Grant pulls my legs more, his forearm digging into the backs of my thighs, pressing them up toward my chest. Walker groans louder and I feel the shift immediately, the way it pushes the pressure deeper inside me.
Grant’s other hand works his belt buckle loose.
“Dude, no. Wait for your turn,” Finn groans. Miles lets out a noise halfway between a sigh and a laugh, his thumbs still twisting and pinching my nipples.
Grant’s jeans hit the floor and his dick slaps against my cheek before I even see it—heavy and wet and burning hot. It’s stupidly big, too. Ridiculously so. A length that makes you re-evaluate your life choices when it’s nudging your lips.
“Look at that log,” Walker pants, voice rough from reaming my ass open with his own fucking log. “Bet it’ll be like throat-fucking a Red Bull can.”
“Dude’s built like a fridge and hung like a horse. How’s that fair?” Finn says.
“Bro, don’t be jealous,” Grant grunts, dragging the fat cockhead over my mouth, smearing the slimy pre-cum across my lips.
It’s salty and a little bitter, but it’s the musky jock pheromones that get to my head. Ineverthought I’d be a cock-sniffer, but here I am, inhaling that heavy musk that goes straight to my brain and makes my dick throb. I take another deep drag of the sour sweat scent until my vision is blurry,feeling pathetic about the way I’m panting against his inner thighs, drooling a leaky mess while my nose brushes the veiny underside of his shaft.
He notices, too. His cock jumps, smacking my nose.
Isn’t it even more pathetic that I enjoyed it?
He wraps a hand around the thick root and yanks it back, then slaps the heavy head right against my mouth. Once. Twice. The wet smack of his meat against my lips is loud as hell, and more pre smears all over my chin. I keep my mouth slack and my lips soft, letting him rub his bloated cockhead against me like I’m nothing but a warm, willing hole.
“Fuck,” Grant says, quietly, slapping my mouth with his cock again. “That feels good.”
There’s that.
There’s also Walker not being quiet about anything. He’s cursing steadily, fucking me with his full weight behind every stroke, and the slap of his hips against my ass is a loudclap clap clap.
And there’s Miles’ mouth back on my nipple, tongue working circles, teeth nipping. And Finn talking somewhere to my left saying “Bro, this is so hot, this is actually so hot, look at him—holy fuck!”
There’s so much going on. So fucking much, man.
Grant lets go of his cock and grips the back of my head, tilting it back. His fingers push into my mouth, two of them, forcing my jaw open. I allow him to open it with no resistance, but I also don’t help at all.
“Bet he could fit more than fingers,” Miles murmurs against my chest, his tongue circling my nipple before he bites down.Fuck, that felt good!(Again, Am I a masochist?)
“There you go,” Grant groans, his thumb pressing down on my tongue. “Good fucking toy.”
Fuck.
Fuck,yeah.
That almost pulls a moan out of me.
His cockhead nudges past my lips, and I let him press in, let him fuck my mouth shallow while Walker drills my ass deep.
Finn whistles. “Shit, Kit’s built for this. Look at him, just taking it.” It’s his fingers, I think, trailing up my thigh. “Is he even breathing?”
Grant rolls his hips forward, feeding me another inch. “Dolls don’t need to breathe.”
Walker laughs, burying himself deeper into my ass, throbbing like crazy. “Damn, Grant’s already thinking only with the head below.”
Pre-cum spills over my tongue, and I swallow, my throat working reflexively. It’s a wild feeling. Because it’s thick like too much spit pooled at the back of your throat, except it’s not spit. It’s warmer and slimy, and the taste lingers long after it goes down.
Grant rocks his hips and leaks more onto my tongue and I swallow that too. My dick throbs like it has opinions about this.
It does, apparently. My cock has a lot of opinions tonight.
Walker’s pace stutters. “Fuck, his hole is clamping down even tighter.”
