My wife and I like to have group sex. We especially like to have three-ways where the "third" is another man. Usually, we have good luck with our choice of play partners, but not always.

Some of you may have read my earlier story, "Group Sex Disaster Stories." If you liked that, you should love this.

My wife and I were in the mood for a three-way. My wife has a particular fetish where she likes to be fucked by older men. We put an ad out online, stating our intentions and our availability. We stipulated that the play partner had to be older, and had to be bisexual.

The man who answered told us that he was 72 years old, nicely hung (6.5" and cut), and a shooter of big, wet loads. My wife thought that sounded perfect, and we invited him over.

He was nearly half an hour late, which was a serious strike against him. He also attempted to blame it on our "sorry-assed directions," which is no way to make friends with me, either.

With my wife leading the way, the three of us went into the spare bedroom. This was a signal for me. My wife and I usually take people upstairs into our bed. That we were taking this guy into the spare bedroom was my wife sending me a message: this fucker is on probation.

We all quickly got naked. I don't know where this guy was buying his office supplies, but his tape measure was faulty. His "6.5 inches" turned out to be a lot closer to four inches, but it was nice and thick. He didn't mention his balls (which were huge), and covered with downy white hair.

My wife started sucking his cock, while I got behind her and teased at her pussy and asshole, getting her wet, and getting her nice and opened up. He looked disappointed.

"I thought you were bisexual," he grunted.

"I am!" I replied. "Need proof?" My wife got out of the way, and I knelt between his legs and started giving him a good, thorough cocksucking.

"Yeah ... eat Daddy's cock. Suck your Daddy. Suck your Daddy good," he moaned. "Suck it. Come on, you queer boy. Get me good and hard."

Getting him hard turned out to be something of a challenge. No matter what I tried, no matter the technique, his cock stayed soft. Every now and then, it would start thickening and showing some encouragement, and then wilt again.

"Come on, little boy. Little faggot suck-boy. Get me hard."

I lifted my mouth of his cock. "Calling me names doesn't do anything for me," I said.

"For either of us," my wife warned.

"Never mind," he said, rolling on to the bed and presenting his asshole to me.

"Start rimming me. Show your Daddy how good you eat ass."

"Not my thing," I said.

"Get your tongue down there, you queer little whore."

"Not my thing," I repeated. "And I think I made it pretty clear about being called names." I was smiling and doing my very best to be affable and polite. This guy was an asshole, but he was a guest. My instinct for hospitality was at war with my impulse to slap his face sideways.

"Tongue fuck your Daddy's asshole, faggot," he groaned, fingering his butt.

The smile left my face. "Have you been LISTENING?!?" I snarled. "This is totally getting off on the wrong foot!"

The old man turned to my wife and beckoned with his hand, "Get over here, bitch, and sit on my face."

"THAT DOES IT!!" my wife roared, grabbing her clothes. "I'm going to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. When I come out, you need to be gone!" She stomped out and slammed the door.

"What's her problem?" he asked.

"You need to leave," I reminded him.

He waggled his cock at me. "What are you waiting for? Start sucking!"

At that moment, I reached out and slapped his balls, hard. He gave a yelp of surprise and pain and looked at me as if it were for the first time. "HEY!!" he yelled. "What the fuck was that all about?"

"Grab your shit and get out," I told him. "If you aren't dressed and gone in sixty seconds, I am picking you up and tossing you naked out on to the sidewalk. And I'm big enough to do it."

He dressed quickly and hobbled to the door, gingerly fingering his crotch. At the door, he looked at me accusingly. "I think you may have damaged something," he said. "I should sue."

"Don't come back," I said, and slammed the door in his face.

When my wife emerged from the bathroom, she was in a sour mood. I figured the entire evening was ruined, but she suggested we go out to the gay and lesbian nightclub in town "To forget about that asshole." We did, got drunker than usual, came home in a cab, and had some pretty wild sex.

Is there a moral to all this? Maybe. "Win some, lose some." Comes to mind. I realize -- when you advertise to have sex with strangers -- you take a chance that it isn't going to click. This was clearly one of those times.