SUANA GAMES

We’ve been circling each other for months.

They’re boyfriends. Not exactly open, not exactly monogamous—the way straights try to define it. Nah. This is that gay, make-your-own-rules kind of thing. Boundaries exist, but so do dick pics. And charged messages. And chemistry that hums even through a screen.

Ginger and Latin. Both fit. Both into it. The DM energy? Slow-burn filthy. Always respectful, always pulsing with almost. They said they want to jerk off together—maybe with me watching. Maybe watching me. That’s the line. For now.

But god, we’ve stayed in touch. A lot. Mutual thirst. Fun tension. Full-blown photo war.

And yet, we hadn’t met.

Not for this.

Until yesterday. And not how any of us imagined.

I was finishing up a sauna session, towel low, walking out—when they walked in. Both in speedos. Both glowing, confident, relaxed. One of them—tall, Latin, sculpted—had that calm gravity. The ginger looked me up and down with a spark in his eyes like he already knew the rules to a game we hadn’t started playing yet.

I paused. Smirked. Turned my ass right back around and followed them in.

Okay. Game on.

Room’s full. Who knows who’s straight—but who cares. The shift is immediate. Silent, thick, and undeniably electric.

I sit down right next to one of them. No eye contact. No words.

Just a subtle towel shift. Deliberate. My cock’s half-out. Covered... but not really. A little preview. Just enough to make them wonder if it’s what they remember from the pics.

Let it hang there. Heavy. Still. Present.

I don’t look up. But I feel them noticing.

It’s quiet. Everyone’s pretending nothing’s happening. But I can feel this magnetic field humming between our three bodies—my brain running wild.

Do it. Let’s see who flinches first.

Then he does.

That smug, sexy fucker stretches his speedo open. Just enough. Like he’s airing out—nothing dramatic. But from where I’m sitting? Direct view of his cock.

Oh... well played.

You cheeky little slut. Alright. I see you.

The ginger bends over to stretch—deep and slow. Ass up, cheeks tightening that thin blue fabric, bulge on full adjustment mode. He’s showing off, and badly pretending he’s not.

Okay, now you’re just being disrespectful.

I almost laugh out loud. It’s so obvious. So hot. So them.

But then—fuck.

I start getting hard.

Like... actual, problem-hard.

Shit. Not here. Not now. Don’t be that guy. Don’t be the one that makes it weird.

I bail.

Step out into the hallway. Press against the wall, breathing. Trying to get my blood back where it belongs.

You are not walking into the showers with a hard-on like that. Chill. Down, boy.

Minute passes. I gather myself. Then I walk back in.

No hesitation this time. I sit directly in front of them. Legs wide. Towel loose. No shame.

Let them try not to look.

I don’t say a thing. But the message is loud as hell.

I’m still in control. And I’m gonna make you both break.

Their eyes flick down. Then back up. They fail. I win.

This game is delicious.

Eventually we all exit. Light laughs in the hallway. Casual nods. A little that was fun, wasn’t it? in our smirks.

They head to the pool. I go get dressed.

Still haven’t played.

But someday?