Chapter 2 #7
Honestly, I thought Grant would be the gentlest out of all these guys. I was so wrong. Like, so fucking wrong. This is gravity and muscle and the violence of a cock that doesn’t give a fuck about my limits.
“Jesus Christ,” Walker breathes, and I can hear how hard he is just from watching. “You just—fuck, bro, you just impaled him.”
“Is he okay?” Finn’s voice is a little awed, a little worried.
Grant grunts, his hips rolling up into me, making me feel every single inch of him. “He can take it.” His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine bows. “Ain’t that right, slut?”
My ass clenches around him involuntarily, my body betraying my brain yet again. Because my brain is screaming pain pain pain while my dick stays iron-hard.
“Yeah. You love this,” Grant says under his breath, rolling his hips again. “Love being used like a dumb fucktoy.”
Yeah, my brain supplies, unhelpfully. Yeah, I really do.
Then he starts moving for real.
Miles’ cum is still hot inside me, and every time Grant shoves his cock in, it squelches. He fucks it deeper into my guts, grinding it around, churning it up until I can feel it dripping out around his shaft.
The nasty sound shouldn’t be this hot. It’s gross. It’s filthy. It’s the sound of another man’s cum getting sloshed around inside me by a second man’s cock.
But fuck. It’s proof, isn’t it? Proof that I’m not a person right now.
Just a hole. Just a warm, wet, willing piece of fuckmeat they’re passing around.
Proof that my insides belong to all of them.
That Miles’ load is just lube for Grant, that Grant’s load will be lube for whoever’s next.
That my body doesn’t even get a say in what stays inside me.
My cock is leaking again. I can feel it smearing against my stomach, hot and sticky, every pulse of Grant’s hips dragging another drop out of me.
I’m so fucking hard it hurts. It really hurts.
But dolls don’t get to come.
So I just keep still, legs spread, hole full of cum and cock, and let Grant use me. Let him fuck Miles’ load deeper. Let my own dick twitch and leak and beg.
Finn’s suddenly looming over me, fisting my hair to lock my head in place.
“Bro, look at his eyes rolling back. He’s completely gone.”
I don’t know what I look like and I don’t care. Don’t care that I’m probably cross-eyed, with drool stringing off my chin and snot running down my face.
All I know is Grant’s cock.
It’s splitting me open. Every time he slams me down onto his lap, his fat head rams against something deep inside that makes my whole body light up like a short-circuit. My toes curl without my permission. My thighs shake. My dick twitches.
Grant hauls me up almost off his dick and slams me back down. He does it again. Harder. And again. Harder. My brain checks out completely.
“He’s still not making noise,” Walker says from somewhere behind me. “Tough as hell.”
Walker doesn’t get it. I’m not being tough. I’m just not here anymore. There’s no Kit left to make noise. I’m inanimate. I’m a toy. I’m plastic. I’m silicone with two holes.
“Dude, I think he’s in pain,” Finn says, bringing his face closer to mine, trying to meet my eyes.
Bless his stupid, soft heart.
“He’s fine,” Grant says, using my hips as handles to bounce me off his cock. “You hurting, doll?”
I stare at the wall.
“See? Made for it.”
He finds a rhythm that’s too rough and too fast, lifting my hips and snapping up to meet them. My weight works against me, gravity fucking me as much as he is because every time I come down, I sink deeper onto his rod. Every bounce makes my cock twitch. Every slam brings more drool out of my slit.
Finn groans, moving away and letting go of my hair. They’re all in my line of sight again, except Grant, and I wish I were staring at the ceiling because Finn’s horny face is kinda gross.
“Fuck, I wanna go again,” he says, staring at my mouth. It’s not a mystery what he’s thinking.
“Dude,” Miles says from the floor, smoking a joint. “You just drained your balls. Chill.”
“So?” He grips his obvious hard-on.
“That’s not normal, man.”
“Bro, don’t say that while you’re stroking your own meat,” Walker says.
“I’m not stroking,” Miles says, while stroking.
“Your hand is literally on your dick, bro.”
“I’m just fondling it.”
“That’s stroking.”
“Whatever, man.”
Grant chooses that second to pull me completely off his cock and drop me back down with full force. The sound is nasty as hell, but not as nasty and loud as the sound Finn makes.
He grabs my hand.
“C’mon, Kit, I need—” Finn’s voice cracks, and then he’s shoving his cock into my limp palm. He wraps my fingers around his shaft and starts pumping, using my hand like it’s a cheap pocket pussy. “Just like that—fuck, yeah—”
His dick’s hard and slick again. Like, embarrassingly hard. Pathetically desperate.
“Bro, seriously?” Walker’s voice drips with disdain.
“He wasn’t using it,” Finn defends himself, like this is perfectly reasonable.
And he’s right. I wasn’t using it. My hand’s just hanging there, useless, five fingers attached to a doll, and Finn found a purpose for it. That’s within the spirit of the arrangement. So I let him fuck my loose grip while Grant keeps wrecking my ass.
“Fuck, I’m close—”
Walker snorts. “Such a fucking virgin.”
“I already said I’m not—”
“You blew in one minute the first time and now you’re humping his hand like a horny dog.”
“It’s been a stressful week,” Finn says with zero shame.
My other hand gets picked up about ten seconds later.
Walker wraps it around his own shaft, grumbling about how if the rookie gets a turn, he’s getting one too.
“Man, you such a hypocrite,” Finn says, his voice cracking on the last word.
I agree with Finn. I can feel how hard and throbbing Walker is, and every time he fucks into my hand I can feel his balls tighten up against my knuckles.
Miles exhales a lazy cloud of smoke, glasses slightly askew.
“Fucking animals, the lot of you,” he says while still working his own meat, eyes glued to where Grant’s cock keeps disappearing into me.
Walker turns to him, his hips rocking into my grip. “Says the guy who already filled him up and is still jerking to the show.”
Miles shrugs, unbothered. “Best seat in the house.”
And Grant—God, Grant’s so fucking deep. I would be thinking about the biology of it if I were able to think at all.
“There’s our slut, taking my cock like a good little whore,” he says against the back of my neck. His hand slides up my stomach, fingers trailing up and wrapping around my throat. “Fuck, you’re made for this. Our dumb little fuck-doll spread out letting the whole house get off.”
My hole clenches around him so hard he groans.
I think I’d be able to get off on dirty talk alone, honestly.
“Yeah,” Grant says, sounding satisfied. “You love being used. Love being passed around.” He rolls his hips, grinding right against my prostate. “Prettiest little cumdump I’ve ever seen.”
“Shit, shit, shit—” Finn’s hips jerk against my fist, his sweaty forehead thumping my shoulder. “Bro I’m not gonna—I can’t—it’s too—”
Walker laughs, breathless. “Already?”
“It’s his hand, man, it’s—you don’t understand—”
“I’ve got the other one, dipshit.”
“Then you get it.”
“I’m not about to blow in twenty seconds.”
“You don’t know—” Finn’s hips snap forward, his dick throbbing in my palm as he lets out a pathetic, high-pitched whine that has no dignity in it at all.
The guys are going to roast him for that for a decade.
He rides it out through my fist, shuddering and swearing, and then his grip on my hand goes slack.
He slides off the couch onto the floor.
“That was like thirty seconds,” Miles says, passing him the joint.
“Best thirty seconds of my life.”
“That’s sad, man.”
It really is.
Grant’s been going this whole time, saying things against the back of my neck that are making my cock absolutely insane.
“Taking it so good. Such a good little fucktoy.” He rolls his hips, all the way in, and I feel every inch of it. “That’s what you’re for, isn’t it? You’re not one of the bros right now. You’re just our warm sleeve. Our personal cumrag.”
My cock is leaking a fucking river onto my thigh.
“Dude,” Walker says, watching it. “He’s gonna come hands-free again.”
“Let him,” Grant says, burying himself deep. “He can come whenever he wants. Won’t stop me from using this sweet little cunt until I’m done.”
Walker jacks himself in my hand for another minute, and then he goes “okay, yeah” in a tone that means he’s right on the edge. He lets go of my hand, and climbs up onto the back of the couch, aiming his flushed, swollen meat right at my eyes.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Grant says, pulling us both back an inch.
“Almost done, bro.”
“Get your dick outta my face.”
“It’s his face, not yours.”
“It’s in my eyeline.”
“Then look the other way, man.”
“You better watch that aim,” Grant warns, but he’s still fucking into me.
“Just look at Kit, man, look at his—yeah, there, look at that, how are you thinking about anything else right now?”
Walker gets closer, dragging his hot tip across my lips. He strokes himself slow, using my mouth as a surface, the ridge of the head catching on my bottom lip.
“Fuck, that’s good. Gonna paint his face.”
He strokes himself faster. His other hand grips my face, tilting it up so I’m looking right at him, and in under ten seconds he’s emptying himself.
It splatters my cheek and nose, hot and thick and degrading.
He groans, squeezing out the last drops, then smears the wet tip across my skin until I’m glazed.
Grant has stalled out—if it was to watch or because he was scared he got jizz on him, I don’t care. I’m just focused on his dick throbbing inside me while another guy paints my face.
Walker swipes a glob of cum from my cheek and shoves it into my mouth.
“Taste that, slut,” he murmurs, spreading it onto my tongue and teeth. “Know your place.”
“Fuck,” Finn breathes. “That’s so fucking hot, bro.”