hank’s entry into my backside was pitiless but exhilarating. Hank now ploughed my arse vigorously. I was in heaven as I got ravaged. Much as I had enjoyed Harley and Cole, Hank was, by far, the mega alpha of the trio.

As I bleated, he incessantly hammered my arse, until his shuddering body unloaded into me. I got further rewarded, as my backside received a walloping after he had cum. This ‘torment’, made me shoot my load all over my duvet.

After we returned to my living room, Hank quickly downed another drink before dismissively announcing that he had to be on his way.

After that, I saw the brothers regularly. Sadly, I never got to enjoy an orgy with them. I supposed they were reluctant to show one another their walk on the wild side. For me, however, I was content to be the village queer and gladly took care of their frustrations.