Chapter 2 #3
An electric wave starts from the nipple Miles is now slobbering on and goes down all the way to my hole, where I clench around Walker’s fingers. My cock leaks onto my stomach. I stare at Grant’s tent, with nowhere else to look.
Idaho, I miss you.
“Dude,” Finn gasps. “That’s—okay, that’s—”
“What? Gay?” Miles asks against my skin, which makes Finn laugh.
“So gay, man. Let me try it, too.”
And then he leans his head down next to Miles, forcing his way under Grant’s arms, and puts his mouth on my other nipple, sucking hard.
I am doing so well. I am doing genuinely so well.
“Hole’s ready,” Walker declares, and I can hear the smugness dripping off him. “I’m nailing him first.”
“Hold on,” Grant interjects.
“Bro—!”
“I said hold on.” Grant shifts above me, still gripping my legs. He looks at Miles. “Check if he’s actually there. For all we know he’s cooked from Finn’s edibles.”
“He’s not cooked. Come on,” Finn says. “I don’t think he even had any.”
“Check anyway.”
Miles leans over my face, looks at me for a second, and says: “We’re not stopping if you don’t call it. But if you’re really in there, blink twice.”
I blink twice.
The room absolutely erupts.
“Holy shit—!”
“Yo—”
“He’s actually—bro, he’s in there—”
Grant’s dick twitches against my head through his jeans, rigid and involuntary, and he makes a sound that definitely came from somewhere he didn’t plan to open.
“Bro,” Finn says, looking at Grant with a wicked grin. I want to grin too.
“Shut up, man.”
“Okay,” Walker says. “Moving on.”
He shoves his shorts down and his cock jumps out, and it is… Okay, maybe Walker’s junk is a situation. It’s a veiny log of meat, curving slightly under the weight of a fat, flared head that’s already turning purple, leaking slime all over the place. And he’s so hard.
“Shut up, Finn,” Walker says, stroking his dick and making it all wet.
“I didn’t say anything,” Finn defends.
“You’re thinking out loud.”
“I’m thinking that’s a lot of dick to put in someone’s ass for the first time, yeah.”
I’m pretty sure that’s the smartest thing Finn said all night.
“He can take it,” Walker declares.
Walker spits into his palm, slicks his shaft up, then presses the fat cockhead against my entrance.
His thumb digs in beside the tip, trying to force the head inside even though I’m tight as hell.
My hole resists, clamping down, and Walker has to work for every inch—pressing in, easing back, and lunging again.
It burns like a bitch. Like, holy shit, call an ambulance bad. Like, can someone die from getting fucked bad.
But then there’s this final stretch, a give, and suddenly the fat crown is popping inside me, pulsing with his heartbeat while I clench around him.
“Fuck,” Walker pants. “Fuck, it’s so—fuck.”
That’s an eloquent way to put it, yes, because… fuck! I’ve never felt anything like this kind of good pain.
Does that make me a masochist or something?
Seriously, though. Am I a masochist? Because this feels incredible. It’s insane that it feels this good. Under the burn, the stretch, and the physical shock of a dick forcing my insides open for the first time—it feels good. My body is embarrassingly into it all.
And I’m obviously not the only one into it, because Walker groans like he’s fucking dying. “Oh my God. Oh my God, bro, I’m about to blow!”
“Premature much?” Finn snorts from somewhere near my left knee. “Dude hasn’t even bottomed out and he’s already tapping out.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Walker pants, but he’s grinning, sweat dripping off his nose onto my stomach. “It’s his fault for having a—I don’t know, a world-class ass.”
“You’re a two pump loser,” Miles says. “That’s what you are.”
“I’m not, I just—give me a second!”
“Bro, you better not bust inside,” Finn warns.
“I know, I’m not—” Walker lunges deeper and his groan cuts off into something that’s barely human. “Holy shit!”
Walker buries the rest of the way in, slow and fucking merciless, until he’s balls-deep inside me.
It is pure agony, this massive log of meat ramming into places that have never seen the light of day.
I feel every single veiny ridge of him stretching my walls to the absolute limit, and it feels like my body is being split right down the middle, but the trauma of it is sending the most fucked-up waves of pleasure straight to my brain.
Call me stubborn for staying offline when every nerve in my body is telling me to start screaming.
“Kit’s dick went soft,” Miles observes.
He’s not wrong. My cock has flagged against my stomach, the burn in my ass temporarily overriding everything else.
But honestly, it’s because 100% of my brain abandoned the rest of my body to focus only on my reamed-out hole, leaving my junk completely useless and dead while my insides melt around Walker’s cock.
Finn snorts. “Can’t believe you’re this bad at nailing ass, bro.”
“Not my fault,” Walker grunts, pulling out slowly just to slam-fuck back in, making my vision whiten at the edges. “His hole is just too tight.”
“And his dick is soft, bro. That’s a performance review.”
“Is it good?” Grant asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“Good don’t cut it, man,” Walker says, rolling his hips and rubbing something inside me that feels really good. Once again, he pulls out to slam back inside without a single care in the world.
“Man, can you not wreck those cheeks before I have a go?” Finn asks.
Walker laughs, breathless, hips jerking like he’s fighting not to bust. “Then maybe he shouldn’t feel so good,” he grits out, and then he’s slamming into me full-force, balls-deep in one brutal shove.
“You guys sound like animals,” Grant says, like he isn’t grinding his bulge against my forehead right now.
My dick twitches, half-hard again despite the ache. Yeah, there’s something wrong with me.
Walker finds a rhythm, rough and fast as expected of him, using my hips like handles, his thumbs digging into the divots of my pelvis. I bite my tongue, refusing to make a sound even when he hits that spot that makes my brain go static, his nuts slapping against me again and again.
It hurts so much, but it’s also so delicious.
Finn’s stroking himself over his sweatpants, his fingers working circles around the head of his cock while he watches Walker nail me.
“This is the most hardcore shit I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, half to himself.
Grant’s dick drags across my forehead again, and I think about tilting my head just enough to get his bulge in my mouth, but I don’t. Because I’d need to move to do that, and I don’t want to. Also, I want to see if Grant will get there on his own.
So I stay still. Let them use me.
And fuck, if that isn’t the best feeling in the world.
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.
I never thought 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 loud clap 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?”