Chapter 19
“Now, you’re relaxed,” Samson rumbled, his voice rough as gravel, and hooked his arms beneath Katt’s knees, spreading him wide.
The swollen head of his cock dragged through the slick mess of Katt’s spent cum, smearing it along his twitching shaft, the thick ridge of his crown catching on the sensitive underside with each slow roll of his hips.
Samson slicked his palm with more lube, then wrapped his fist around both their cocks, the heat of his skin branding Katt’s hypersensitive flesh.
His thumb traced the pulsing vein on the underside of Katt’s dick, pressing just hard enough to make his breath hitch, before sliding down to circle the leaking slit.
Katt whimpered as Samson’s fingers returned to his ass, two thick digits stretching him open with deliberate slowness, the pads of his fingertips grinding against his prostate in slow, maddening circles.
His cock jerked in Samson’s grip, already hardening again, the oversensitive head throbbing as it rubbed against the ridged underside of Samson’s shaft.
The friction was almost too much—almost painful—but the way Samson’s breath hitched when Katt’s hips stuttered upward told him the man loved every second of his struggle.
Katt’s hips rolled forward, fucking up into the tight ring of Samson’s fist, his cock thickening with each slow drag of the man’s palm.
Samson pulled his fingers free with a slick sound, and the sudden absence left Katt’s hole clenching around nothing, the stretch already fading into a hollow ache.
Samson slicked his own shaft in long, unhurried strokes, the lube catching the light, then pressed his fingers back inside to work the rest of it deeper, spreading and curling until Katt’s breath broke.
When he drew them out the final time, Katt lay open beneath him, slick and flushed and waiting.
Katt whimpered as the blunt, slick head of Samson’s cock nudged against his hole, the pressure sending a jolt of heat up his spine.
Samson’s fist tightened around his dick, the draw of his palm slow and measured, each stroke pulling a broken sound from Katt’s throat.
The man’s other hand gripped Katt’s hip, fingers digging into the muscle as he pressed forward, the thick crown stretching Katt open inch by agonizing inch, working him open with a burn that climbed his spine and lodged behind his teeth.
Katt’s breath stuttered, his body tensing as the flared ridge of Samson’s cockhead breached him—the stretch cresting into something close to pain—and then Samson’s fist twisted around his shaft, wet heat swallowing him whole, and the pleasure took everything else with it.
He had never in his life felt so full. The blunt, swollen crown wedged itself past Katt’s rim with a thick, slow pop, the pain as real as a fist slammed between his cheeks, but it didn’t stop, just kept coming, the shaft splitting him wider than he’d ever thought possible, stretching the slick, trembling ring of muscle until he was certain something would tear.
The heat of it was wild—Samson’s cock already fever-hot before it even cleared the first knuckle, every ridge of vein and soft corded tissue rubbing against his insides and scraping every nerve raw.
Even as the ache threatened to break him, the slick coil of pleasure behind his balls went molten, the burn sweetened by the pressure grinding against something so deep it made his eyes water.
Samson was slow—God, so fucking slow—each forward roll burrowing another inch of monstrous thickness into Katt’s ass, the fat shaft flattening out his guts until he couldn’t breathe, the blunt head rutting up against a spot that made his vision stutter and fragment.
The burn at his rim was merciless, and every twitch of Samson’s hips sent shockwaves through his pelvis—tightening his balls, making his toes curl, his cock throbbing between slick, trembling thighs.
He squeezed the bedsheets in both fists and tried to breathe, but each inhale caught on a gasp or a desperate noise he barely recognized.
Each forward surge sent another ripple of burn through the ring of his ass, the pleasure and pain both so bright and immediate they made a mess of his thoughts.
The thickness filled him utterly, so that every small movement was a new world of sensation—the ripple of a vein catching against his rim, the lurch of the wide, heated head as it ground forward, the entire shaft stretching him in a way that was both overwhelming and so necessary he could have wept from the relief of it.
Katt’s head dropped back, his mouth open around a sound that barely made it to his own ears.
The air shuddered in his lungs, each exhale hot and tight.
His cock, still trapped in Samson’s fist, throbbed and leaked uselessly, already spent but desperate for something, anything, to answer the pressure mounting behind his balls.
Each breath drew the scent of sweat and lube and cum deep into his lungs, thick and musky, clinging to the back of his throat like a drug.
The air itself felt heavy, saturated with the heat of their bodies, the slick slide of skin on skin, the raw, animal musk of sex.
Katt’s nerves hummed, every inch of him hyperaware—of the way Samson’s cock stretched him open, the swollen head pressing against something deep inside that made his vision flicker, the way his own spent cum cooled in sticky trails across his stomach.
Then Samson moved.
The first thrust was slow, the fat shaft dragging against his inner walls, each ridge and vein scraping along nerves that sent sparks skittering up his spine.
Katt’s breath hitched as the man pulled back, the thick crown catching on his rim before slamming home again, deeper this time, the blunt head rutting against that spot that made his thighs tremble and his cock twitch despite being drained.
He could feel every inch—the way the shaft swelled as it buried itself to the hilt, the way the flared ridge of the crown stretched him wider with each roll of Samson’s hips, the way the man’s balls slapped against his ass with a wet, almost offensive sound.
Katt’s stomach hollowed out with each inward stroke, his abs clenching as Samson’s cock tunneled into him, the swollen head nudging against something so deep it made his toes curl.
He looked down, his vision swimming, and watched as his lower belly bulged slightly with each thrust, the outline of Samson’s cock pressing against his skin from the inside.
The sight was stunning, hypnotic—proof of how thoroughly he was being fucked, how completely he was being claimed—the way the thick shaft disappeared into him, only to reappear slick and glistening as Samson pulled back.
The stretch was unyielding, the burn a constant ache that blurred into pleasure, the pressure building behind his balls until he was sure he’d cum again just from the sheer fullness of it.
Samson’s hands gripped his hips, fingers digging into the muscle as he snapped his hips forward, each thrust harder than the last, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room.
Katt’s breath came in ragged gasps as the man’s cock pistoned in and out of him, the slick sound of lube and flesh filling the air, the heat of Samson’s body radiating against his own.
He could feel the man’s cock *twitch* inside him, the way the shaft pulsed with each thrust, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
His back bowed away from the bed of its own accord whenever Samson drove in, spine arching in a long, helpless curve, hips tilting up to meet each thrust as if his body had decided it knew better than he did.
The burn at his rim was still there—a raw, insistent ache that flared every time the thick shaft dragged back and then buried itself again—but it had changed, deepened into something that wound itself around the pleasure until the two were indistinguishable.
The twins had been right. God, they had been right.
Katt’s voice broke apart entirely as Samson found his rhythm, the sounds tearing out of him shapeless and raw.
Then Samson’s arms closed around him and hauled him upward, seating him fully in his lap, and Katt’s breath left him in a sharp, wrecked gasp as that impossible thickness drove home all over again, deeper than before, deep enough to feel it somewhere behind his navel.
Samson palmed his ass and began to move him. Katt grabbed for his shoulders and tried to meet it, tried to take some of it back for himself, but the stretch had him too undone, too split open to do much more than hold on while Samson worked him up and down the length of his cock.
“Uh-uh-uh-huuh!” Katt gasped out loudly each time Samson struck bottom.
He managed to curl his legs around the man’s waist and hold on as the giant drilled him.
He couldn’t imagine his hole ever shrinking back to normal after this, but right now, he didn’t care.
The pain had all but vanished, and he reveled in the feel of the humongous cock plowing into his stretched hole, the slippery wetness of the lube causing an echo of flesh colliding with flesh.
Then Samson flipped him, and the world tilted.
Katt found himself on his back, blinking up at the man looming over him—jaw clenched, face flushed dark, sweat dripping from his chin onto Katt’s chest. The new angle drove the blunt head of his cock into something that made Katt’s vision go white at the edges.
He could feel Samson’s thighs trembling against his own, the rhythm growing ragged and urgent.
Deep in his own gut, the pressure behind his balls had wound itself so tight it was almost unbearable.
“I’m gonna make you cum,” Samson panted, his face just inches above Katt’s. “And then I’m gonna cum.” His breath came hot and ragged against Katt’s mouth. “You want it inside you—or all over you?”
The thrusts were relentless, each one driving the thought clean out of Katt’s head before he could catch it. He got his mouth open twice before the word finally scraped out of him, wrecked and barely audible: “Both.”
Something shifted in Samson’s expression—a slow, quiet thing, almost private.
He straightened, drawing Katt’s hips up into his lap, and changed his angle.
Each thrust bottomed out in a methodical roll that found the same spot, again and again, with the patience of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
Katt’s eyes rolled back in his head as his body nearly levitated off the bed.
The pressure behind his balls finally crested and broke.
His whole body seized—thighs locking, stomach caving, breath punching out of him in a sound that wasn’t quite a word—and then his cock was pulsing untouched, the first rope of cum arcing up to his collarbone, the next striping across his ribs, the rest spilling in diminishing pulses down his stomach as his hips stuttered through it, chasing the last of it out of him.
Samson’s rhythm fractured, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as his thrusts turned erratic, each one deeper and more desperate than the last. His face twisted—jaw locked, lips peeled back over clenched teeth—as his body coiled tight, tendons standing out in his neck.
Then, with a guttural roar that vibrated through Katt’s bones, he buried himself to the hilt, hips jerking in violent spasms. A scalding flood erupted inside Katt, so thick and sudden it overflowed his stretched rim, spilling down his thighs in thick rivulets.
Samson’s cock pulsed again and again, each throb pumping more heat into him until it dripped from his ass in lazy, glistening strands.
Then Samson pulled out, his shaft still twitching and squirting cum from the flushed, swollen head.
He wrapped a massive hand around himself and stroked vigorously, veins bulging along his forearm as he aimed the last of his release at Katt’s body.
The first thick rope lashed across his collarbone, the next splattered his stomach in a warm, sticky arc.
Another landed on his throat, then his thighs, and finally—a hot, salty strand—across his parted lips.
Katt flicked his tongue without thought, catching the taste of him: musky, bitter, alive.
“Fuck—yes,” Samson growled, his grip tightening as he milked the last of his release onto Katt’s flushed skin.
His cock, though spent, still jutted heavy and thick between his thighs, the head flushed dark, the shaft veined and slick as he finally sank back onto his heels, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs as his massive chest rose and fell.
Katt lay fully wrecked and ruined on the bed before him, having never felt more alive than in this moment.
The cameras and crew were little more than a background blip as he gazed up at the colossal man who had just fucked him senseless—and understood more than ever why the twins adored him, maybe even worshipped him.
A smile formed on Katt’s flushed, glistening face, and his heavy-lidded eyes slid down from Samson’s face, too weak to even look up at the man. In his peripheral vision, hazy and distorted, something shifted. He turned his head on the pillow.
A shape in the doorway. Still as a statue. Watching him.
Katt blinked once, twice.
The shape sharpened… slowly, and then all at once.
Franco.