Chapter 2 #2
Like, objectively, taking a dick sounds uncomfortable at best. I’ve never thought about it.
I’ve thought about a lot of things, sexually.
I’m twenty-two and male, and I think about sex the way Miles thinks about code—constantly and with way too much detail.
But that specific play has never been in the rotation.
What’s in the rotation right now, currently, actively, is the four of them standing around this couch having an argument about whether or not to ream me while I leak all over myself.
That’s the thing. That’s the specific thing.
The fact that I’m just here. And they’re up there. And they are deciding my use.
My cock throbs.
“I think,” Walker says, his voice taking on a decisive edge, “that I’m gonna do it.”
“Dude—”
“No, hear me out.” He holds up a hand to kill the protest. “When am I going to get a chance like this again? You know how tight that hole is gonna be?”
“Bro,” Grant says.
“I’m just saying. Chloe won’t let me anywhere near her cheeks, man. Every time I even look at her ass she acts like I insulted her mother.”
“So you’re going to cheat on your girlfriend—”
“I’m not cheating,” Walker insists, very reasonably. “It’s not a girl.”
Dead silence hits the room.
“That’s not—” Grant starts.
“It’s not a girl,” Walker says again. “So it’s not cheating.”
“He’s right. Is it cheating?” Finn asks, looking around. “Actually. Is it?”
“Yes,” Grant says. “This is cheating. Straight up.”
“I don’t know, bro. I don’t think so.”
“The definition of cheating usually involves another person.” Walker says, and then he shifts his gaze to me. “He’s pretty much just a sex doll right now. It’s not cheating if you’re just jacking off using a cocksleeve.”
That does something very specific to my cock. The sex doll thing. The cocksleeve thing. The casual way Walker said it, like it was just the obvious, accurate label for the situation.
So the thing I was trying not to think about is this: it turns me on getting objectified. Dehumanized. Turned into a cocksleeve. A sex doll.
Fuck, I feel like a total freak.
“I have a girlfriend too, man,” Grant says, but it’s pretty obvious he’s losing the argument. “It feels like cheating.”
“Then don’t do anything,” Walker says, simply. “Nobody’s making you do anything, bro. I’m doing it.”
Walker moves to kneel between my legs. He hooks his fingers in my shorts that are still bunched around my ankles, and yanks them off the rest of the way. Then he gets his hands under my knees and hikes my legs up.
The whole room leans in.
All four of them, leaning forward, staring straight at my asshole.
There’s a moment of total silence.
Then Grant lets out a breath.
“Okay. What the fuck.”
“I know, right?” Walker says.
“No, I mean—is that what a guy’s ass is supposed to look like?”
“Man, what were you expecting?” Miles asks, amused.
I’m curious too.
“I don’t know. More hair?”
“Some shit?” Finn adds.
“Dude, shut the fuck up.”
“Do you think he waxes it?”
What the hell?
“No, that’s just genetics,” Walker says.
“You’re saying this from experience?”
“I’m saying it because I also don’t have a lot of hair and I’ve always just assumed—you know what? I don’t want to talk about my ass right now.”
“No one wants to hear about your ass either,” Finn says.
Walker pushes my legs up a little more. “Can someone hold him open?”
Grant steps to the other end of the couch and looms above my head.
His hands come down and grip my legs behind the knees, pulling them back until I’m folded open.
My body is forced to collapse inward, and suddenly I can see my own dick in front of me—rigid and red, leaking a slug-thick goo that clings to my slit.
And right above my face is the massive tent in Grant’s jeans.
Grant is boned up. Grant is very boned up.
Idaho has never felt so far away behind that mountain.
Walker gathers some spit. I hear the slop, and then I feel it right against my hole. My entire body wants to shudder and I tell it to absolutely not do that. It listens, barely.
A fingertip circles my rim.
I feel my cock throb. I feel my hole throb, too. This heavy pulse that goes through everything.
“Oh, fuck,” Walker breathes. “Oh, that’s—fuck, it’s so soft. I don’t think a dick fits here, man.”
“It can,” Finn insists.
“Put your finger in. You gotta open it up first.” Miles is leaning in now too.
“I know I gotta work him open.”
“Then just do it.”
Walker sinks his finger inside.
I fight the noise—I fight it hard. I win, but it costs something, and what it costs is I have to close my eyes for a second. That probably counts as a reaction but I don’t think anyone notices it because Walker is groaning and everyone’s attention is on his finger in my hole.
“He’s—” Walker shakes his head. “Holy shit.”
“Good or bad?” Miles asks.
“Good, man. Really good.” He fucks his finger in and out, and I focus very hard on Idaho and on not making a single sound. Grant’s cock is right above my face straining against his jeans and I’m not thinking about that either. “We need lube.”
“Just spit on it,” Finn says.
“This is not hentai, man,” Walker scoffs. “We’re not tearing his ass.”
“He’s fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He would move if he wasn’t fine.”
Am I fine, or just really, really horny?
Fuck if I know.
“I want to try,” Finn says, and then his finger is there too, pushing alongside Walker’s.
Walker goes “Bro—” and Finn is like “It’ll fit, it’ll fit, it’s fine.” I lose the thread of it because there are two fingers reaming me now. How wild is that?
And it hurts, too. It’s uncomfortable as fuck. But it’s also insanely good. Insanely.
I still don’t make any sound.
I’m very proud of myself.
Distantly, I realize that Miles has left.
It’s weird that I even notice his absence with all this happening to my body, but I guess I was actively waiting for him to step up.
Miles has the longest fingers out of all of us, and a part of me was genuinely looking forward to feeling them stretch my hole out.
He comes back into my line of sight a minute later, dropping down on his knees with a white bottle that I recognize as the oil Walker uses for massages.
He passes it to Walker without a word.
“Good call, bro.”
Walker and Finn pull their fingers out, and then there’s slick against my entrance.
Walker’s finger pushes in again, much easier now, and he stretches me out properly.
There’s a debate I’m only half-listening to about how many fingers and how long and whether this is enough.
Apparently none of them would know since nobody in this house has ever fucked an ass in their life.
“We’re all virgins,” Grant mutters, sounding faintly stunned.
Walker snorts, working his fingers deeper into my hole and doing something unhinged inside. “Virgin ass-men. New low.”
“New high,” Finn corrects, watching Walker’s fingers work. “Look at what we get to work with, man.”
Miles reaches over, his hand wrapping around my cock.
“It’s so weird,” he says, stroking me slowly and spreading all that thick pre.
“What?”
“I didn’t think dicks could be so different.” He turns his wrist slightly. “His foreskin moves different than mine.” He presses his thumb against the swollen tip. “His pisshole is bigger.”
“Okay, I didn’t need to know that,” Grant complains.
Grant is a little hypocrite, I think. I definitely saw his junk twitching.
“You think he’s gay?” Miles asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Or like… bi, or something?”
“He had like four girls this semester alone, man,” Finn says. “Jess, and the girl from his fluid dynamics class, and the redhead from Delta Phi—”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“We’ve lived with him for two years,” Grant states. “Come on, we’d know.”
“I’m just saying. I mean—look at him.”
There’s a pause where they all do exactly that.
I can even imagine the picture of it. Grant above me, big hands hooked behind my knees, holding me folded open. Walker between my legs, two fingers opening my hole so it can be used by his cock. Miles with his hand around my rock-hard length.
I wonder what my face looks like right now.
I wonder if I look as gone as I feel, or if the outside of me is still doing the thing, still blank and still and unreadable.
I hope it is. I want it to be. I want to look like nothing is happening while everything is happening.
And I want all four of them to keep looking at me like I’m a piece of fuckmeat.
Miles moves his other hand, pushing my shirt up. I feel his fingers brush my ribs and then my chest, finding my nipple right after. He pinches it slightly, and I have to do a significant amount of work to not make a sound. Man, why didn’t I ever try to play with my nips? It feels amazing.
“That’s gay, dude,” Finn says, immediately.
“And this isn’t?” Miles gestures vaguely at the rest of the situation.
“There’s a spectrum, you know?”
“You’re just saying words now.”
“I’m just saying there’s a spectrum, and touching a guy’s nip is on the gay end of the spectrum—”
“Further than two fingers in the ass?”
A pause.
“Uh,” Finn says, and a second later his hand joins Miles’ on the other side of my chest and finds my other nipple.
I feel his fingers play with it enthusiastically and it’s just wild.
It’s a lot all at once.
Walker’s fingers fucking me open and Miles’ thumb on one side and Finn on the other and Grant above me and I’m staring at Grant’s tent and—yeah, fuck. It’s a lot.
Miles snorts suddenly. “You can’t say shit, man. Not bricked up like that.”
Finn sighs theatrically and pinches my nipple hard. “Like I said, the dick likes what it likes. And what it likes right now is Kit’s nips.”
“They’re pretty,” Grant says, from above me. He moves his crotch closer to my face. I can feel the heat and the thick musk of it.
“I know, right? They look like they’d be good to—” Miles starts saying, then he just leans down and latches onto my nipple.
The sound I don’t make is the most heroic thing I have ever done in my life.