u/Spiritual_Camera9036

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 ‼️

Jack cursed under his breath as his beat-up old black sedan sputtered and died right there on the narrow two-lane road that cut through the dense woods. He was still a couple hours from home after visiting his grandparents, and the summer sun was beating down hard. He grabbed his phone, hoping for a signal. Nothing. No bars, just a useless brick in his hand.

"Shit," he muttered. The heat was brutal, so he had already stripped off his shirt and stood there topless in just his black shorts. Jack brushed his hand through his modern mullet as he stared at the engine, but he had no clue what he was looking at. A loose wire? A dead alternator? It all looked the same to him. His neat moustache felt damp with sweat in the warm air.

Headlights appeared in the distance. Jack's heart jumped. He stepped onto the road and waved his arms like an idiot. The car slowed, then pulled up beside his broken-down wreck. It was a shiny red convertible sports car, low and sleek. Jack's stomach dropped the second he saw the driver.

Tony stepped out of the driver's side, his blonde hair catching the sunlight with short sides and a bit more length on top. The tight white tank top hugged his muscular arms and chest as he walked over with that all-American smile.

"Need a hand, buddy?" Tony asked, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Car died. No signal out here."

Tony glanced at the open hood, then back at Jack. "Looks like you're in a tough spot. Hop in. I'll give you a lift. Can't leave a fellow football player stranded, right?"

Jack hesitated for a second, but the alternative was spending the afternoon stuck in the woods with a dead phone. He grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, locked his car, and slid into the soft leather of Tony's ride. The interior smelled expensive, like new car and cologne.

They drove in silence for the first few minutes. Then Tony started chatting, casual and easy, the way he always did. Eventually the conversation turned.

"So, you're out, right?" Tony asked, glancing over. "Like, openly gay and everything."

Jack felt the familiar annoyance rise. It happened all the time. Straight guys got curious once they knew he was gay, and the questions always came.

"Yeah," Jack said flatly.

Tony nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Cool, cool. So when you fuck guys, are you the girl or the guy?"

Jack stared at him. "It's gay sex, man. The whole point is there are no girls."

Tony laughed, loud and easy. "You know what I fucking mean, dude."

"That's not your business."

Tony laughed again, shaking his head. "That means you're the girl then."

The car fell into an awkward silence that stretched for five long minutes. Trees blurred past outside the windows.

Then Tony spoke again, quieter this time. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

Jack sighed, frustrated. "Dude, come on."

"I'm serious. Be honest."

Jack rubbed his temple. "Yeah, I guess you're pretty conventionally hot. Happy?"

Tony grinned, wide and satisfied, but said nothing more for a while.

A few minutes later, Tony slowed the car and turned off the main road onto a narrow dirt track surrounded by thick trees. The sports car bumped gently over the uneven ground until they were well hidden from the road.

Jack's pulse quickened. "What are you doing?"

Tony killed the engine and turned toward him, still smiling that confident, charming smile. "What do you think? I'm not taking you home for free."

He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans.

"Whoa, dude. What the fuck?" Jack said, eyes widening.

Tony leaned back in the driver's seat. "Come on, man. I really want to try it. Just once. And you're really hot. Please."

Before Jack could respond, Tony grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on the growing bulge in his jeans. It was big, hard, and radiating heat. Jack's hand stayed there a second too long before he yanked it back.

"No, dude. Not cool!"

But Tony was already pushing his jeans down to mid-thigh, then sliding his Calvin Klein boxers down with them. His cock sprang free, thick, eight inches, perfectly circumcised, and already fully hard. It looked every bit as impressive as the rest of Tony's all-American body.

Jack couldn't look away. Here was the rival quarterback, the cocky jock everyone wanted, sitting there with his big dick out, begging for it. Tony had been right in his guess earlier. Jack was a bottom through and through, and the sight hit him hard. The power imbalance, the secrecy, the raw need in Tony's eyes. It turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

"Alright," Jack said finally, voice a little rough. "But just in exchange for the lift. Nothing more."

Tony's grin returned, bright and victorious. "Yeah, of course. Just a thank you."

Jack stared at Tony's exposed cock for a long moment. The thick eight-inch shaft stood straight up from a neat patch of trimmed pubic hair. The smooth circumcised head was already glistening slightly at the tip. It was unmistakably the dick of a confident, well-built athlete, heavy, veined, and pulsing with need. Tony's muscular thighs flexed slightly as he shifted in the driver's seat, waiting.

Tony's smug grin softened into something hungrier. "Yeah. Just this."

Jack leaned across the center console, the leather creaking under his knees as he positioned himself. The sports car felt even smaller now, the windows fogging slightly from their breathing. He wrapped one hand around the base of Tony's cock, feeling the heat and the surprising weight of it. Tony let out a shaky breath the moment Jack's fingers closed around him.

Jack lowered his head, lips parting. He started slow, pressing a tentative kiss to the head, then dragging his tongue along the underside in one smooth lick. Tony's hips twitched.

"Fuck," Tony whispered. One hand came down to rest lightly on the back of Jack's head, not pushing, just resting there.

Jack opened wider and took the head into his mouth, sucking gently at first. The taste was clean, slightly salty, with the faint scent of Tony's cologne and fresh sweat. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive ridge, then sank lower, taking more of the thick shaft between his lips. Tony groaned, low and deep, his abs tightening visibly under his shirt.

Jack worked steadily, bobbing his head in a slow rhythm. He used his hand to stroke what his mouth couldn't reach, twisting slightly on the upstroke the way he knew felt good. Every time he took Tony deeper, the quarterback's breathing grew rougher. When Jack relaxed his throat and slid all the way down until his nose brushed against Tony's trimmed hair, Tony's fingers tightened in Jack's dark mullet.

"Shit, Jack, that feels so fucking good," Tony gasped. His usual cocky tone had cracked, replaced by raw need.

Jack pulled back for air, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening cock. He looked up at Tony's flushed face, the all-American jock staring down at him with wide, desperate eyes. Then Jack dove back down, sucking harder, hollowing his cheeks, letting wet, obscene sounds fill the small car.

Tony's free hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. His hips started to rock gently, meeting Jack's mouth on every downstroke. "Yeah, just like that. Don't stop."

Jack could feel Tony getting closer. The cock in his mouth throbbed harder, the muscles in Tony's thighs tensing. Jack doubled his efforts, stroking faster with his hand while his tongue worked the underside. Tony's moans grew louder, less controlled.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm close," Tony warned, voice strained.

Jack didn't pull away. He kept sucking, taking him deep, until Tony's whole body stiffened. With a choked groan, Tony came hard, pulsing thick ropes of cum straight into Jack's throat. Jack swallowed quickly, working him through it, milking every last drop while Tony shuddered and gasped above him.

When it was over, Tony slumped back against the seat, chest heaving, his spent cock slipping from Jack's lips with a soft, wet sound. A small trail of cum escaped the corner of Jack's mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, breathing hard, his own jeans uncomfortably tight.

Still buzzing with adrenaline and arousal, Jack sat up, leaned in, and tried to kiss Tony on the lips.

Tony jerked back instantly, pushing Jack's chest with both hands in a sudden, panicked shove. "Whoa, dude! What the fuck?" His voice was sharp, eyes wide with alarm. He quickly pulled his boxers and jeans back up, fumbling with the zipper.

Jack froze. The rejection hit like a slap. The air in the car turned heavy and awkward.

Tony started the engine without another word and pulled back onto the main road. They drove in silence for the next twenty minutes, the only sounds being the low hum of the sports car and the occasional shift of gears. Jack stared out the window at the darkening trees, cheeks still burning.

As they got closer to town and the first streetlights appeared, Tony finally spoke, his voice quieter and less confident than usual.

"Look, I think I'm gay," he said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Or at least, I'm pretty sure I am. But I'm not ready to come out. Not to my parents, not to the team, not to anyone. This stays between us, okay?"

Jack turned to look at him, the awkwardness easing a little. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, man. I get it. Your secret's safe with me. No one has to know."

Tony let out a long breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Thanks. I just needed to try it once. See if it was real. You're the only guy I could trust not to run your mouth."

Jack gave a small, reassuring smile. "It's cool. Take your time figuring it out. When you're ready, if you ever want to talk, I'm around. No pressure."

Tony glanced over, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint, grateful smile. The rest of the drive passed with a slightly lighter silence between them.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 ‼️

The university library was dead quiet on a Wednesday afternoon, Johny sat at a corner desk on the third floor, laptop open to a half-finished paper he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. His cock was rock-hard, straining against the front of his tight jeans. He kept glancing around, making sure no one was watching, then pulled out his phone and opened Grindr.

A new message popped up almost immediately from a blank profile, no name, no bio, just a location ping: basement toilets. The text was short and direct.

“DL trade in the end stall right now. Horny as fuck. Come get this dick if you’re a twink who can take it.”

Before Johny could type back, a picture loaded. It was a close-up of a thick, heavy cock hanging out of grey sweatpants. Seven inches long, veiny, and so girthy that Johny’s hole clenched just looking at it. The message continued: “It’s seven inches and thick. I’m horny and I want to fuck some twink ass right now. You coming or not?”

Johny’s pulse hammered. He typed back fast: “On my way.”

He shoved his laptop into his bag, took the stairs down two at a time, and slipped into the basement level. The toilets were old, tiled, and almost never used. The end cubicle door was cracked open. Johny pushed it shut behind him and locked it.

The guy from the picture was already waiting, exactly as described. Shirtless, gold chain resting against his smooth chest, grey sweatpants riding low on his hips so the waistband of blue-and-white plaid boxers peeked out. His stomach was thick and soft over a solid core, arms and shoulders pumped from the gym. He looked Johny up and down once, then jerked his chin.

Johny stepped closer, heart racing, and leaned in for a kiss.

The guy turned his face away and pushed a firm hand against Johny’s chest. “I don’t do that.”

He spun Johny around by the hips so he faced the tiled wall. Strong fingers hooked into the back of Johny’s jeans and yanked them down along with his briefs in one rough motion, exposing his smooth ass. The guy dropped to his knees, spread Johny’s cheeks wide, and buried his face between them.

His tongue was hot and wet, licking long stripes over Johny’s hole before pushing inside. He ate him like he was starving, sloppy and greedy, spit running down Johny’s thighs. He worked the tight ring with slow, deliberate circles, then dove deeper, fucking his tongue in and out in long, wet thrusts that made Johny’s legs shake. He sucked gently on the rim, then flattened his tongue and lapped broad and hungry, coating every inch with thick spit until the muscle relaxed and fluttered open. He kept going, relentless, pushing his face in harder, nose buried between the cheeks as he tongue-fucked the twink pussy with wet, obscene sounds, adding more spit with every sloppy pass until Johny was whimpering, pushing back onto that tongue.

The guy stood up, shoved his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It slapped heavy against Johny’s ass, already leaking. He hocked up two thick wads of spit, rubbed them over the fat head, and slicked the whole shaft until it glistened.

“Guide it,” he ordered, grabbing Johny’s wrist and forcing his hand back.

Johny wrapped shaking fingers around the thick base and lined the blunt head up with his hole. The guy pushed forward. The stretch was immediate and brutal. Johny gasped as the fat cock forced its way inside, inch after thick inch. It hurt. He bit his lip hard, trying not to cry out but couldn’t help it.

The guy didn’t wait. He grabbed Johny’s discarded T-shirt from the floor, balled it up, and shoved it into Johny’s mouth. “Shut up and take it.”

Then he started fucking. Long, deep strokes that slammed his thick stomach and heavy balls against Johny’s ass with every thrust. The slap of skin echoed off the cubicle walls. He used Johny’s hole like a pocket pussy, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, grinding his hips in circles, stretching him wide open.

Johny’s eyes watered. The gag muffled his moans as the guy picked up speed, pounding harder, using him. The thick cock dragged against his prostate on every stroke until the pain melted into overwhelming pleasure. Johny’s whimpers turned into needy, desperate sounds behind the fabric as his body started to push back, chasing every brutal thrust. The initial burn gave way to a deep, addictive fullness that made his own cock throb untouched against the tiled wall. He loved how the guy’s heavy balls slapped rhythmically against him, how that thick stomach pressed firm and warm against his lower back on every deep stroke, claiming him completely.

The guy’s low grunts mixed with the wet sounds of spit and precum.

“Fuck, that twink pussy is tight,” he growled, gripping Johny’s hips hard enough to leave marks. He slammed in deep one last time, balls pressed tight, and unloaded. Hot, thick ropes of cum flooded Johny’s insides as the guy bred him, hips twitching with every spurt until he was empty.

He pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from Johny’s wrecked hole. Then he tucked his spent cock back into his sweatpants, wiped his hands on the grey fabric, and looked Johny dead in the eye.

“Say thank you.”

Johny pulled the spit-soaked T-shirt from his mouth, voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

The guy nodded once, grabbed his own T-shirt off the hook, yanked the door open, and walked out without another word, leaving Johny standing there with his jeans around his ankles and cum running down his thighs. Johny stayed frozen for a long moment, heart still racing from the intense fuck. He reached back with one trembling hand to feel his sore, leaking hole, fingers sliding through the warm, thick cum starting to drip out. The stretched ring was tender and sensitive, throbbing with a deep, satisfying ache that sent sparks of lingering pleasure through his body. He savored the feeling of being so thoroughly used and bred, the evidence of the anonymous stud’s load still warm inside him. A soft, satisfied moan escaped his lips as he caught his breath, then he slowly pulled up his jeans and got dressed.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18‼️

Instead of lining up right away, Rhett’s mouth curved into a slow, mean grin.

“Nah,” he murmured, voice thick. “Not yet. You’re too fuckin’ tight and scared right now. Gonna split you open for real, but first…” He leaned down, brushing a thumb over Tommo’s spit-slick lower lip. “Gonna feed you my sword. Let you get a real taste of what’s about to wreck that virgin pussy. Fags love cum, don’t they? Bet you’ve been dreamin’ about this fat dick since the first time you stared at my bulge in the locker room.”

Tommo’s breath hitched, eyes flicking down to the soaked navy fabric, then back up, wide, hungry, terrified.

Rhett straightened slowly. He hooked his thumbs under the thin straps of his singlet and peeled them down his broad shoulders one at a time, making a show of it. The fabric dragged over his thick pecs, catching briefly on the hard points of his nipples before sliding lower. He rolled his hips once, teasing, watching Tommo’s gaze follow every inch like he was starving. The material peeled away from his abs, exposing the deep-cut V of his hips, the dark blond trail thickening as it arrowed down.

When the singlet finally cleared his groin, his cock sprang free, thick, veined, flushed an angry dark pink, the heavy shaft already glistening with pre-cum. A fat bead welled at the slit and flicked upward with the motion, arcing through the air to land in a warm, sticky rope across the front of Tommo’s red singlet, right over his trembling stomach.

Tommo whimpered at the sight, his own little cock giving a visible twitch under the stretched red lycra.

Rhett stepped forward, then dropped to his knees, straddling Tommo’s head so his thick thighs bracketed his ears. The musky heat of him rolled down, sweat, pre-cum, that same primal male scent that had Tommo grinding back earlier. Rhett gripped the base of his shaft, heavy and hot in his own hand, and dragged the blunt, mushroom head slowly across Tommo’s parted lips, smearing shiny pre-cum over them like gloss.

“Open up, princess,” Rhett ordered, voice low. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Tommo’s lips parted on a shaky exhale. Rhett didn’t rush. He fed the head in slow, inch by thick inch, watching Tommo’s eyes water as his jaw stretched wide around the girth. The taste hit immediately: salty, bitter-sweet pre-cum flooding his tongue, the heavy musk of skin and arousal filling his nose.

“Good girl,” Rhett growled. “Take more.”

He sank deeper, slow at first, letting Tommo adjust, then gripped the sides of his head with both big hands and started to thrust. Shallow at first, then longer, forcing more past the tight seal of his lips until the fat head nudged the back of Tommo’s throat.

Tommo gagged hard, wet, choking sounds bubbling up around the shaft. His throat convulsed, trying to push the intrusion out, but Rhett just held him there, hips rocking in shallow, insistent pumps.

“Fuck yeah,” Rhett panted, staring down at the mess he was making. “Look at you. Chokin’ on straight dick like a proper little cocksucker. Eyes waterin’, throat squeezin’ me so tight… bet that fag pussy’s clenchin’ too, huh?”

Tommo’s hands flew up to Rhett’s thighs, gripping, not pushing away, nails digging into the meat as he struggled to breathe around the thick length stuffing his mouth. Drool spilled from the corners of his lips, running down his chin in shiny strings. His little cock stayed painfully hard under the red singlet, the small wet spot at the tip growing, but the fabric was so tight and the angle so awkward that the outline was barely noticeable.

Rhett glanced down and laughed, low, mocking.

“Still rock-hard down there, huh? Pathetic. Can barely even see that tiny thing leakin’ while you’re gaggin’ on real cock.” He pulled back just enough to let Tommo suck in a ragged breath, then slammed forward again, deeper this time, forcing the head past the tight ring of his throat until his nose was buried in Rhett’s pubes.

Tommo retched, body jerking, tears spilling down his temples, but his hips rolled upward instinctively, humping the air like he couldn’t help it.

Rhett groaned, hips stuttering as the tight heat milked him.

“Fuck… that’s it. Milk me with that throat, princess. Gonna give you a taste of the real thing before I breed that hole.”

He fucked Tommo’s face harder now, short, brutal thrusts that made wet, obscene gluck-gluck sounds fill the basement. Tommo’s throat bulged visibly with every deep plunge, spit bubbling around the base, running in rivulets down his neck.

Rhett’s balls drew up tight, the pressure building fast.

“Gonna nut,” he growled. “Gonna feed you my load, every fuckin’ drop. Swallow it like a good girl.”

One last deep thrust, holding Tommo impaled, nose smashed against his groin, and Rhett came with a rough grunt. Thick ropes pulsed straight down Tommo’s throat, forcing him to gulp or choke. Some leaked out anyway, spilling from the corners of his mouth as Rhett ground through the aftershocks, milking himself on that spasming throat.

When he finally pulled out with a wet pop, a thick string of cum and spit connected the swollen head to Tommo’s gasping lips. Tommo coughed, wheezing, face flushed and messy, red, tear-streaked, shiny with spit and cum, but his eyes were glazed, pupils blown, little cock still throbbing untouched under the singlet.

Rhett hadn’t planned to cum from the blow job but the thrill of using his best friend, former best friend, like a pocket pussy had been too much. He’d never had sex this exhilarating but he had no doubt he could go again. Probably several more times. His cock didn’t even soften as he looked down at Tommo below him. He looked so pathetic; he loved it.

He glanced around the dim basement, eyes narrowing. Spit alone wasn’t going to cut it, not for what he was about to do to that tight little virgin hole. It wasn’t concern for the fag underneath him; Rhett didn’t give a shit if princess cried or screamed. No, this was about his own cock sliding in smooth and deep without too much resistance. He wanted to feel every flutter and clench, not fight a dry wall the whole time.

His gaze landed on the small shelf near the pull-up bar: a half-used bottle of massage oil, the kind his coach used to rub into his quads after brutal weigh-ins and comps. Unscented, slick, perfect. Rhett stood in one fluid motion, cock still jutting out obscenely from his half-lowered singlet, heavy and glistening with Tommo’s spit and the last traces of his own load. He didn’t bother tucking himself away, let the fag see it swinging as he crossed the mats.

He snatched the bottle, popped the cap with his thumb, and poured a thick stream straight into his palm. The oil was cool at first, then warmed fast against his skin. He stroked himself lazily once, twice, coating every thick inch from root to flared head, watching the way the slick made his shaft shine under the single bulb. Pre-cum beaded again at the slit almost immediately, mixing with the oil in glossy threads.

Tommo lay there panting, legs still shoved back toward his chest, red singlet torn open at the ass, that puffy pink ring twitching in the cool air. His own little dick strained uselessly against the front of the fabric, a modest wet spot darkening the crotch. He started to move, hands fumbling toward the straps over his shoulders, trying to peel the torn singlet down so he could at least free his aching cock.

Rhett’s hand shot out like a whip, clamping around Tommo’s wrist hard enough to make him yelp.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it, princess.”

Tommo froze, eyes wide.

“I, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong.” Rhett’s voice was low, final. He leaned over him, free hand pressing down on Tommo’s chest to pin him flat again. “I don’t wanna see that pathetic little clit of yours. Three inches hard? Maybe? That’s not a dick, fag. That’s proof you were born to be a bitch. Born to be a hole. My hole. So keep that singlet on. Keep that tiny thing trapped and leaking where it belongs, out of sight, useless, forgotten.”

Tommo’s face burned crimson. He swallowed hard, nodding once, wrists going limp under Rhett’s grip. The words hit like slaps, but his cock gave another helpless twitch under the lycra anyway, betraying him completely.

Rhett smirked, satisfied. “Good girl.”

He released the wrist and dropped back between Tommo’s spread thighs. To get his own blood pumping again, to make sure he was rock-hard and dripping for the main event, he dove right back in.

Big hands clamped around the backs of those trembling knees and shoved them wider, folding the smaller body in half until Tommo’s ass lifted off the mat. Rhett buried his face without hesitation, nose pressed deep into the cleft, inhaling that rich, musky-sweet flood one more time. Fuck, it was stronger now, headier after the rimming, after the throat-fucking, after the first taste of cum sliding down that greedy gullet. The scent punched straight to his balls: warm skin, clean sweat, that impossible honeyed slick leaking steadily from the fluttering pucker.

He growled against the sensitive rim, the vibration making Tommo jerk and whimper.

“Still leakin’ like a bitch in heat,” Rhett muttered, tongue already flattening for one long, filthy drag from taint to tailbone. He speared inside again, stiff, insistent, fucking the hole with wet, swirling thrusts while his thumbs held those fat cheeks pried apart. Every time the muscle clenched and tried to suck his tongue deeper, more of that sweet slick coated his lips, his chin, dripping down his neck in warm rivulets.

Tommo sobbed, high, broken sounds, hips rocking back despite himself, chasing the thick muscle like it was already cock. His little clit throbbed untouched under the singlet, smearing more pre-cum into the stretched red fabric, but Rhett didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t even glance at the pathetic bulge. It didn’t exist to him anymore.

Rhett pulled back with a wet smack, lips shiny, face flushed all over again. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the mess, then poured another generous palmful of oil straight onto Tommo’s exposed hole, watching it run in thick, glossy trails over the puffy rim, pooling at the entrance before trickling down toward his balls.

He worked two thick fingers in without warning, scissoring rough and deep, spreading the oil and the natural slick until the hole gaped slightly on every withdrawal, pink and glossy and obscenely ready.

“Fuck, look at that,” Rhett rasped, voice thick with hunger. “Already suckin’ at my fingers like it knows what’s comin’. This ain’t a boy’s ass anymore, princess. This is pussy now. My pussy. Gonna stretch it wide and make it remember the shape of my cock.”

Tommo could only whimper, thighs shaking violently, hole clenching and fluttering around the invading digits.

Rhett withdrew his fingers with a filthy squelch, stroked his oiled length one last time, base to tip, making sure every veined inch gleamed, then shifted forward on his knees. He hooked Tommo’s legs over his broad shoulders, folding the smaller body even tighter, ass lifted and presented like an offering.

The blunt, oil-slick head of his cock nudged right up against that twitching, dripping entrance, hot, heavy, insistent. He rocked once, just enough to let the flared crown kiss the rim, watching it flutter and try to open for him.

“Take a breath, hole,” Rhett murmured, eyes locked on the point where their bodies would soon join. “Gonna give this new pussy what it’s been beggin’ for.”

He pressed forward, just the tip breaching, stretching that first tight ring, and held there, savoring the way the fag’s whole body trembled around the promise of being split open.

Rhett held there for a long beat, only the thick, oil-slick head breaching that first tight ring, letting Tommo feel the stretch, the burn, the impossible girth already forcing him open. Tommo’s breath came in shallow, ragged hitches; his eyes were wide and glassy, tears already gathering at the corners. His hole spasmed around the intrusion, trying to push the invader out and pull it deeper at the same time.

“Easy, princess,” Rhett murmured, voice low and almost gentle, for him. One big hand slid up to cup the side of Tommo’s face, thumb brushing away a tear that slipped free. “Breathe through it. I’m bein’ nice right now. Givin’ you time to adjust to your new pussy gettin’ its first real dick.”

Tommo nodded frantically, lips parted on silent whimpers. He forced himself to exhale slow, trembling, trying to relax the iron grip of his rim. Rhett waited, surprising even himself, until the frantic clenching eased just a fraction. Then he pushed forward another careful inch.

The burn sharpened into white-hot fire. Tommo’s back bowed off the mat, a choked sob tearing out of him. His hands flew to Rhett’s forearms, nails digging crescents into the thick muscle, but he didn’t push away. Couldn’t. There was nowhere to go.

“Fuck, fuck, it hurts,” Tommo gasped, voice cracking. “It’s too much.”

“Shh. You can take it, hole.” Rhett’s other hand stroked down Tommo’s thigh, almost soothing, keeping the leg hooked over his shoulder. “Look at me. Eyes on me while I open you up slow. This is kindness, fag. I could’ve just rammed it in balls-deep and let you scream. But you’re my girl now. I want you feelin’ every inch.”

Another slow, relentless push. Halfway in now. Tommo’s hole stretched wide around the thick shaft, the pink rim pulled thin and shiny with oil and slick. The pressure was brutal, full, splitting, like he was being remade from the inside. Tears spilled freely down his temples, but his little cock stayed traitorously hard under the torn red singlet, leaking a steady stream that soaked the fabric dark.

Rhett groaned at the vise-tight heat, hips rocking in tiny, shallow thrusts, barely an inch in and out, easing Tommo open bit by bit. “That’s it… good girl… lettin’ me in. Fuck, you’re grippin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

Minutes passed like that, slow, deliberate slides, deeper each time, Rhett watching Tommo’s face the whole while. Every whimper, every shudder, every fresh tear fed the dark heat coiling in his gut. When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against Tommo’s ass, heavy balls resting against the cleft, both of them shuddered.

Tommo let out a broken, shaky moan. The pain still throbbed, raw and deep, but underneath it something else was starting to bloom: pressure against his prostate, a dull, aching fullness that made his toes curl.

Rhett exhaled hard through his nose. “There we go. All the way in. Feel that, princess? That’s your new pussy takin’ its first load of straight cock. No turnin’ back now.”

He stayed buried for another long moment, letting Tommo adjust to the sheer size splitting him. Then, slowly, he pulled back almost to the tip, the drag obscene and wet, before sliding back in with the same measured depth.

Again. And again.

The rhythm built gradually. Long, full strokes at first, pulling out until just the head remained, then sinking back to the root in one smooth glide. Each withdrawal left Tommo’s hole gaping slightly before clenching hungrily on the re-entry. The pain didn’t vanish, but it started to blur at the edges, melting into something hotter, needier. Tommo’s sobs turned to ragged gasps; his hips began to rock back, tiny, helpless motions he couldn’t stop.

Rhett felt the shift. Felt the way the fag’s body started to welcome him instead of fighting.

“That’s my girl,” he growled, picking up speed. “Startin’ to like it now, huh? Hole knows its place.”

The strokes lengthened, harder, deeper, until every thrust punched a wet slap of skin on skin. Rhett’s hands clamped around Tommo’s waist, yanking him back to meet each drive. The mat squeaked under them. Tommo’s legs shook violently over Rhett’s shoulders; his untouched cock bounced with every brutal plunge, smearing pre-cum in shiny streaks across the red lycra and his own abs.

“Fuck, yes, harder,” Tommo choked out, voice hoarse.

Rhett laughed, dark, triumphant. He folded Tommo in half tighter, knees practically to his ears, and started long-dicking him in earnest: pulling out to the crown, then slamming home so deep his balls slapped against Tommo’s ass with every stroke. The angle hammered Tommo’s prostate relentlessly, sharp bursts of white-hot pleasure that made his vision blur and his hole flutter wildly around the invading cock.

He was close. So fucking close. Thighs trembling, breath coming in sobs, little dick throbbing painfully, but Rhett never touched it. Never even glanced at the pathetic, leaking thing trapped under the singlet.

Without warning, Rhett pulled out completely, leaving Tommo’s hole gaping, slick and stretched, clenching around nothing. Before Tommo could whine at the emptiness, Rhett flipped him in one brutal motion.

Face-down. Ass-up. Legs shoved apart.

Rhett dropped full weight on top of him, broad chest sealing to Tommo’s back, thick thighs bracketing his hips, one massive arm hooking around Tommo’s throat in a loose choke-hold while the other braced beside his head. The sheer size difference crushed him into the mat; Tommo couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t do anything but feel Rhett everywhere, hot skin, heavy muscle, the musky scent of sweat and sex flooding his nose.

Rhett lined up again and slammed back inside in one vicious thrust.

Tommo cried out, muffled into the mat, body jolting forward under the impact. Rhett didn’t give him time to adjust this time. He started pounding, short, brutal jabs at first, then long, punishing strokes that rocked Tommo’s whole frame. Every drive forced the breath from his lungs in sharp grunts; the wet slap-slap-slap of hips on ass filled the basement.

“Feel that, hole?” Rhett growled against his ear, voice gravel-rough. “This is where you belong. Under me. Full of me. Just a warm cunt for straight dick to use.”

Tommo’s face pressed into the foam, tears and drool soaking the mat. The pain still flared with every deep plunge, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming rightness of it, the crushing weight pinning him, the thick cock owning him, the knowledge that he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to.

This was it.

This was where he was meant to be.

Just a hole.

Rhett’s rhythm turned feral, hips snapping forward, grinding deep, chasing his own release. His arm tightened around Tommo’s throat just enough to make stars burst behind his eyes.

“Gonna nut,” Rhett snarled. “Gonna fill this fag pussy up.”

“Inside, please, please.”

Rhett slammed in balls-deep one final time and came with a guttural groan. Hot, thick pulses flooded Tommo’s guts, rope after rope, until it felt like he was overflowing. Rhett kept grinding through it, lazy, possessive rolls of his hips, milking every drop into the spasming heat while Tommo whimpered and trembled underneath him.

Rhett stayed buried balls-deep for what felt like forever, hips flush against Tommo’s ass, thick shaft still twitching with the last weak pulses of his release. His chest heaved against the smaller body beneath him, hot, heavy breaths fanning over the nape of Tommo’s neck. Sweat slicked their skin where they touched; the basement air felt thick and close now, reeking of sex and oil and that lingering sweet-musk scent that had started all this.

Exhaustion hit him like a truck. The adrenaline of the hunt, the pounding, the claiming, it drained out of him in a slow rush, leaving his limbs heavy and his mind foggy. He didn’t want to move yet. Didn’t want to break the seal. But his cock was softening inside the abused heat, the urgent throb fading to a dull, satisfied ache.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he began to pull out.

The drag was obscene: wet, sluggish, every inch sliding free with a filthy squelch. Tommo whimpered softly into the mat as the thick shaft withdrew, the sudden emptiness making his hole clench uselessly around nothing. When the flared head finally popped free, a thick gush of Rhett’s cum followed, hot, white, leaking in slow, viscous ropes down the cleft and pooling on the blue foam beneath them.

Rhett sat back on his heels and looked.

Jesus.

The tight, blushing pink pucker he’d buried his face in an hour ago, the one that had fluttered and winked at his tongue like it was begging, was gone. In its place gaped a swollen, abused mess: red-rimmed, puffy, the rim bloated and shiny from use. The hole itself stayed open, slack, unresisting, maybe the size of a quarter now, dark inside where it should have snapped shut. More cum bubbled out with every weak flutter, dribbling down toward Tommo’s balls in thin, glistening trails. It looked exactly like the well-fucked pussies Rhett had railed in the past: stretched, sloppy, marked. Used.

Better, even. Those girls had usually tapped out or whined for mercy halfway through. This hole had taken every brutal inch, milked him through the orgasm, and still twitched like it wanted more.

Yeah. He could get used to having this on tap. No drama, no expectations, just a warm, eager cunt whenever he needed to blow off steam. His new personal fucktoy.

Rhett exhaled through his nose, a low, satisfied sound. He pushed himself up off the mat, thighs flexing, cock hanging heavy and glistening between his legs, softening but still impressive, smeared with oil, cum, and traces of Tommo’s slick. He didn’t bother tucking it away yet.

Behind him, Tommo rolled slowly onto his back with a soft groan. Legs splayed, red singlet still bunched around his thighs and torn open at the ass, the front dark and soaked from his own untouched leaking. His face was flushed, tear-streaked, lips swollen from the earlier throat-fucking. Those wide eyes looked up at Rhett, dazed, submissive, maybe a little hopeful.

Rhett stared down.

A cold mix of contempt and disgust curled in his gut.

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t wrap his head around how a guy, supposedly his best friend, had just let himself be turned into this. Bent in half, face-fucked, ass reamed raw, cum dumped inside him like he was nothing but a sleeve. And he’d begged for it. Moaned like a bitch the whole time. Where the fuck did that leave them? Were they even friends anymore? Or was Tommo just… this now? A hole with a name attached?

Rhett’s lip curled. He turned away without a word, walked the few steps to the nearby storage unit, and yanked out a clean towel from the stack his dad kept for post-workout wipe-downs. He balled it up and tossed it at Tommo’s chest, hard enough that it landed with a soft thump.

“Clean yourself up,” he said flatly. Voice rough, tired, final. “I’m going to bed.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t look back to see if Tommo caught the towel or if he just lay there leaking and staring at the ceiling. Rhett tugged his singlet straps back up over his shoulders, fabric clinging uncomfortably to sweat-damp skin, and headed for the stairs without another glance.

Tommo stayed on the mat a long time after the door at the top clicked shut, towel clutched in one trembling hand, cum still slowly seeping out of his stretched hole, little cock finally softening under the soaked red lycra. The ache throbbed deep inside him, sharp and dull all at once. He reached down and ran his fingers over his hole, and two easily slipped inside. He really was gaping open. His fingers traced the slick wetness leaking out of him and he whimpered at the tenderness. His clit, which was the name that ran through his head at that moment, twitched. A stark reminder that he had not cum. Yet beneath the tenderness, the feeling of shame, something else settled: quiet, certain acceptance.

He was exactly what Rhett said he was.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18‼️

The basement smelled faintly of rubber mats, old sweat, and the lingering sweet-skunk haze of the joint they’d passed back and forth on the walk home from Jace’s party. Both of them were still floating, giggly, loose-limbed, pupils wide. The party had been loud and crowded and ultimately boring; too many guys posturing, too few girls who were actually interested. That was the problem with going to an all-boys school, I guess. So Rhett had nudged Tommo with an elbow, muttered “fuck this, let’s bounce,” and they’d slipped out into the cool March night.

Now they were here, in the half-finished rec room Rhett’s dad had turned into a makeshift wrestling gym years ago: thick blue mats covering most of the concrete floor, a padded headboard against one wall, a pull-up bar, a couple of kettlebells gathering dust. The single bulb overhead cast long shadows.

Rhett peeled off his hoodie and T-shirt in one careless motion, then shoved his jeans and boxers down without ceremony. Tommo pretended to be busy unlacing his sneakers, but his eyes tracked every inch of skin that came into view. Rhett was six-one, broad through the shoulders and chest, legs like tree trunks from years of heavyweight training. A faint happy trail ran down the center of his stomach and disappeared into dark blond pubes. His cock hung heavy even soft, thick, cut. It made Tommo’s mouth go dry just looking at it.

Rhett stepped into his navy singlet, the kind with the high-cut legs and thin straps. The fabric stretched tight across his pecs, hugged the meat of his thighs, and did nothing to hide the fat outline of his dick once it started to thicken from the friction. He snapped the straps against his shoulders and grinned.

“Your turn, princess. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Tommo swallowed and then turned his back to change, heart hammering. His own body felt smaller next to Rhett’s: lean, toned, but nowhere near as massive. His ass was the standout feature, round and muscular, the kind that strained every pair of shorts he owned. The red singlet clung to it like paint, accentuating the fat curve when he bent to pull it up.

Rhett’s eyes flicked down immediately. “Jesus, Tommo. That ass is obscene in that thing. You have really been hitting the gym and it’s starting to show. I’d best up my own squat routine.”

Tommo flushed but didn’t argue. They circled slowly on the mats, bare feet gripping the blue foam. Tommo darted left, feinting, trying to use his speed to slip behind Rhett’s guard. Rhett pivoted heavily, arms loose but ready, letting his weight anchor him. Tommo shot in low for a single-leg, hands clamping Rhett’s thick thigh, but Rhett sprawled hard, dropping his hips and smothering the attempt with sheer mass. Tommo scrambled, twisting under the pressure, popping back to his feet with a quick breath.

Rhett grinned, breathing steady. “Gotta be faster than that, lightweight.”

Tommo lunged again, going high this time, arms wrapping around Rhett’s waist in a tight clinch. Their chests collided, singlets sliding over sweat-slick skin. Rhett’s arms locked around him like steel bands, squeezing once, testing, then lifting Tommo clean off the mat for a heartbeat before slamming him back down. Tommo rolled clear and jumped back up before he could pin him.

Tommo huffed, hooked a leg behind Rhett’s knee, straining to off-balance the bigger boy. They staggered together, locked chest-to-chest, hips grinding unintentionally as they wrestled for control. Rhett’s cock, already stirring from the constant friction, thickened noticeably against Tommo’s stomach through the thin lycra, hot and insistent.

Tommo’s pulse roared in his ears. Every press of Rhett’s body sent heat pooling low in his gut. He twisted harder, desperate to break free before the contact unraveled him completely.

Rhett now shot in fast, hooked an arm around Tommo’s waist, drove him down belly-first. The heavyweight pinned him easily, chest to back, hips slotting right against Tommo’s ass. The singlet did nothing to hide how quickly Rhett was thickening, the fat length pressing along the cleft.

Tommo couldn’t help it. He arched, slow and deliberate, grinding back. Once. Twice. A needy roll of his hips dragged his cheeks along Rhett’s growing cock. The friction sent sparks up his spine; he bit his lip to stifle a moan, but his body betrayed him again with another slow, shameless push backward, pressing the fat curve of his ass firmer against the thickening bulge. Heat bloomed low in his belly as Rhett’s length hardened fully, hot and insistent through the thin lycra, nestling deeper into the cleft with every subtle grind. Tommo’s breath hitched, thighs trembling; he rocked once more, longer this time, chasing the delicious pressure against his hole.

Rhett let out a rough laugh against his ear. “You’re humping me like a little bitch, bro.”

Tommo’s face burned into the mat. “Sorry… fuck…”

Rhett paused for a beat, still heavy on top of him, hips flush against Tommo’s ass. The contact felt strange, good, yeah, the friction waking his cock up a little, but weird too. This was Tommo. His best friend. A guy. Rhett’s brain short-circuited for a second, caught between the warm pressure and the fact that it shouldn’t feel this good.

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine bro,” he muttered finally, voice rougher than he meant. “Just… chill for a sec.”

He rolled off, shoving Tommo’s shoulder playfully to cover the awkwardness. “Get up. We’re not done yet.”

Tommo scrambled to his feet, cheeks still flaming, singlet tented modestly by his small dick. They circled again, slower this time. Rhett shot in low, but Tommo was quicker, slipped the takedown, hooked an arm around Rhett’s neck, and twisted. For a split second Rhett lost his balance. He hit the mat on his back with a grunt, Tommo tumbling after him.

Tommo landed straddling Rhett’s chest, then slid forward in the scramble, his thick, round ass hovering right over Rhett’s face for one long, frozen moment. The red singlet stretched tight across those fat glutes, the fabric so thin Rhett could see the dimples at the base of Tommo’s spine, the way the material dug into the cleft and outlined every curve. Jesus. It looked obscene. Hot. Way hotter than it had any right to.

Then the scent hit him, warm, musky, a little salty-sweet from sweat and skin and something unmistakably Tommo. It rolled down over Rhett’s nose and mouth like a drug, raw in the best way, and his cock gave a hard, involuntary twitch against the inside of his singlet.

Before he could process it, he bucked his hips, bridged, and flipped them. Tommo landed belly-down again with a soft oof. Rhett dropped full weight this time, chest sealing to back, thighs bracketing Tommo’s hips. And now, fuck, Rhett was hard. Not half-mast anymore. Thick, swollen, nearly full mast, the fat length digging straight into the cleft of Tommo’s ass through their singlets.

Tommo’s brain short-circuited on a single, panicked loop, bad idea bad idea bad fucking idea, but the message never made it below his waist. His breath hitched, ragged. Then his spine curved, slow and deliberate, ass pushing back like it had a mind of its own, chasing the blunt head that kept nudging against him.

His hole fluttered, empty and desperate, slick and stupidly eager for dick despite every alarm bell ringing in his skull.

He hated how much he wanted it.

He rolled his hips again anyway.

Rhett’s hips jerked forward on instinct, matching the roll. Once. Twice. The friction was electric now, undeniable.

Tommo moaned, soft, needy, barely audible.

Rhett huffed a rough laugh against his ear, voice low and gravelly. “Fuck, you’re at it again, humping me. I knew you were a fag, but I didn’t know you were such a slut for dick, princess.”

He flipped Tommo onto his back in one brutal motion, knees pinning his thighs apart, hands braced beside his head. Rhett’s gaze dropped straight to the front of the red singlet: Tommo’s little cock straining hard, the head outlined, a dark wet spot spreading at the tip.

Rhett stared. Then his eyes lifted, dark and blown. “You’re leaking for me already.”

Tommo could only nod, throat tight.

Rhett exhaled hard through his nose. “Fuck it. No girls around, no point pretending. You’ve been begging for this with those looks for months.”

Rhett didn’t bother asking. He just ground down harder, thick cock still trapped in his singlet, dragging the rigid length back and forth along the cleft of Tommo’s bare ass. Slow rolls at first, then faster, possessive, the friction making them both hiss. Tommo’s singlet with his straps over his shoulders couldn’t just be pulled down easily so Rhett changed tactics. He hooked both hands into the fabric right over those pale cheeks, dug his fingers in deep, and ripped.

The material gave with a loud, satisfying tear. A jagged hole opened up, big enough to bare everything: firm, untouched ass, the smooth pale skin flushed pink from the rough handling, and right in the center, the tight, hairless pucker that made Rhett’s breath catch even though he’d never once considered himself anything but straight.

Fuck.

It was perfect. Small, pink, already fluttering like it knew what was coming. The sight of another boy folded and helpless underneath him, legs shoved back toward his chest, singlet shredded, hole on full display, sent a dark, electric rush straight to Rhett’s dick. Power like this didn’t come with girls. This was different. Primal. Dirty in a way that made his pulse hammer.

He didn’t wait for permission or pretty words. He spat once, thick and wet, right onto that twitching hole, watched it clench at the sudden slick heat. Then his thumb was there, smearing the spit in wide, messy circles before pressing inside. One thick finger. Then two. No easing in, no gentle stretch, just rough, impatient scissoring, knuckles bumping against soft rim as he forced Tommo open.

Tommo gasped, sharp and broken, spine bowing off the mat. His hole spasmed around the intrusion, greedy despite the sting. Rhett didn’t slow down. Didn’t soften his grip on those shoved-back thighs. He just watched, mesmerized, half-dazed, how that perfect little ring stretched and fluttered around his fingers, already slicker, already begging even if Tommo’s mouth hadn’t caught up yet.

Rhett’s breath hitched; he had caught a waft of Tommo’s ass again. A rich, musky wave rolled up from between Tommo’s cheeks, thicker now, headier, like the air itself had turned syrupy and sexual. It punched straight into his brain stem. Same scent that had made his cock twitch earlier when he’d only caught the faintest trace, but this was the full flood: warm skin, clean sweat, something primal and sweet underneath, like ripe fruit. Pheromones. Tommo’s body was answering without permission, slicking itself up, begging in the oldest language there is.

Rhett groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Tommo’s lower back. His fingers were still buried deep, three of them now, thick and relentless, and every time Tommo’s hole clenched down, like it was trying to pull them in permanently, another pulse of that scent bloomed into the room.

“Fuck… you smell so goddamn good,” Rhett rasped, voice thick. He didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until Tommo whimpered and arched harder, presenting himself like an offering.

Rhett’s control snapped like dry kindling.

He yanked his fingers free with a wet sound that made them both shudder, then dropped to his knees so fast the mat burned his skin. Big hands clamped around the meat of Tommo’s thighs, spreading him wider, opening that flushed, glistening pink pucker to the cool air and to Rhett’s hungry stare.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t play coy. He just buried his nose right into the cleft, right against the tight little star, and inhaled like a man who’d been starving. The smell hit him full force, hot, earthy, sweet, and his cock jerked hard enough in his singlet to hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against the sensitive skin. “This is fuckin’ perfect.”

Then his tongue followed.

Flat and broad at first, one long, slow drag from taint to tailbone that made Tommo’s whole body jerk like he’d been electrocuted. Rhett growled in approval at the taste, clean salt, that same honeyed sweetness he’d smelled, and underneath it all the unmistakable slip of natural slick starting to seep out of Tommo’s hole.

“You’re gettin’ wet for me,” Rhett said, voice thick and reverent. He licked again, slower this time, circling the rim with the tip of his tongue until the muscle fluttered and tried to suck him in. “Taste like fuckin’ honey, man. Sweet little hole just leakin’ for my tongue.”

Tommo made a broken, desperate noise, hips rocking back instinctively, chasing more. Rhett gave it to him, speared his tongue inside, stiff and insistent, fucking him with it the same way his fingers had been doing moments ago. The walls clamped down immediately, greedy, pulsing, trying to keep him there.

Rhett pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny, chin wet.

“Look at you. So tight and so hungry. Suckin’ on my tongue like it’s a cock. You want it deeper, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just dove back in, nose pressed hard against Tommo’s perineum, tongue working in filthy, swirling strokes while his thumbs held those cheeks spread obscenely wide.

Every time Tommo clenched, more of that slick leaked out, coating Rhett’s lips, dripping down his chin. He lapped it up like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Perfect,” he mumbled between licks, half to Tommo, half to himself. “This hole’s fuckin’ perfect. Gonna eat it till you cry, till you can’t even think straight. You’re mine right now, Tommo. This sweet little pussy’s all fuckin’ mine.”

Tommo’s thighs were shaking violently now, toes curling, voice gone to nothing but little sobs and pleas that didn’t even form real words.

Rhett just kept going, deeper, slower, hungrier, lost in the taste, the smell, the way that perfect pink ring kept opening and closing around his tongue like it was trying to pull him inside forever.

Rhett finally pulled back with a filthy, wet pop, lips swollen and gleaming, chin and cheeks smeared with a glossy mix of his spit and the slick that had been steadily leaking from Tommo’s hole. He looked spent, eyes dark and glassy, hair mussed from desperate fingers, face shining like he’d just drowned in the best thing he’d ever tasted. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, spreading the mess further, and let out a low, guttural sound of pure satisfaction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasped, staring down at the flushed, puffy pink ring he’d just feasted on. It twitched under his gaze, still trying to clench around nothing, slick trailing down toward Tommo’s balls in thin, glistening threads. “You’re so goddamn wet, princess. Drippin’ like you’re in heat. Taste like honey.”

His cock was throbbing, leaking, still trapped in the stretched fabric of his singlet, the dark material soaked at the tip and clinging to every thick ridge of him. The head was obscenely outlined, flared and insistent, pushing so hard it looked ready to tear through. He gave it one rough, squeezing stroke through the singlet and hissed at the ache.

Tommo was shaking, legs still pressed back, chest heaving. Rhett took a moment to catch his breath and to look at his best friend’s flushed face and the look of utter pleasure across his soft features.

Admiring his own impact on Tommo, Rhett settled between his legs, looming over him, big hands braced on either side of Tommo’s head. He leaned down until their faces were inches apart, letting Tommo feel the wet heat of his breath and the sticky drag of his soaked singlet against Tommo’s inner thigh.

“Time to get fucked, girl,” Rhett murmured, voice low and thick with promise.

Tommo’s eyes snapped wide, pupils blown with sudden terror. He sucked in a sharp breath, hands flying to Rhett’s shoulders like he could push him away, or pull him closer, he wasn’t even sure anymore.

“W-wait, Rhett, hold on, fuck, no,” his voice cracked, thin and trembling. “I, I’ve never… I haven’t even seen it properly hard before, not, not like that.”

His gaze dropped between them, locking on the brutal bulge still straining the singlet. Even confined, it looked monstrous, long, impossibly thick, the flared head pushing so aggressively against the fabric that the wet spot had spread into a dark, clinging patch outlining every vein. Tommo’s hole gave a helpless, involuntary flutter at the sight, but his face crumpled with real panic.

“That’s… that’s gonna fuckin’ split me open,” he whispered, voice shaking so bad it barely came out. “I’m, I’m a virgin back there, Rhett. Never even had fingers till tonight. That thing’s too big. It’s gonna rip me, I can’t.”

Rhett’s hand slid up to cup the side of Tommo’s face, thumb brushing over his trembling lower lip. He didn’t crowd him, didn’t force, just held him there, steady and warm, while his other hand drifted down to circle that slick, puffy rim with the lightest touch.

“I know it’s big,” Rhett said softly, voice rough but gentle. “I know you’re scared shitless right now. But look at me.” He waited until Tommo’s wide, glassy eyes flicked back up to his. “This little hole’s still leakin’ for me. Still twitchin’ like it wants more even though your brain’s screamin’ no. You’re terrified, yeah. But you’re also so ready you’re cryin’ slick down your crack.”

Tommo whimpered, hips jerking despite himself when Rhett’s thumb pressed just inside the rim, slow, careful, barely breaching.

“I’ll go slow,” Rhett promised, leaning down to brush a kiss against Tommo’s forehead, then his temple, then the corner of his mouth. “But I’m not stoppin’ till I’m buried to the balls in this perfect virgin pussy, Tommo. You feel how hard I am? How much I’m leakin’ just thinkin’ about it?” He rocked forward, letting the soaked bulge drag heavily along Tommo’s cleft, smearing pre-cum and spit across that sensitive skin.

“Gonna make you take every inch. Gonna fill you so good you’ll feel me for days. Gonna make this tight little hole remember who it belongs to.”

Tommo’s protest melted into a broken, shuddering moan. His hands clutched at Rhett’s shoulders, nails digging in, not pushing away anymore, just holding on.

“Fuck,” he choked out, voice cracking. “I’m, I’m so fuckin’ scared, man. Just… please don’t hurt me.”

Rhett grinned against his neck, feral, tender, possessive.

“That’s my good girl.” He kissed him slow and deep this time, tongue sliding in like he was already fucking him there. Then he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Now keep those legs up for me. Show me that pretty hole again. We’re gonna take our time… but I’m gettin’ inside you tonight.”

“I just need you to relax for me. Remember you wanted my dick bad enough to grind on it earlier.”

His cock was throbbing, leaking, still trapped in the stretched fabric of his singlet, the dark material soaked at the tip and clinging to every thick ridge of him. The head was obscenely outlined, flared and insistent, pushing so hard it looked ready to tear through. He gave it one rough, squeezing stroke through the singlet and hissed at the ache.

Tommo was shaking, legs still pressed back, chest heaving. Rhett took a moment to catch his breath, admiring his best friend’s flushed face, the glassy look of utter submission in his eyes.

‼️Everyone in this story is over the age of 18 and a consenting adult ‼️

Ryder pushed open the apartment door, carrying the full weight of his long construction shift with him. Sweat soaked through his tank top, clinging to his broad, muscular chest. His thick arms and neck were streaked with dust and grime, and that deep, masculine scent of hard work clung to every inch of his big body. At 6'3" and built solid from years of heavy labor, he filled the space with raw presence as he kicked off his boots.

He stepped into the bedroom and stopped, heat flooding straight to his cock at the sight waiting for him.

Miles was on the bed, ass up, head down, back arched in a smooth, inviting curve. The smaller twunk's lean, smooth body looked perfect in the soft light, his perky ass framed by a black jockstrap. His hole was still puffy and soft, the rim slightly swollen and glistening with lube, visibly eager and ready.

A quiet, affectionate growl left Ryder's throat. "Miles... fuck, baby."

Miles let out a soft, happy sound, pushing his ass up a little higher. "Wanted to surprise you. You've been on my mind all day. I got so turned on thinking about you coming home that I needed to show you."

This had been happening for the last few days. Every so often Miles would slip into these intense stretches of heat where he simply could not get enough of his man. In the past couple of days alone Ryder had already fucked him nine times, and yet here Miles was, still so eager, still so tight, still inviting him in like it was the first time.

Ryder stripped off his soaked tank top, revealing his hairy, sweat-glistened torso. The contrast hit them both immediately. He climbed onto the bed and pressed his big, rough hand along Miles' smooth back. The scent of his day rolled over Miles, thick with sweat, musk, and that earthy trace of dirt and labor. Miles breathed it in deeply, a shiver running through him as his cock throbbed in the jock pouch. He loved the way his man smelled after work, raw and real and overwhelmingly masculine.

"You smell so good," Miles whispered, voice already hazy with need. "It drives me crazy."

Ryder leaned down, covering Miles with his bigger frame. Coarse chest hair dragged against smooth skin as he nuzzled into the side of his boyfriend's neck, letting him inhale more of that potent scent. "My soft, pretty boy gets this worked up just thinking about me?" He freed his thick, heavy cock and rubbed the underside along Miles' crack, letting the prominent vein drag slowly back and forth over the puffy lips of his hole.

Every pass teased those sensitive outer folds, the raised vein providing a textured pressure that made Miles moan and push back. Ryder loved how plush and yielding Miles felt there, warm and soft against his own hardness. Miles was already slick and open, so Ryder lined up and pushed in with one long, steady stroke. He slid straight in to the hilt, the lube and lingering softness letting him bury every thick inch in one smooth glide.

Miles gasped as that thick vein slid along his inner walls, massaging him perfectly from the inside. Ryder bottomed out and held still for a moment, savoring the tight, velvety heat clenching around him, then began to move with deep, powerful thrusts.

He fucked his boyfriend with strength and care at the same time. Each stroke was hard enough to make their bodies slap together, but every motion carried love. Ryder's hairy chest rubbed against Miles' smooth back, sweat transferring between them. His strong arms wrapped around Miles' smaller frame, one hand finding Miles' and intertwining their fingers while the other stroked along his side with open affection.

"I love how soft you are," Ryder murmured against his ear, voice rough with arousal. "So smooth and warm for me. This boy pussy takes me so perfectly." He rolled his hips, making sure the thick vein on the underside of his cock kept rubbing right where Miles needed it most, dragging along those sensitive inner walls with every thrust.

Miles moaned into the pillow, lost in the sensations. He loved Ryder's roughness. The scrape of chest hair on his skin, the solid strength holding him down, the heavy masculine scent surrounding him. "Harder... I love how you feel on top of me," he breathed. "So big and rough. It makes me ache for you even when I'm already full of you."

Ryder gave him what he needed, thrusting deeper and faster while still kissing along Miles' shoulders and neck. He shifted slightly, changing the angle so his cock dragged even more firmly across Miles' prostate. The wet, rhythmic sounds of their bodies filled the room as Ryder fucked him with long, sensual strokes, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in deep, letting Miles feel every inch and every vein. Sweat dripped from Ryder's brow onto Miles' back, mixing with the lube and the growing sheen on Miles' own skin.

Ryder reached under Miles and wrapped a big hand around his leaking cock through the jockstrap, stroking him in time with his thrusts. "That's it, baby. Let me feel how much you need me," he growled softly, nipping at Miles' earlobe. Their bodies moved together like they were made for this, rough muscle and coarse hair against smooth, yielding skin. Strength meeting softness. Sweat and musk blending with quiet whimpers and low groans.

Miles pushed back to meet every thrust, his hole gripping Ryder tightly despite how many times he'd been fucked lately. The heat inside him only seemed to grow. Ryder kept the pace steady and deep for a long while, savoring every squeeze and every moan, before gradually building faster. The bed creaked beneath them as Ryder drove into him with more intensity, still whispering praise between breaths. "My perfect boy... love you like this... love every inch of you."

When Ryder finally came, he buried himself deep and filled Miles with a thick, pulsing load, groaning against his boy's neck as his hips jerked through the orgasm. He stayed inside for a long moment afterward, arms wrapped tight around him, placing soft kisses along his back and shoulders while his cock continued to twitch.

Gently he pulled out and turned Miles over, drawing the smaller man into his chest. Their bodies pressed together, hard and hairy against smooth and soft, as Ryder kissed him slow and deep.

"You okay, baby?" he asked quietly, brushing hair from Miles' forehead.

Miles nodded, nuzzling happily into Ryder's sweaty chest. "I needed that. Needed you."

Ryder smiled and held him closer. “Got to take care of my boy.”

They stayed tangled like that, breathing each other in.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and consenting adults‼️

Matt pulled back first, breathing hard, his big hands still kneading the firm swell of Nick’s ass like he couldn’t bear to let go. His lips were swollen, mustache damp from spit and heat, eyes dark and glassy under the glow of the smoking-area light.

“Let’s go back to yours,” he rasped, voice low.

Nick shook his head. “Can’t. My cousin’s crashing on the couch for the week. What about yours?”

Matt barked a short, surprised laugh that vibrated through both their chests. “My girl was already losing her shit before she stormed off. Pretty sure bringing home a guy to fuck would tip her straight into homicide.”

Nick snorted, the sound muffled against Matt’s collarbone. “Fair. Then what?”

Matt didn’t answer with words. He just tilted Nick’s chin up with two thick fingers and kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. Tongues sliding, teeth grazing, the scrape of that mustache sending fresh sparks down Nick’s spine.

Right then the door banged open behind them.

“Nick?” Tom’s voice cut through the fog. “We’re heading off. You coming?”

Nick broke away fast, lips shiny, cheeks flushed. “Shit, sorry, Tom. I’m just…”

Tom took one look at them, Matt’s hands still shamelessly palming Nick’s ass, Nick’s fingers twisted in Matt’s quarter-zip, and grinned wide enough to show teeth. “Don’t sweat it, man. Be safe. Text me tomorrow so I know you’re alive.”

With a mock salute and zero judgement, he disappeared back inside, door swinging shut behind him.

Silence settled, thick and electric.

Matt’s thumb brushed along the sharp line of Nick’s jaw, gentle in a way that felt almost dangerous after everything else. He leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“Please, Nick,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough. “I’ve got to fuck you.”

Nick’s pulse slammed in his throat. His hand moved on instinct, sliding down the front of Matt’s navy trousers, cupping the heavy, thickening length already straining against the expensive fabric. Fuck, it was big. Hot through the wool blend, filling out fast under his palm. Nick gave an experimental squeeze and felt Matt’s hips jerk forward.

Matt groaned low in his throat, hips rocking into the touch.

“Toilets?” Nick asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Matt grimaced, a flicker of hesitation crossing his handsome face. Public bathroom, drunk straight guy, bad idea stacked on bad idea. But Nick’s fingers were still stroking him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and Matt’s hands were back on that perfect ass, squeezing like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Fuck,” Matt breathed. “Right. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Nick grinned, sharp, reckless, a little wicked, and tugged Matt toward the side door that led back into the bar. They moved fast, shoulder to shoulder, Matt’s hand low on Nick’s back like he was afraid he’d bolt. The noise of the crowd swallowed them as they slipped past the bar, down the narrow corridor toward the gents.

Nick’s heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.

Matt’s breath was hot against his ear when he leaned in one last time before they pushed through the door.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, pocket rocket.”

Matt shouldered the door of the end cubicle open with enough force to make the whole row of stalls rattle. He hauled Nick inside, spun him around, and slammed the door shut behind them, locking it one-handed without breaking eye contact. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving, but neither of them cared.

Matt pressed Nick back against the cool metal door, bodies colliding hard. His mouth crashed down again, tongue pushing past Nick’s lips like he was starving for it. One thick arm hooked under Nick’s ass, lifting him effortlessly onto his toes so their mouths lined up perfectly. Nick’s back arched off the door; his legs parted on instinct, thighs bracketing Matt’s hips as Matt ground forward, pinning him in place.

Their hands were everywhere—frantic, greedy. Nick’s fingers fumbled at the buttons of Matt’s navy trousers, popping them open one by one until he could shove the fabric down just enough. Matt’s boxer briefs were already tented obscenely, the thick outline straining against black cotton. Nick didn’t hesitate. He slipped his hand inside, fingers curling around hot, velvet-hard flesh.

Fuck.

Matt’s cock was heavy, thick, pulsing in Nick’s palm like it had a heartbeat of its own. The head was already slick, smearing precome across Nick’s thumb as he gave an experimental stroke from root to tip. Matt groaned into his mouth—deep, broken, the sound vibrating through both of them. His hips jerked forward, fucking shallowly into Nick’s grip.

“Jesus,” Nick breathed against Matt’s lips, voice wrecked. “You’re fucking huge.”

Matt laughed, rough and breathless, mustache scraping along Nick’s jaw as he dragged open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck. “Told you I’d make it good for you, pocket rocket.”

Nick tightened his fist, stroking faster, feeling every ridge, every vein under his fingers. Matt’s free hand shoved up under Nick’s white tee, rough palm skating over the ridges of his six-pack, then higher to thumb across a tight nipple. Nick gasped, hips bucking forward so his own erection ground against Matt’s thigh.

The cubicle smelled of bleach and piss but they didn’t care in that moment. The bass from the bar throbbed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Someone banged on the main bathroom door outside, probably a queue but it felt miles away.

Matt’s mouth found Nick’s again, slower this time. He sucked on Nick’s tongue while his hand worked Nick’s jeans open, shoving them down to his mid thigh along with his briefs in one impatient tug. Nick’s cock sprang free, hard and leaking, curving up toward his navel. Matt wrapped a big hand around it immediately, stroking in time with the way Nick was jerking him.

They were both panting now, foreheads pressed together, mouths open against each other’s skin.

“Turn around,” Matt growled, voice gravel-low. “Want to see that ass.”

Matt’s breath hitched at the sight—Nick turned, forearms braced wide against the metal door, back arched, jeans and briefs shoved down to mid-thigh. The fluorescent light caught the smooth golden-tan skin of his ass, the defined dimples at the base of his spine, the way the muscles flexed as he pushed back just a fraction, offering himself.

“Pull your cheeks apart,” Matt rasped, voice thick with want. “Let me see that hole baby.”

Nick’s fingers dug into his own flesh without hesitation, spreading himself open. Cool air hit the sensitive skin, then warmer breath as Matt leaned in close. A low, appreciative groan rumbled out of him.

“Fuck… look at you. So pretty and tight.”

Nick felt the blunt, slick head of Matt’s cock nudge right against him—hot, insistent, already leaking. No condom wrapper tear, no crinkle of a lube sachet. Just pressure, immediate and unyielding, as Matt started to push forward.

Nick’s body locked up. A sharp, startled yelp tore out of him; he jerked forward instinctively, one hand flying back to slap against Matt’s hip.

“Whoa—man, steady on!” His voice cracked, half-laugh, half-panic. “I need prepping, you can’t just shove that fucking baseball bat inside me.”

Matt froze, hips stilling, the fat head still kissing Nick’s rim. His big hands settled on Nick’s waist, thumbs stroking soothing circles over the jut of hipbones even as his cock throbbed impatiently against him.

“Shit—sorry, sorry.” Matt’s forehead dropped to the back of Nick’s neck, breath coming in harsh pants. “Got carried away. You’re just… fuck, you’re right there and so hot. Didn’t think.”

Nick exhaled shakily, heart still hammering. The stretch had been too much too fast, a bright sting that made his eyes water for a second, but the raw hunger in Matt’s voice—the way he was trembling with restraint—sent a fresh pulse of heat straight to Nick’s cock.

He glanced back over his shoulder, lips quirked despite the adrenaline. “Yeah, no shit. You’re hung like a bloody horse, that thing isn’t going in me dry!.”

Matt huffed a laugh against his skin, the sound embarrassed and fond at once. “Point taken, pocket rocket.” He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of Nick’s neck, mustache tickling. “Tell me what you need.”

Nick swallowed, shifting his weight, still holding himself open with one hand. “Lube. Fingers. Start slow. I want it—fuck, I want it bad—but I want to actually enjoy your monster dick, not limp out of here bleeding.”

Matt nodded against him, already reaching down to his discarded trousers pooled around his ankles. He fished out his wallet again, flipped it open, and pulled out a condom, squeezing as much spare lube from the packet as possible onto his fingers.

“Told you I’m always prepared,” Matt muttered, tearing it open with his teeth.

Nick smirked. “Banker with a side hustle in safe sex. Very responsible.”

“Shut up.” Matt’s tone was fond, teasing. He rubbed what lube there was on to Nick’s hole and then slicked two thick fingers with his mouth as best he could, then pressed his chest to Nick’s back again, caging him gently against the door. One arm wrapped around Nick’s waist to hold him steady; the other hand slid down between them.

The first finger circled slow, teasing the rim, spreading cool slickness before dipping inside—just the tip at first, then deeper on the next pass. Nick sighed, head tipping back onto Matt’s shoulder as the stretch turned from burn to something warmer, fuller. “More spit please Matt.”

Matt pulled back and spat two big gobs on to Nick’s hole, watching for a second as it trickled down.

“Better?” Matt murmured, adding a second finger, scissoring gently, curling them to brush that spot that made Nick’s thighs shake.

“Much,” Nick breathed, pushing back onto the intrusion. “Fuck—right there. Keep doing that.”

Matt obliged, working him open with patient, deliberate strokes while his free hand roamed—stroking Nick’s leaking cock, thumbing over the head, then sliding up to pinch a nipple through the thin white tee. Nick moaned low, rocking between the fingers in his ass and the fist around his dick.

When Matt finally pulled his fingers free, Nick felt empty in a way that made him whine.

“Ready?” Matt asked, voice rougher now, condom already rolled on—he’d managed that one-handed while Nick was distracted.

Nick nodded, bracing both hands on the door again, spreading his feet wider. “Yeah. Give it to me. Slow at first.”

Matt lined up, spat on Nick’s hole again and on his own thick dick, slicking the head then pressing in. This time the stretch was intense but bearable—thick, hot, inching forward with careful pressure until the head popped past the ring of muscle. They both groaned at the same moment: Nick at the delicious burn, Matt at the vise-tight heat clamping around him.

“Fuck,” Matt hissed, hips stuttering like he was fighting not to slam home. “So tight… you good?”

Nick nodded, panting. “Keep going. All the way.”

Matt sank in slow, relentless, until his hips were flush against Nick’s ass, balls pressed tight. He held there, buried to the hilt, letting Nick adjust, forehead resting between Nick’s shoulder blades.

Nick felt split open, full in a way that bordered on too much, but god it was good. He clenched experimentally, earning a choked curse from Matt.

“Move,” Nick demanded, voice wrecked. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Matt didn’t need telling twice.

He pulled back almost all the way, then thrust back in—deep, controlled, but hard enough to make the door rattle in its frame. Nick’s moan echoed off the tiles.

And then Matt really started fucking him.

Matt didn’t ease in anymore. The second Nick’s “fuck me like you mean it” left his lips, something in Matt snapped—drunk, horny, completely forgetting they were in a grimy pub toilet with people queuing outside. He gripped Nick’s hips hard enough to leave fingerprints and started slamming in deep, brutal, relentless.

Each thrust drove Nick forward, his chest and forearms banging against the metal door with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that echoed off the tiles. Matt’s thick thighs slapped against the plush curve of Nick’s ass, the sound wet and obscene, skin on skin ringing out louder than the muffled bass from the bar. Nick’s fat ass jiggled with every impact, cheeks reddening from the force, the sting blooming into sharp, delicious heat that made his cock leak steadily onto the floor.

Nick couldn’t hold back the moans—loud, broken, filthy sounds spilling out of him every time Matt bottomed out and ground against that spot inside him. “Fuck—Matt—oh god—” His voice cracked, rising in pitch, completely uncontrolled.

Matt’s big hand shot up, clamping over Nick’s mouth to muffle the noise. His palm was hot, rough, smelling faintly of aftershave and lube. It helped for maybe two seconds before Nick’s tongue darted out, licking at the centre of Matt’s hand, then sucking two thick fingers into his mouth like they were the only thing keeping him sane.

Matt groaned at the wet heat around his fingers, hips stuttering harder. He shoved them deeper, letting Nick suck and swirl like it was cock, drool slicking down his chin. It quieted the moans to desperate, choked whimpers, but not by much—Nick was too far gone, body shaking, hole clenching rhythmically around the thick length splitting him open.

Matt’s other arm banded tight around Nick’s waist, holding him in place so he couldn’t rock away from the punishing pace. Sweat slicked their skin where they touched; Matt’s quarter-zip was rucked up, chest heaving against Nick’s back. The condom kept everything slick and safe, but the raw friction of Matt’s pubic bone grinding against Nick’s tailbone with every slam was bruising in the best way—deep aches that Nick knew he’d feel tomorrow and smile about.

Neither of them was close yet. Matt was riding the edge of drunk-horny oblivion, thrusts erratic but powerful, chasing the tight heat wrapped around him. Nick was trembling, cock untouched now and throbbing painfully, precome dripping in steady strings, but the overwhelming fullness kept him hovering right there—too much sensation, not quite enough to tip over.

Matt’s fingers fucked in and out of Nick’s mouth in time with his hips, sloppy and possessive. He growled low against the shell of Nick’s ear, voice wrecked.

“Taking it so fucking well… my little pocket rocket… gonna ruin this tight hole for anyone else…”

Nick moaned around the fingers, eyes rolling back, pushing his ass back to meet every brutal thrust despite the ache. The door rattled harder. Someone outside banged on it again—louder this time, impatient shouts filtering through—but it was background noise, meaningless.

Matt’s rhythm faltered for the first time, hips snapping unevenly as he started to chase his own edge, but he wasn’t there yet. Not quite.

Neither was Nick.

They were both still climbing, bodies locked together.

Matt felt like he could have fucked Nick forever.
He’d never had sex this good, raw and unrestrained, no hesitation. Every girl he’d been with had eventually tapped out, struggling to take his full length, wincing or asking him to slow down, go easy. But Nick? Nick was arching back into every brutal thrust, moaning around Matt’s fingers like he was starving for more, hole gripping him tight and greedy, welcoming the stretch instead of fighting it. The way Nick’s body swallowed him down to the root, the slick heat, the way his ass jiggled and reddened under the onslaught—it was fucking addictive. Matt was lost in it, hips rolling in deep, punishing strokes, chasing that perfect drag along his shaft.

Sadly, it wasn’t to be.

The main bathroom door banged open. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed across the tiles. Voices, low at first, then sharper.

Matt slowed instinctively, thrusts turning shallow, rolling, unable to stop completely. His cock throbbed inside Nick, still buried deep, every tiny movement sending sparks up his spine. He tightened his grip over Nick’s mouth, palm sealing tight, fingers still stuffed between those swollen lips to muffle the whimpers that kept trying to escape.

Nick’s eyes fluttered half-shut, chest heaving, body trembling from the sudden tease of restraint. He clenched around Matt on purpose, once, hard, making Matt bite back a groan against the back of Nick’s neck.

Then came the loud banging on their cubicle door. The whole stall shook.

“Pack it the fuck in and get out here!” A deep, pissed-off voice boomed from the other side. “You’re done. Get dressed and get the fuck out. Now.”

Bouncer. Shit.

Matt froze, cock still throbbing angrily inside Nick. For a second neither of them moved, Nick’s breath hot and ragged against Matt’s palm, Matt’s heart slamming against Nick’s back.

The banging came again, harder. “I said now! Don’t make me kick this door in.”

Matt cursed under his breath, finally pulling out slow. Both of them hissed at the sudden emptiness. Nick’s hole fluttered, slick and puffy, already missing the stretch. Matt fumbled for the condom, tying it off with shaking hands and dropping it into the toilet before flushing. Nick straightened on wobbly legs, yanking his briefs and jeans back up over his aching, reddened ass. The denim scraped against sensitive skin; he winced but kept quiet.

Matt had it worse. His cock was still rock-hard, engorged, flushed dark and leaking, veins standing out. Getting it back into his tight navy trousers was a fucking nightmare, fabric too snug, zipper fighting him, the head catching painfully against the waistband. He hissed through his teeth, shoving it down with one hand while trying to button up with the other.

Nick shot him a wild, breathless look, half-laughing, half-frustrated, as he zipped himself.

“Fucking hell,” Matt muttered, finally managing to force the zip up far enough to be decent. His erection strained obscenely against the front of his trousers, a thick ridge impossible to hide.

Another bang. “Last warning!”

Matt unlocked the door. The bouncer, a mountain of a man in a black polo, arms crossed, stood blocking the exit, face like thunder. Behind him, two guys at the urinals were openly staring, phones half-raised like they were debating whether to film this.

“Out,” the bouncer growled, jerking his thumb toward the corridor. “Both of you. Now.”

Nick went first, cheeks flaming but head high, jeans still riding low on his hips. Matt followed, walking stiff-legged, every step rubbing his aching cock against rough fabric. The bouncer herded them through the bar like naughty schoolboys, past curious glances straight to the front door.

Cold night air hit them as they were shoved out onto the pavement.

“Don’t come back,” the bouncer said flatly, then slammed the door behind them.

Silence. February chill. Streetlights buzzing.

Nick turned to Matt, lips parted, still flushed and wrecked. Matt looked back at him, hair mussed, mustache crooked from kissing, trousers still tented like a fucking flagpole.

They stared at each other for a beat.

Then Nick laughed, low, disbelieving, the sound turning into a shaky exhale.

“Well,” he said, voice hoarse. “That was abrupt.”

Matt dragged a hand through his hair, laughing too, rough, embarrassed, still painfully hard. “Yeah. Fuck. Sorry. Got a bit carried away.”

Nick stepped closer, close enough that Matt could smell the sex still clinging to both of them. His eyes flicked down to the obvious bulge in Matt’s trousers, then back up.

“You’re still hard as fuck.”

Matt swallowed. “Can’t help it. You felt too good.”

Nick’s gaze darkened. He glanced up and down the quiet street, empty except for a couple of smokers further along, then back at Matt.

Matt leaned down and kissed the smaller guy, slow and lingering this time, lips soft against Nick’s despite the lingering heat between them. When he pulled back, his voice was low, almost sheepish.

“I enjoyed it while it lasted anyway.”

Nick ran his finger along the thick, insistent ridge still straining against Matt’s navy trousers, tracing the full length of it with deliberate slowness. Matt’s breath hitched.

“I’d like to finish what we started,” Nick murmured, eyes flicking up to meet Matt’s.

“You said we couldn’t go back to yours?”

Nick chewed his lip, glancing around the quiet street. The smokers from earlier had wandered off; it was just them now, the February chill nipping at exposed skin, streetlights casting long shadows.

“No, we can’t.” He looked back at Matt, gaze darkening. “How horny are you still?”

Matt let out a rough laugh, shifting his weight as if the pressure in his trousers was becoming unbearable. “I’m about ready to mount you here frankly.” That golden-retriever grin was back—eager, boyish, completely at odds with the filthy things they’d just done.

Nick grinned in return, sharp and reckless. “Interesting you said that. What about the alleyway?” He nodded behind Matt, toward the narrow cut-through between two buildings, half-hidden by a dumpster and a stack of empty kegs. Dark, shadowed, barely visible from the main road.

Matt turned to look, eyebrows shooting up. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Matt, you just pounded the fuck out of me in the toilets and got caught. This is hardly that risky.”

“I’m not sure…”

Nick closed the distance again, pressing his body flush against Matt’s. He kissed the side of Matt’s neck—slow, wet, teeth grazing just enough to make Matt shudder—while his hand shoved down the front of Matt’s trousers, past the half-open zip, fingers wrapping around the hot, pulsing length inside. Matt’s cock jumped in his grip, slick at the tip, still rock-hard and desperate.

“Please, Matty,” Nick whispered against his skin, stroking once, slow and firm.

Matt groaned low in his throat, hips jerking forward into Nick’s fist. His hands found Nick’s waist, gripping hard.

“Alright then,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Go on the pocket rocket. Lead on.”

Nick didn’t need telling twice.

He tugged Matt backward into the mouth of the alley, just far enough that the streetlights barely reached them. The air smelled of damp brick and stale beer, but neither cared. Nick dropped to his knees on the cold concrete without hesitation, ignoring the bite against his jeans. His hands yanked Matt’s trousers and briefs down just enough—cock springing free, thick and flushed, veins standing proud, the head glistening.

Nick looked up at him through dark lashes, lips parted.

Matt stared down, breathing ragged, one hand bracing against the brick wall, the other threading into Nick’s tousled waves.

“Fuck… you look so good on your knees.”

Nick smirked, then leaned in and took Matt into his mouth in one smooth glide.

Matt’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thud. “Jesus—fuck—”

Nick hollowed his cheeks, tongue swirling around the head before sliding down further, relaxing his throat until his nose brushed the coarse hair at the base. Matt was big—thick enough to stretch his lips, long enough to hit the back of his throat—but Nick took it like he was made for it, moaning softly around the length, vibrations making Matt’s thighs shake.

Matt’s hand tightened in Nick’s hair, not forcing, just holding on like he needed the anchor. His hips rocked shallowly, fucking Nick’s mouth with careful restraint at first, then deeper as Nick encouraged him with eager hums and the flat press of his tongue.

The wet, sloppy sounds echoed softly off the alley walls—suction, spit, the occasional gag when Matt pushed too far and Nick took it anyway. Nick’s own cock throbbed painfully in his jeans, untouched, leaking steadily, but he ignored it, focused entirely on the heavy weight sliding over his tongue, the salty taste flooding his mouth, the way Matt’s abs flexed and trembled above him.

Matt was close already—too worked up from the interrupted fuck in the toilets, too turned on by the risk, by Nick on his knees in a filthy alley taking him like it was nothing.

Matt ran his hands through Nick’s hair and pulled him of his dick, a line of drool still connecting the head of his big dick and Nick’s talented mouth.

Matt’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, chest heaving as he leaned down and hauled Nick up from his knees. Their mouths crashed together in a bruising kiss—Matt tasting the salt of his own pre-cum on Nick’s tongue, groaning into it like he couldn’t get enough. Nick’s lips were swollen, slick, and Matt devoured them, one big hand cupping the back of Nick’s neck to keep him exactly where he wanted him.

When he finally pulled back, eyes wild and dark, he spun Nick around and shoved him face-first against the damp brick wall. The cold, gritty surface bit into Nick’s palms where he braced himself. Matt’s hands were already moving—rough, impatient—yanking the back of Nick’s jeans and briefs down just enough to bare his ass again. The night air hit flushed, reddened skin, making Nick hiss softly.

Matt ran a thick finger down the crevice between Nick’s cheeks, slow and deliberate, pressing just enough to tease the sensitive rim. Nick whimpered, hips twitching forward against the wall.

“Shit,” Matt muttered. “I don’t have another condom.”

Nick twisted, trying to chase Matt’s mouth again, lips brushing Matt’s jaw. “Forget about it,” he breathed, desperate. “Just—please, please fuck me.”

Matt’s control snapped. He shoved Nick harder against the wall, one palm flat on the back of Nick’s head to pin him in place, cheek pressed to rough brick. “Spread your legs.”

Nick obeyed instantly, feet shuffling wider on the uneven concrete. Matt wedged a thick, muscled thigh between them and kicked Nick’s stance even further apart, forcing him open, vulnerable. The position arched Nick’s back beautifully, ass pushed out, presented.

“Pull your cheeks apart for me.”

Nick’s hands moved without thought—fingers digging into firm flesh, spreading himself wide. His hole winked in the dim alley light, still slick and puffy from earlier, flushed pink and begging.

Matt let out a low, guttural sound. He hocked up a fat glob of spit, letting it drool slowly from his lips onto Nick’s exposed hole. The warm slickness slid down, coating the rim, making Nick shiver and clench around nothing. Matt spat again—this time directly onto his own cock—thick strings of saliva landing on the swollen head and dripping down the shaft. He fisted himself roughly once, twice, spreading the makeshift lube with quick, impatient strokes.

Nick was trembling now, forehead pressed to the wall, breathing shallow and fast. “Matt—fuck—hurry—”

Matt lined up, blunt head nudging against that slick, spit-wet entrance. No rubber, no fingers, just raw need. He pushed forward slow at first—careful despite everything—watching the way Nick’s hole yielded, stretching around the thick crown.

Nick gasped, sharp and high, body locking for a second before he forced himself to relax. The stretch burned, fuller without the thin barrier, every ridge and vein dragging against sensitive walls. Matt groaned low, hips rocking in tiny increments, feeding more of himself inside.

“Fuck… so tight… feel that?” Matt’s voice was gravelly and low. “Taking me bare, fuck yes”

Nick moaned, needy and loud, pushing back despite the ache. “Deeper—please—give it to me—”

Matt snapped his hips forward in one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Nick’s cry echoed off the alley walls—half-pain, half-pleasure—before Matt clamped a hand over his mouth again, muffling it.

They stayed like that for a heartbeat: Matt buried deep, balls pressed flush against Nick’s ass, both of them shaking. Then Matt started to move. slow drags out, brutal slams back in. Every thrust grinding Nick’s cock against the rough brick through his jeans, friction almost too much.

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the narrow space, mixed with Nick’s choked moans and Matt’s ragged breathing. Spit and precome made everything slicker, messier, the drag obscene.

Matt’s free hand gripped Nick’s hip hard enough to bruise, holding him steady for the punishing rhythm.

“Gonna fill you up,” Matt growled against Nick’s ear, mustache scraping sensitive skin. “Gonna cum so deep inside you pocket rocket. You want that?”

Nick nodded frantically against Matt’s palm, eyes squeezed shut, body rocking with every thrust.

“Yes.”

“Fuck yes”

He wanted it all.

Matt jackhammered into Nick with the full brutal length of his dick, hips snapping forward in long, punishing strokes that buried him to the root every time. It was agony and delirium all at once—the raw stretch without a condom, the drag of every thick inch against oversensitive walls, the way Matt’s cockhead battered Nick’s prostate relentlessly. Nick’s moans turned into broken, breathless cries muffled against his own forearm where he braced against the brick.

Voices drifted from the mouth of the alley—a group of late-night drinkers, laughing and talking too loud, footsteps echoing closer. Nick’s eyes flew open.

“Matt—fuck—people—”

But Matt was too far gone. Eyes glazed, breath ragged, he just growled low in his throat and kept pounding, harder if anything, like the risk only fueled him. Nick bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to stay quiet as the voices swelled—right at the end of the alley now—then mercifully kept moving, too wrapped up in their own conversation to glance into the shadows. The bins and darkness sheltered them just enough.

Matt’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts turned erratic, hips slamming flush one last time as he tipped over the edge with a choked groan. Heat flooded Nick’s guts in thick, pulsing spurts—bare, raw, overwhelming. Matt kept moving through it, lazy shallow thrusts that pushed his cum deeper, some of it bubbling out around his shaft and trickling warm down Nick’s inner thighs.

Finally Matt slipped out with a wet sound. He rested heavy against Nick’s back for a long moment, chest heaving, lips brushing sweaty skin as he kissed the nape of Nick’s neck, then the side of his throat.

“That was fucking amazing,” Matt rasped, voice wrecked and reverent. “Best shag of my life, mate. Jesus Christ.”

Nick turned in his arms. They kissed slow and deep, tongues lazy now, tasting sweat and sex and the faint edge of come. The high was fading fast, though, replaced by the bite of February air on damp skin.

Nick pulled up his jeans first, wincing as the denim scraped over his tender, slick ass. Matt did the same, tucking his softening—but still impressive—cock away with a grimace. Nick reached out one last time, wrapping his small hand around the sensitive length through the fabric, giving it a few slow, teasing jerks. Matt hissed, hips twitching, but leaned into the kiss anyway.

“That was great, man,” Nick murmured against his mouth. “Just what I needed tonight.”

Matt tucked himself properly away, zipping up. They stepped out of the alley and back onto the quiet street.

“Which way you headed?” Matt asked, hands shoved in his pockets like he was trying to play it casual.

Nick told him the direction of his Tube station. He braced for Matt to mumble some excuse and bolt the opposite way—post-nut clarity hitting, straight guy regrets kicking in—but Matt didn’t. He just fell into step beside him, shoulders brushing every few paces, walking Nick all the way to the entrance.

They stopped awkwardly under the glow of the station lights. Nick shifted his weight.

“Thanks, Matt. It was great.”

He turned to head inside.

He’d only gone a few steps when he heard it.

“Pocket rocket.”

Nick turned back. Matt walked over, closing the distance fast. He leaned down, cupped Nick’s jaw with one big hand, and kissed him—soft this time, almost careful, thumb stroking along Nick’s cheekbone.

“Could I maybe get your number?” Matt asked quietly, voice rough with nerves. “Look, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, but… I just really enjoyed myself. You seem cool and chill and… I’d like to see you again.”

Nick blinked, genuinely shocked—not just by the ask, but by how vulnerable Matt looked saying it, golden-retriever eyes uncertain for the first time all night.

He grinned, slow and warm, and kissed Matt back.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

He pulled out his phone, handed it over. Matt typed his number in quickly, then hit call so his own phone buzzed in his pocket.

“There you go,” Matt said, grinning now, relief flooding his face.

They kissed one last time—lingering, sweet—before Nick finally headed down the escalator.

Back at his flat, Nick kicked off his shoes, still buzzing under his skin despite the ache in his ass and thighs. He checked his phone.

Matt had already texted.

“Hey buddy, thanks for tonight it was really fun, let’s grab a drink sometime 🙂”

And there was one from Tom too.

“Have fun Nicky, he was hot as fuck, just don’t let his girlfriend catch you, she sounded nuts 😂”

Nick smiled, thumbs flying.

“Home safe. I did 💙”

He hit send, plugged his phone in, and collapsed onto his bed, the taste of Matt still on his lips and the memory of that heat still flooding his guts.

‼️All characters in this story are consenting adults and over the age of 18‼️

I stood in the empty locker room, still breathing hard from the kickboxing session, and stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. Sweat glistened across my big, bulky frame. I was in the middle of a serious bulk, so I wasn’t shredded or cut, just thick and powerful. My chest was heavy and hairy, shoulders wide, arms pumped and veined. My stomach had a solid layer of muscle under a bit of softness that made me look even bigger. Lower down, my heavy 8-inch cock hung thick between my legs, already half-hard from the post-workout rush of testosterone. A dense, dark bush of pubes framed the base, making it look even more imposing. Sweat dripped down my torso and matted the hair on my chest and stomach. I looked exactly like what I was: a masculine, hung stud ready to rut.

This feeling always hit me after training. My body was buzzing with energy and the deep, burning need to fuck. To dominate. To stretch a tight hole wide open and breed it full. Women had never really satisfied that urge, even when I was younger and fucking my way through half my classmates and their families. They couldn’t take the kind of hard, relentless pounding I craved. But boy pussy? Fuck, I loved boy pussy. The way it gripped, the way it opened up and surrendered, the way it could take everything I gave and still beg for more. Nothing compared to sliding into a smooth, eager ass and claiming it completely.

I grabbed my black shorts and pulled them on, my thick cock still semi-hard and bulging obviously against the fabric. Then I sat on the bench, opened Sniffies, and started scrolling. It only took a couple of minutes to find what I wanted. Niall. 24, tight little muscle twunk, smooth and blonde with a cute face. The photo he sent of his ass made my dick twitch hard. Pink, hairless, and perfectly fuckable. He replied almost instantly when I messaged him. Ten minutes away. Good enough.

“On my way,” I typed, already feeling that familiar primal hunger rising.

The walk over only made me hornier. By the time I knocked on his door my cock was fully hard and leaking in my shorts. Niall opened up and he looked even better in person, toned but not bulky, blond hair, bright eyes, and that eager little smile. I didn’t bother with small talk. The second the door shut behind me I grabbed him by the waist, pulled his smaller body against my sweaty bulk, and kissed him hard.

He tried to drop to his knees, mumbling something about sucking me off, but I shook my head.

“Not tonight,” I growled against his lips. “I need to breed. Get on the bed.”

I walked him backwards into the bedroom, stripping his t-shirt off as we went. The moment we reached the bed I pushed him onto his back. His eyes widened as I yanked his shorts and underwear down, exposing that smooth pink hole I’d been fantasising about the whole walk over.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty boy pussy,” I muttered, shoving my own shorts down. My thick, veined cock sprang free, the fat head already slick with pre-cum, heavy balls hanging below the dark bush.

I climbed between his spread legs, grabbed his thighs and pushed them back toward his chest, folding him open. Then I leaned in and dragged my tongue flat over his hole in one long, slow lick. The taste hit me instantly, clean, slightly sweet, with that warm, musky boy scent that always made my cock throb. I groaned against his skin and went back for more, licking deeper, circling the tight pink rim with the tip of my tongue before pushing inside.

I fucking loved the taste of boy pussy. Loved how it smelled up close, that intimate, slightly earthy musk mixed with fresh sweat and the faint sweetness of his skin. It was addictive in a way nothing else ever was. I buried my face between his cheeks, nose pressed right against him, licking and sucking greedily while he moaned and squirmed beneath me. My thick tongue worked his hole open, tasting every inch, savouring the way his rim fluttered and tightened around me. The smell filled my lungs with every breath, making my head spin and my heavy cock leak steadily onto the sheets.

After a couple of minutes I pulled back, lips shiny and chin wet, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Perfect little cunt,” I said, voice rough. “Now I’m really gonna breed it.”

I grabbed the lube he’d put out on the bedside table, coated my thick cock generously, and squeezed a big dollop right onto his smooth pink hole. Then I lined up my fat head and pushed forward. The moment it popped past his tight rim I kept pressing, watching inch after thick inch slowly disappear into his body. His hole gripped me like a hot, silky vice, stretching wide around my girth. Nothing in the world felt better than this, having my cock buried deep inside a boy, feeling his pussy open up and surrender to me completely.

Once I was balls-deep, I pinned his wrists above his head with one big hand and started to fuck. Hard, deep, possessive strokes that slammed my hips against his ass. Every thrust drove me as far as I could go, trying to reach even deeper, claiming every inch of him. I loved having my dick inside a boy like this, the way his legs spread wide for me, the way his tight hole fluttered and clenched around my thickness, the way his body was made to take me.

“Take it,” I grunted, pounding harder. “This boy pussy belongs to me right now. Gonna breed you full.”

Sweat dripped from my hairy chest onto his smooth torso as I rutted into him. I leaned down and bit his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark, then another on his collarbone. I loved marking them. Loved knowing I’d left proof that I’d owned this hole.

Niall moaned loudly beneath me, legs wrapped tight around my thick waist, his pussy clenching and fluttering around my cock with every thrust. The more he submitted and spread himself open for me, the harder I fucked. The burning need to breed him grew unbearable.

I sped up, hips snapping, cock pistoning in and out of his stretched hole. My heavy balls slapped against him relentlessly.

“Fuck, I love this,” I growled against his ear. “Love having my fat dick buried in a boy’s tight cunt. Love how you spread your legs for me like a good little slut. This pussy was made to take my cock.”

The urge to breed him completely took over. I slammed in deep and held there for a moment, grinding slow circles so he could feel every inch of me owning him.

“Gonna fill you up,” I panted. “Gonna pump this boy cunt so full of my seed. Fuck… I wish I could get you pregnant. Wish I could knock this pretty pussy up and leave my load growing inside you.”

With a deep, guttural groan I slammed in to the hilt and unloaded. Thick, heavy ropes of cum flooded him, pulse after pulse, until I could feel it starting to leak out around my shaft. I kept grinding deep, making sure every drop stayed inside as long as possible, marking him from the inside out.

When I finally started to pull back, a thick glob of my load immediately oozed from his ruined, puffy hole. I looked down at the creamy mess I’d made and felt that deep, satisfied rush settle in my chest.

I gave his ass one last firm slap and smirked.

“Good boy. You took it exactly how I needed.”

‼️All characters in this story are over 18 and consenting adults‼️

The bar was busy, full of professionals enjoying expensive drinks after work, it was a smart spot, all leather, chrome and exposed brick. Nick sat in a booth, nursing the last inch of his Sauvignon Blanc, his third large glass of the night and tried to look interested while Jake described, in exhaustive detail, the colour scheme for his brother Ryan’s Cape Town wedding. Tom’s hand rested casually on the small of Jake’s back, the easy, unconscious touch of people who’d been in love so long they didn’t even notice they were doing it anymore.

Nick noticed.

He loved them both really, he did but tonight the perfect-couple energy felt like sandpaper on raw skin. Becca, his best friend, had bailed with a vague “stuck at work” text three hours ago, leaving him stranded in couple-ville with no wingwoman and no buffer. He’d had a shit day at work frankly and it came on top of a fling he’d been having fizzling out and watching his friends in their perfect relationship was the exact opposite of what he needed right now.

He was twenty-five, stupidly handsome by most objective standards. Thick, dark brown wavy hair, styled in a modern tousled crop framed a symmetrical face; vivid hazel-green eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones, strong youthful jaw, and full lips. His attractive face was paired with a lean, gym-toned physique - broad shoulders, sculpted chest, defined abs, and strong legs. He wasn’t jacked by any means but he looked after himself and worked out several times a week and being 5ft 9 meant he looked bigger than he perhaps was.

Freshly showered and wearing a loose fitting dark linen shirt open half way down his chest and revealing his pecs, paired with cream jeans that he loved for framing his ass just right and Birkenstocks. He’d spent forty minutes in front of the mirror getting the tousled crop of dark waves exactly messy enough. And for what? To sit here pretending he gave a shit about the wedding of someone he’d never met and wasn’t going to.

What was making the night even worse was that the couple in the next booth were screaming at one another. She was shrill, mascara-streaked, gesturing wildly, calling him all sorts of names and how he was completely useless; he was slouched, drunk, slurring variations of “shut the fuck up, babe” and “please stop shouting, you’re embarrassing us”.

Nick had clocked the guy earlier when he’d brushed past to reach the toilets he looked tall, probably six-one when he stood up, broad, expensive clothes doing nothing to hide the gym-rat body underneath. Navy trousers, striped oxford, Ralph Lauren quarter-zip stretched across thick shoulders and a meaty chest. And that mustache. Thick, dark, perfectly trimmed. Nick’s exact type, unfortunately.

Now the guy was just annoying and he really wanted to turn around and tell them both to shut the fuck up but he bit his tongue. The girl seemed volatile and he could be arsed getting into something right now.

Nick drained his glass, excused himself, and threaded through the crowd to the bar. “Vodka tonic, please. Double.” He carried it outside into the smoking area, the cold February air hitting his flushed skin like a slap. He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and let the nicotine buzz soften the edges of his irritation.

Tom appeared a moment later, coatless, already reaching. “Bum one?”

“Every fucking time we come out Tom, just buy your own” Nick complained as he passed him one.

“Yeah, yeah, but rugby players can’t smoke! Beside I’m an athlete, and most important Jake would kill me.” Tom grinned, liting up anyway, exhaling with guilty pleasure. They stood shoulder to shoulder for a minute in companionable silence.

“So,” Tom said eventually. “Danny?”

Nick shrugged. “Fizzled. Nice guy. Zero spark.”

Tom nodded, sympathetic. “You’ll find someone.”

“Not tonight I won’t.” Nick took another drag. “I’m going to finish this and scroll Grindr like the tragic single gay cliché I am.”

Tom laughed softly. “Come back in soon, yeah? Jake gets separation anxiety after two pints.”

“Tell him I’m having an existential crisis in the alley. He’ll understand.”

Tom stubbed out his cigarette, clapped Nick on the shoulder, and disappeared back inside.

Nick pulled out his phone, opened the app. A familiar parade of headless torsos, blank grids, “just looking” bios. He was half-heartedly debating whether to resurrect that hot personal trainer from last summer when a shadow fell across the screen.

He dragged on his cigarette and looked up.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

It was him. The drunk straight guy. Up close he was even more stupidly good-looking warm brown eyes glassy with booze, that thick mustache framing a crooked, easy grin.

“Hey. Can I bum a cigarette?”

Nick rolled his eyes but fished one out of the pack anyway. Easier than arguing and he’d hopefully piss off. The guy took it, lit it with slightly unsteady hands, and stayed exactly where he was, swaying just a fraction.

“Thanks, man. I’m Matt. Supposed to have quit. Girlfriend hates it. But she just stormed off down the street screaming, so… fuck it.”

Nick sighed then tucked his phone away and gave Matt a proper once-over. The guy was tall, he’d been right, easily 6ft 1 maybe 6ft 2. The quarter-zip was stretched tight across a full, defined chest. The navy trousers fitted perfectly, showing off strong toned legs and framing an ass you could have bounced a penny off, far too much ass he thought for a straight bloke. Lightly tanned skin at the open collar. Big hands. Thick fingers. Nick’s mouth went a little dry.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Our secret. I’m Nick.”

Matt grinned big, white teeth showing, he was giving off golden-retriever energy. “Nice to meet you, Nick.”

“I heard the argument,” Nick added, mostly to fill the silence. “Hope she calms down. For your sake.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “She’s fucking nuts sometimes. Wants to go to Cannes in two weeks. I work at the bank can’t just take random holiday. She works for her dad, so her schedule’s whatever. She started screaming I’m useless, that I never prioritise her. Not cool.”

Nick nodded, already regretting engaging. He took a sip of vodka tonic and prepared to make an exit.

Matt went quiet. Just stood there, smoking, staring down at Nick with an expression that was hard to read. Then:

“You got a girl, Nicky?”

Nick snorted. “No, man. I’m gay. And single right now.”

Matt nodded slowly. “Cool. Cool. Yeah… I kinda figured.”

A beat, Matt just stared at him, had eyes subtly moving over Nick’s face and down to the v in his shirt, almost imperceptible at his pecs.

“You’re really sexy, dude,” Matt said, voice low and matter-of-fact. “Like a little pocket rocket. All those muscles.” The way he said it was odd, his face was innocent looking, that golden retriever vibe still emanating from him. Like it had just occurred to him the guy in front of him was attractive and he should point it out. Nick kind of felt like he should be uncomfortable or almost feel threatened but he just felt confused by the situation.

Nick blinked. Laughed once, disbelieving. “Cheers. I thanks?”

Matt stepped slightly closer. Not aggressively, just enough that Nick could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the expensive woody aftershave cut with beer and clean sweat. “You must get all the guys.”

Nick downed the rest of his drink in one long swallow. “I do alright.”

Matt’s eyes dropped to Nick’s mouth, then back up. “I mean… I’m straight, bro. But I’d definitely make out with you. Bet you’re fucking dynamite in the sack.”

Nick stared. “What the fuck, Matt.”

Matt laughed loose, drunk, unembarrassed. “Sorry. I’m a bit pissed. But still. Honest.”

Nick’s brain screamed walk away. This was messy. This was a drunk straight guy who’d probably wake up tomorrow full of regret and maybe a black eye for Nick if the girlfriend came back. But the rest of him the part that had spent all night feeling invisible, the part that was tipsy and horny and staring at six-foot-one of broad shoulders and thick arms and that goddamn mustache was louder.

He exhaled smoke to the side. “Look, Matt. Appreciate the ego boost. Great chatting. But I should get back to my friends.”

He turned.

Matt caught his wrist big hand wrapping easily around it and tugged Nick’s palm flat against his stomach.

Hard, ridged abs flexed under the soft merino. Nick felt every cut, every shallow valley between muscle. His breath hitched.

He should pull away.

He didn’t.

Matt’s grin softened into something almost boyish. “Are you serious?” Nick asked, voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Yeah,” Matt murmured. “You’re gorgeous. I’m horny. And I wanna try it.”

Nick looked up at him really looked. Those warm brown eyes were locked on his mouth. Pupils blown. Lips parted.

Nick closed the last six inches and kissed him.

Hard.

Matt groaned instantly, a low, surprised rumble that vibrated into Nick’s chest. Big hands slid to Nick’s lower back, then lower still, cupping the firm curve of his ass and squeezing like he’d been thinking about it all night. Nick rose onto his toes, arms winding around Matt’s neck, fingers threading into thick, tousled hair. Their tongues met messy, hungry, tasting of vodka, beer, smoke.

Nick moaned into Matt’s mouth, soft and desperate. Matt answered with a rough sound, pressing him back against the brick wall, thigh slotting between Nick’s legs so he could grind down against solid muscle. Heat surged low in Nick’s belly; his cock was already thickening in his jeans.

Matt broke the kiss just long enough to mutter against his lips, “Fuck, you’re such a good kisser. You’re so hot man”

Nick laughed breathlessly. “Please don’t stop”

Matt’s mustache scraped deliciously against Nick’s upper lip as they dove back in, hands roaming, bodies slotting together like they’d done this a hundred times instead of never.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nick knew this was a terrible idea.

Right now, though, terrible felt fucking fantastic.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and are consenting adults ‼️

The apartment door clicked shut behind Simon at 6:47 p.m. He kicked off his work shoes, dropped his backpack by the entryway, and exhaled the long day. His black button-up still smelled faintly of coffee and the citrus hand soap from the office bathroom. Underneath it all, though, was the low, insistent heat that had been simmering in his gut since lunch, since his man had sent him a photo while working out at the gym.

He padded into the living room in socked feet.

Rob was exactly where Simon had pictured him: sprawled on the big sectional, legs spread wide, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, PS5 controller balanced on one thick thigh. The TV blasted stadium noise and trash talk. Rob’s headset mic hovered near his full lips; he was mid-laugh, voice deep and easy.

“Bro, you’re actually trash. How you miss that open net? I’m carrying,” Rob said, grinning, eyes locked on the screen.

Simon’s cock gave a hopeful twitch inside his slim chinos.

He crossed the room quietly, came around the side of the sofa, and leaned down. Rob’s dark hair was still damp from the post-gym shower he must’ve taken before spending the afternoon playing FIFA with his buddies. Simon pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth.

Rob tilted his head just enough to meet it, quick, distracted, then turned back to the game.

“Rob,” Simon murmured against his jaw, sliding a hand up the warm slab of Rob’s chest under the faded team hoodie.

“Mmm. One sec, yeah?” Rob muttered, thumbs flying over the controller. “Let me just finish this game. We’re up 3–2.”

Simon exhaled through his nose, half-frustrated, half-turned on by how unbothered Rob could be. He straightened, considered sulking for about three seconds, then decided fuck it.

He dropped to his knees between Rob’s spread thighs.

Rob didn’t look down at first. Simon could hear the tinny echo of his friends through the headset, shouting, laughing, calling Rob’s name.

Simon pressed his face right into the fat, soft bulge trapped behind thin grey cotton. The heat hit him immediately, musky and familiar, that perfect post-shower-and-sweat cocktail that always made his mouth water. He nuzzled harder, nose dragging along the thick outline, lips parting so he could mouth at it through the fabric. The dick underneath twitched once, then started to thicken.

Rob’s thighs tensed.

Simon looked up.

Rob’s eyes flicked down, only for a second, pupils already blown. He gave one small, sharp nod.

Permission.

Simon hooked two fingers into the waistband and tugged the sweatpants down just enough. Rob’s cock sprang free, heavy and half-hard, the foreskin still mostly covering the flushed head. Simon didn’t waste time. He wrapped his lips around the tip, tongue swirling under the skin, coaxing it back as he sucked gently. Then he pulled off with a wet sound and dragged the thickening shaft across his cheek, over his nose, letting the heat and the smell sink into him. Musk, clean skin, a faint trace of body wash. Heaven.

He took Rob deeper.

Rob’s abs flexed. One hand stayed glued to the controller; the other dropped to Simon’s hair, not pushing, just holding, fingers curling tight.

“Fuu, yeah, pass it, pass it,” Rob said into the mic, voice cracking on the second syllable.

Simon hollowed his cheeks and bobbed, slow at first, then faster. He could feel Rob fighting it, the way his breath hitched, the way his hips jerked once before he forced them still. Every few strokes Simon pulled back to lap at the slit, letting spit slick the shaft so it glistened.

“Bro, you good?” came a voice through the headset, tinny but concerned. “You sound… weird.”

Rob swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah, just helping Si with something. Keep playing.”

Simon smirked around the cock in his mouth and took him to the back of his throat.

Rob’s fingers tightened in his hair. A low, choked moan slipped out before he could catch it.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” another voice laughed.

“Shut up, man,” Rob managed, voice strained. “Focus on the game.”

Simon doubled down, suction tight, tongue working the underside, one hand cupping Rob’s balls and rolling them gently. He could feel them drawing up, could feel the telltale throb against his tongue.

Rob’s hips punched forward once, twice, then froze.

“Fuck, fuck,” Rob breathed, barely audible.

Simon pulled back just enough to keep the head on his tongue and looked up again.

Rob was staring down at him, jaw clenched, eyes glassy. He gave the tiniest nod.

Simon sank all the way down until his nose was buried in the trimmed hair at the base and swallowed around him.

Rob came with a full-body shudder. Hot pulses hit the back of Simon’s throat; he swallowed greedily, milking every drop while Rob’s fingers spasmed in his hair. A few muffled grunts leaked into the mic despite Rob’s best efforts.

The headset crackled with laughter and jeering.

“Bruh. You definitely just nutted.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rob panted, voice shaky. “I’m, I’m good. Just gimme a sec.”

Simon slowly pulled off, licking his lips, chin shiny. He stayed on his knees for a moment, admiring the way Rob’s cock still twitched against his abs, slick and spent.

Then he climbed up.

He straddled Rob’s lap in one smooth motion, knees bracketing his hips. His own erection was painful now, trapped in his work pants. He rolled his hips once, grinding down against the sensitive dick beneath him.

Rob hissed.

“Si,” Rob whispered, mouthing along his jaw. “The game”

“That was really hot. But it wasn’t enough.”

Rob’s hands finally dropped the controller. It clattered onto the cushion. He gripped Simon’s ass with both hands, pulling him closer.

“Yeah?” Rob’s voice was gravel. “What do you need, Si?”

Simon rocked again, harder. “Need you inside me. Right now.”

Rob groaned low in his throat.

The headset was still on. Voices were still chattering.

“Yo Rob, you coming back or what?”

Rob reached up, yanked the headset off, and tossed it onto the coffee table. The chat exploded, laughing, yelling, someone chanting “get it get it get it.”

Rob ignored them.

He grabbed Simon’s face with both hands and kissed him filthy, tongue deep, tasting himself on Simon’s mouth. Simon moaned into it, grinding shamelessly.

“Bedroom?” Rob muttered against his lips.

“No,” Simon breathed. “Here. Couch. Now.”

Rob’s eyes darkened. “You’re gonna make me mute the whole squad?”

“Tell them you have to go,” Simon said, already fumbling with his belt. “Tell them your boyfriend needs to get fucked.”

Rob laughed once, short, rough, then leaned forward and bit Simon’s lower lip.

He reached for the headset again, slipped it back on just long enough to speak.

“Lads, sorry. Gotta bounce. My boy needs me.”

A chorus of hoots and “fucking finally” and “get that twink” erupted.

Rob ripped the headset off, powered the console down with one jab of his thumb, and threw Simon backward onto the cushions.

Clothes came off in a frantic blur, chinos yanked down, briefs dragged with them, hoodie tossed, sweatpants kicked somewhere behind the sofa.

Rob loomed over him, broad shoulders blocking the light from the floor lamp, cock already hardening again.

Simon spread his legs, hooked one ankle behind Rob’s back, and pulled.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” he said, voice urgent with want.

Rob grinned, sharp, predatory, and reached for the lube bottle they kept in the side-table drawer. He slicked himself up slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving Simon’s flushed face.

Then he leaned down, voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble right against Simon’s ear.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Si. So fucking greedy. You couldn’t even wait till the match was over. Interrupted my game, got me hard in front of the lads, swallowed me down like you were starving. Now they’re all going to be ribbing me for weeks.” Rob’s big hand slid under Simon’s thigh, lifting it higher, spreading him wider. “Greedy little sluts need to be punished.”

Before Simon could answer, Rob’s palm cracked down hard on one bare ass cheek. The sharp sting bloomed instantly, hot and bright. Simon gasped, back arching off the cushions.

Rob did it again, harder, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. Simon’s cock jerked against his stomach, leaking.

“Count them,” Rob ordered, voice thick.

“One… two…” Simon managed, voice shaking.

Another smack, this one lower, catching the sensitive underside of his ass. Simon whimpered.

“Three.”

Rob rubbed the reddening skin roughly, then lined himself up, thick head nudging Simon’s entrance.

“Gonna tear you up now, Si,” he growled, thrusting in slow and deep in one long, unrelenting push. “And you’re gonna take every inch while you scream my name… and thank me for punishing you.”

Simon’s head fell back against the armrest, mouth open on a broken moan.

He was already shaking.

And Rob had only just started.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and consenting adults‼️

They lay there for a good half an hour, bodies tangled and sticky, breathing slowly returning to normal. The red cap had finally been tossed onto the nightstand. Logan’s dark hair was messy and damp with sweat. Kurt’s blond high-fade was flattened on one side from being pressed into the sheets. Both of them were still naked, sprawled across the big bed like they owned it.

Kurt reached over lazily and grabbed the half-smoked joint from the ashtray. He relit it, took a slow pull, and passed it to Logan. They passed it back and forth in comfortable silence for a minute, the weed keeping that nice warm buzz going.

“Man, that was fucking good,” Kurt said with a lazy grin, stretching his arms above his head. His abs flexed, still shiny from earlier. “You really wrecked me, bro. My ass is gonna be sore tomorrow at the gym.”

Logan chuckled, one thick arm draped over Kurt’s chest. “Hell yeah I did. You were beggin’ for it the whole time. That hole was grippin’ me like it didn’t want me to pull out.” He took another hit and exhaled toward the ceiling. “But for real, dude… best ass I’ve ever had. No cap.”

Kurt laughed and shoved Logan’s shoulder playfully. “Shut up, you bi slut. You say that every time.”

They both cracked up, the easy best-bro energy still thick between them. Logan sat up a little, propping himself on one elbow. “Yo, what time is that game tonight? The big one. Eagles versus Cowboys, right? We still watching it here?”

“Fuck yeah,” Kurt nodded, checking his phone quickly. “Kickoff’s at eight. We got plenty of time. I’ll order some wings and pizza later so we don’t have to move. You still rooting for the Cowboys like a dumbass?”

Logan grinned, flipping him off. “Cowboys all the way, bro. Dak’s gonna cook tonight. Eagles defense is trash this year. You’ll see.”

“Man, you’re so wrong,” Kurt shot back, laughing. “Loser has to spot the other one on bench press tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Logan said, slapping Kurt’s thigh. “But if my boys win, you’re sucking me off during halftime.”

They kept trash-talking the game for another ten minutes, joking around and arguing about stats and players like they always did. The conversation felt normal, just two dumb jocks chilling after blowing off steam, even though they were both still naked and covered in drying cum and lube.

Eventually the weed and the post-nut calm started shifting back into something hotter. Logan’s hand wandered down Kurt’s abs, lazily stroking his cock until it started filling again. Kurt returned the favor, palming Logan’s thick dick until it was half-hard against his thigh.

Kurt smirked, that cocky little look back on his face. “Alright, bro. Fair’s fair. You got yours. Now it’s my turn to crack that ass.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, but his grin stayed wide and dirty. “Yeah? You think you can handle this hole, gay boy?”

“Bet,” Kurt said, already pushing Logan onto his back. “Flip over. I want you face down first.”

Logan laughed but obeyed, rolling onto his stomach and spreading his thick legs a little. His muscular ass flexed as he got comfortable, the same big, round glutes that Kurt had been staring at in the gym for months. Kurt grabbed the lube again, slicking up his own cock until it was shiny and dripping, then squeezed some between Logan’s cheeks and rubbed it in with two fingers.

“Fuck, bro… that hole’s so tight,” Kurt muttered, pressing a finger inside. “Can tell it’s hardly been used. Feels fucking perfect.”

Logan let out a low grunt, pushing back against the intrusion. “That feels good, bro,” he muttered.

Kurt grinned and added a second finger, scissoring them slowly and stretching the tight ring while he twisted his wrist. “Fuck, your hole’s so tight,” he said again, voice low and hungry. “Can tell it’s hardly been used. Gotta get you ready for this dick, man.”

Logan groaned deeper, hips rocking back to take the fingers. “Yeah… keep going. Open me up. Don’t go easy.”

Kurt worked him for another minute, pumping his fingers in and out and curling them until Logan was breathing heavier and pushing back harder. Only then did Kurt pull his fingers free, slick up his cock with more lube, and line up.

Kurt didn’t waste any more time. He pushed in slow but steady, sinking deep in one long stroke until his hips were flush against Logan’s ass. Both of them groaned loud.

“Shit… so tight, man,” Kurt moaned, gripping Logan’s waist. “Feels even better than I remembered. Can’t believe you’ve only let me hit this once.”

Logan’s hands fisted the sheets. “Yeah? Then quit talking and pound it, bro. Give me that dick.”

Kurt started thrusting, building up speed fast. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room again as he fucked Logan deep and hard, just like Logan had done to him earlier. Logan was grunting with every thrust, pushing his ass back to meet him. That dominant energy shifted into something hungry and needy.

“Fuck yeah… harder, bro,” Logan growled, voice muffled against the pillow. “Wreck my hole. You know I can take it.”

Kurt leaned over him, chest pressed to Logan’s broad back, pounding faster. “That’s it, man. Take every inch. Your ass is gripping me so good… this dick better than any pussy you’ve had, huh?”

Logan let out a rough laugh mixed with a moan. “Fuck you… yeah, maybe. Don’t stop, dude. Breed me if you want.”

They went at it like that for a solid while. Kurt railed his best bro from behind, both of them sweating and cursing, the bed creaking under their combined weight. Kurt’s hips snapped forward again and again, balls slapping loudly against Logan’s ass with every deep thrust. Logan kept moaning and pushing back, his thick muscles flexing as he took it like a champ.

After several minutes Kurt slowed down, breathing hard, and pulled out with a wet pop. “Flip over, bro. I wanna see your face while I fuck you.”

Logan rolled onto his back without hesitation. Kurt grabbed those thick legs and shoved them up and over his shoulders, folding the bigger man in half just like Logan had done to him earlier. He lined up and slammed back in, burying every inch in one smooth stroke.

“Fuuuuck, yeah,” Kurt groaned, eyes locked on Logan’s flushed face. “Look at you taking it so good, man.”

Logan’s head tipped back, a deep moan ripping out of him as Kurt started pounding again. “Shit, right there, bro. Harder… pound that hole.”

Kurt gave it to him, hips blurring as he drilled down into that tight ass. The new angle had Logan’s cock leaking all over his own abs, bouncing with every brutal thrust. They kept going like that, grunting and cursing, the room filled with the wet slap of skin and their filthy encouragement.

“Goddamn, your hole’s sucking me in,” Kurt panted, sweat dripping from his blond high-fade. “So fuckin’ tight… you love getting dicked down by your best bro, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Logan growled, one hand gripping the back of Kurt’s neck. “Don’t pull out. Keep wrecking me, dude.”

Eventually Kurt’s legs started burning from the effort. He pulled out again, breathing heavy, and grinned down at Logan. “C’mere, man. Up against the wall. I wanna fuck you standing.”

Logan’s eyes flashed with that hungry look. He climbed off the bed and let Kurt push him forward until his chest and forearms were pressed hard against the bedroom wall. Kurt stepped in close behind him, spreading Logan’s legs a little wider with his foot, then lined his slick cock up with that stretched, twitching hole.

“Ready for this, bro?” Kurt asked, voice low and teasing.

“Put it in already,” Logan shot back, pushing his ass back.

Kurt gripped Logan’s hips tight and pushed forward, fitting every inch back into that tight muscle ass in one long, steady thrust. Logan groaned loud as his cheek pressed harder against the cool wall. His big frame was pinned in place by Kurt’s smaller but powerful body.

“Fuuuuck… yeah, man,” Logan moaned, voice rough. “That’s deep.”

Kurt didn’t hold back. He started thrusting hard, hips snapping forward so Logan’s chest slapped against the wall with every stroke. One hand stayed on Logan’s hip while the other reached around to stroke his leaking cock in time with the pounding.

“Take it, bro,” Kurt growled against Logan’s ear. “This tight ass is mine right now. Grippin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

Logan was panting, muscles flexing as he took every thrust. “Harder, dude… fuck me like you mean it. Breed that hole. Give me that load.”

Kurt railed him even faster. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed louder than before. Sweat poured down both their bodies as they fucked standing up, Logan pressed hard against the wall, ass bouncing back to meet every brutal thrust.

They stayed like that for a long time, grunting, moaning, and trading filthy jock talk until Kurt’s rhythm started to falter, his balls tightening as he got closer and closer to the edge.

“Gonna fill you up now,” Kurt promised, slamming back in deep.

Logan’s eyes rolled back a little, the red cap long forgotten on the nightstand. “Do it, bro. Dump that load in me. Fuck yeah…”

Kurt picked up the pace, hips snapping hard. Both of them were lost in the same stupid, horny rhythm they’d had all afternoon. The football game was still hours away, but right now the only score that mattered was the one happening between them.

They kept going, grunting and moaning, trading filthy encouragement until Kurt finally buried himself deep and started pumping his load straight into Logan’s guts, breeding his best friend with a long, shaky groan.

“Fuuuuck… take it, man.”

When he finally finished, he pulled Logan back toward the bed and they collapsed. Both of them were breathing hard again, bodies slick and spent once more. Kurt turned his head, grinning like an idiot.

“Still think the Cowboys are gonna win tonight?”

Logan laughed breathlessly, cum leaking slowly from his well-fucked hole. “Fuck yeah, bro. 100%. And when they do, your mouth is mine.”

They both cracked up, already reaching for the joint again.

‼️All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and are consenting adults.‼️

‼️Shared again because I forgot to add the 18+ disclaimer!‼️

The apartment door slammed shut behind them, the air still thick with the scent of iron and sweat from the gym. Kurt, with his blond high-fade still spiked from the workout and that faint stubble mustache glistening, dropped his gym bag with a thud and grinned at Logan, the dark-haired stud still rocking his backward red cap, veins popping across those massive shoulders.

“Fuck, bro,” Kurt laughed, peeling off his soaked tank top and tossing it on the couch. His carved abs flexed under the apartment lights, skin shiny with leftover pump. “Leg day wrecked me. But look at you, man. You still lookin’ like a goddamn tank. That pump’s insane.”

Logan smirked, kicking the door closed and yanking his own shirt off in one smooth motion. The red cap stayed on, backward as always. “Yeah? You been eyein’ me the whole set, huh? Got me half-hard just watchin’ you squat, bro. Sweaty as fuck and bouncin’ those cheeks.”

They both cracked up, that easy best-bro laugh, but the heat was already there, thick and familiar, the kind that always hit after a heavy session. Kurt grabbed the pre-rolled joint from the coffee table, lit it with the lighter they kept in the drawer, and took a long, deep pull before passing it over.

Logan took it, eyes locked on Kurt’s as he inhaled, holding it in his broad chest. “Shit, this is good. Hits right after leg day.” He exhaled a thick cloud, then handed it back, stepping closer until their bare chests almost brushed. The weed kicked in fast, warm and fuzzy, making everything feel slower and hornier at the same time.

Kurt hit it again, eyes half-lidded, then grinned that cocky little smirk. “Man… I’m so fuckin’ horny right now. Gym always does this to me. You down, bro?”

“Hell yeah,” Logan growled, voice low and rough as he palmed the front of his gym shorts, already half-hard. “Been thinkin’ about your mouth since the third set. Get over here, gay boy. Suck me first.”

They crashed onto the couch together, laughing and shoving like idiots, shorts shoved down in seconds. Kurt dropped to his knees between Logan’s thick thighs, the bi stud leaning back with the joint still pinched between two fingers. Kurt didn’t tease. He dove in, wrapping his lips around Logan’s thick cock and sinking down in one wet, hungry motion.

“Fuuuuck yeah, bro,” Logan groaned, head tipping back, red cap tilting. One big hand landed on Kurt’s blond head, not pushing, just holding. “That’s it. Just like that. Shit, your throat’s so warm after the gym. Swallow me, man.”

Kurt hummed around him, taking him deeper, spit already dripping down the shaft as he bobbed. The weed made it feel even better. Every vein, every throb, every salty taste felt amplified. Logan’s heavy balls rested against his chin as he worked, eyes watering but never stopping.

After a solid minute Logan pulled him off with a wet pop, grinning. “My turn, you slutty little gym rat. Switch.”

They flipped positions fast. Kurt flopped back on the couch, legs spread wide, cock rock-hard and leaking against his abs. Logan yanked the red cap lower and leaned in, mouth open, tongue flat as he dragged it up the underside of Kurt’s dick before swallowing him down in one greedy go.

“Shit, yes, man!” Kurt moaned, hips bucking. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. Suck it just like that. Yeah, use that tongue. Goddamn, you’re good at this for a bi dude.”

Logan chuckled around his cock, the vibration making Kurt’s toes curl. He worked him sloppy and deep, big hands gripping Kurt’s thighs, cap still backward as his dark hair peeked out. Spit ran down Kurt’s balls while Logan bobbed, eyes flicking up with that cocky, half-lidded stare.

They traded back and forth twice more. Kurt sucked Logan until the bigger man was panting and cursing, then Logan deepthroated Kurt until his blond bro was gripping the couch cushions and moaning like a porn star. The living room smelled like weed, sweat, and spit. Their bodies were still shiny from the gym, muscles flexing every time they moved.

Finally Logan pulled off with a filthy grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bedroom. Now. I need to fuck you proper, bro. Couch is too small for what I’m about to do to that ass.”

Kurt laughed breathlessly, cock twitching hard against his stomach. “Fuck yeah, man. Lead the way.”

They stood up together, shorts abandoned on the floor, hands already groping and slapping at each other’s asses as they stumbled down the short hallway toward the bedroom, still half-hard and laughing like the dumb horny jocks they were.

They tumbled into the bedroom like the horny idiots they were, the door banging against the wall as Logan shoved Kurt backward onto the king-sized bed. Kurt landed on his back with a laugh, legs spread, cock still rock-hard and leaking from the couch session. Logan was right on top of him in a heartbeat, red cap still backward, crashing their mouths together in a sloppy, weed-fueled make-out.

“Fuck yeah, bro,” Logan growled against Kurt’s lips, tongues sliding wet and hungry. Their sweaty, gym-pumped bodies pressed tight. Thick pecs rubbed together, abs slid against abs, cocks trapped between them and already humping like animals in heat. Logan’s bigger frame pinned Kurt down, hips grinding hard, their shafts sliding together in a messy rhythm of spit and pre-cum. “So fuckin’ hot, man. Your dick feels huge against mine.”

Kurt moaned into the kiss, hands grabbing Logan’s ass and pulling him closer. “Yeah? Keep humpin’ me like that, dude. Shit, you’re leakin’ all over me.”

They made out for a solid minute, all tongue and teeth and desperate grunts, hips rolling faster, the bed creaking under them. Then Logan pulled back just enough to flip around, that cocky grin flashing as he swung a thick thigh over Kurt’s chest.

“Sixty-nine time, gay boy. Let’s taste each other.”

Kurt didn’t need telling twice. They locked into position fast. Logan’s heavy cock slapped against Kurt’s face while Kurt’s own dick disappeared down Logan’s throat again. They sucked each other deep and sloppy, moans vibrating around thick shafts, balls slapping chins, spit running everywhere. The room filled with wet sounds and muffled “fuck yeah, bro”s as they bobbed and swallowed in perfect sync.

After a few minutes Logan popped off Kurt’s cock with a wet smack, breathing hard. He shifted again, manhandling Kurt onto his back and shoving those muscular legs up toward his chest. Kurt’s smooth, hairless hole was right there, tight, pink, and already twitching from all the teasing.

Logan’s eyes darkened with hunger. He dove in without warning, burying his face between Kurt’s cheeks and dragging his tongue across the tight pucker.

“Fuuuuck, bro,” Logan groaned, voice thick and muffled as he started munching like a man starved. His tongue circled, then pushed inside, lapping and sucking with loud, hungry noises. “This hole, man. Goddamn. Tastiest fuckin’ hole I’ve ever had. So tight and smooth. Way better than any pussy, I swear.”

Kurt’s back arched hard, a loud moan ripping out of him as Logan’s tongue fucked deeper. “Shit, Logan! Yeah, eat it, dude. Oh fuck, your mouth feels so good back there.”

Logan growled, gripping Kurt’s ass cheeks and spreading them wider, really going for it. Sloppy, wet, greedy munching had his chin glistening. “Mmmph. Seriously, bro. Tightest little hole on the planet. Girls got nothin’ on this. I could eat you for hours. So sweet and perfect. You love it when I tongue-fuck you like this, don’t you?”

He dove back in even harder, tongue thrusting and swirling, one hand reaching up to stroke Kurt’s leaking cock while he devoured that hairless ass like it was his favorite meal.

Kurt was a moaning mess beneath him, fingers gripping the sheets, hips twitching as Logan kept talking dirty between long, filthy licks.

“Best fuckin’ hole ever, man. And it’s all mine tonight.”

Logan growled against Kurt’s twitching hole, giving it one last long, sloppy lick before pulling back just enough to flip himself onto his back in one smooth, powerful motion. The red cap stayed backward on his head, dark hair messy under it, his massive chest heaving as he grinned up at Kurt like a hungry wolf.

“C’mere, bro,” he ordered, voice thick and rough, grabbing Kurt’s hips with both big hands. “Ride my fuckin’ face. I want that perfect hairless hole sittin’ right on my tongue.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide with that horny little smirk, but he didn’t hesitate. He straddled Logan’s broad chest and shuffled forward until his knees planted on either side of the bigger man’s head. Logan’s hands locked onto Kurt’s thick ass cheeks, yanking him down hard so that smooth, pink pucker pressed right against his mouth.

“Fuuuuck yeah, man,” Logan moaned the second Kurt’s weight settled on him. His tongue shot out instantly, licking a fat stripe up the crack before circling the tight ring and pushing inside like he owned it. “That’s it, gay boy. Ride my face. Grind that tasty little hole on me.”

Kurt let out a shaky groan, hands bracing on the headboard as he started rolling his hips, slowly at first, then faster, fucking himself on Logan’s eager tongue. The bi stud went wild underneath him, munching loud and sloppy, sucking on the rim, tongue-fucking deep while his nose pressed against Kurt’s taint.

“Shit, Logan… oh my god,” Kurt panted, voice cracking as he rocked harder, ass smothering Logan’s face. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this, bro. Eat it. Yeah, just like that.”

Logan’s muffled growl vibrated right through him. He slapped Kurt’s ass hard, encouraging him to go faster, then pulled off just long enough to gasp out more filthy praise between breaths.

“Goddamn, this hole, dude. So tight and smooth, tastes like fuckin’ candy. Way better than any girl I’ve ever been with. Ride it harder, bro. Smother me with that perfect ass. I could eat you all night like this.”

Kurt’s cock was leaking all over Logan’s chest as he obeyed, grinding down with shameless little moans, lost in the wet heat of Logan’s mouth devouring him completely. The bed creaked under them, the room filled with the obscene sounds of Logan’s hungry munching and Kurt’s breathy “fuck yeah, man”s.

Kurt yanked himself up off Logan’s tongue with a wet pop, breathing hard, his hairless hole glistening and twitching from the relentless munching. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of lube they always kept there, and popped the cap with a shaky grin.

“Bro, you gotta fuck my ass,” Kurt panted, voice thick with need. “I need that big dick, man.”

Logan’s eyes lit up, that dominant bi smirk spreading across his face as he sat up, red cap still backward and crooked. “Fuck yeah, bro. I’ll dick you good, man.”

Logan took the lube from him, squirting a thick load onto his own rock-hard cock and stroking it slow and shiny. He added more to his fingers and reached between Kurt’s cheeks, slicking up that smooth, hungry hole with two quick, messy circles. Kurt moaned at the cool touch, already pushing back against the fingers.

Kurt didn’t wait. He straddled Logan’s lap, one hand bracing on that massive chest while the other reached down and grabbed Logan’s thick, lubed-up dick, lining it up right against his entrance.

“Fuck yeah, bro,” Kurt groaned as he sank down in one slow, greedy motion, taking every inch until his ass was flush against Logan’s hips. “So fuckin’ big… fills me up perfect.”

Logan’s head tipped back, a deep grunt ripping out of him. “Shit, man. Tight as hell. Ride it, gay boy. Use that hole on me.”

Kurt started bouncing, hands planted on Logan’s pecs, ass slapping down loud and rhythmic. They went at it hard, grunting, groaning, cursing like the dumb horny jocks they were.

“Fuck yeah… yeah, man… take it,” Logan growled, hips bucking up to meet every drop, hands gripping Kurt’s waist hard enough to leave marks.

“Goddamn, bro. Your dick’s hittin’ so deep,” Kurt moaned, riding faster, sweat flying off his blond high-fade as their bodies clapped together.

They fucked like that for a solid minute, all sloppy grunts and “fuck yeah, bro”s, the bed creaking wildly under them, lube and pre-cum making everything slick and sloppy.

Then Logan flipped them in one powerful move, rolling Kurt onto his back and shoving those thick legs up and over his broad shoulders. Kurt’s hole was still stretched wide around him as Logan settled in deep, red cap tilted low, dark eyes locked on Kurt’s flushed face.

“Gonna wreck this hole now, man,” Logan promised with a filthy grin, hips already starting to snap forward.

Logan grinned down at him, that cocky dominant smirk locked in place under the backward red cap, and delivered exactly what he promised.

He slammed in hard with deep, powerful strokes that made the bed slam against the wall and Kurt’s whole body jolt. Logan’s thick cock pistoned in and out of that slick, stretched hole like a machine, hips snapping with raw gym-bro power, balls slapping loud against Kurt’s ass on every thrust.

“Fuck yeah, man. Pound my tight ass,” Kurt moaned, voice cracking as his legs bounced over Logan’s shoulders. “Give me that big dick, bro!”

“Hell yeah, gay boy,” Logan growled, sweat dripping from his dark hair onto Kurt’s chest. He leaned in harder, folding Kurt almost in half, pounding even deeper. “This hole is takin’ every inch. Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so good. You love gettin’ wrecked, don’t you?”

“Harder, bro!” Kurt’s head thrashed against the pillow, blond high-fade messy, abs flexing every time Logan drilled him. “So deep… goddamn your dick feels huge. Pound me harder, man. I can take it!”

Logan’s laugh came out rough and filthy as he picked up speed, hips blurring, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “That’s my boy. Tightest fuckin’ hole I ever had. Way better than any pussy. You’re squeezin’ me like you don’t wanna let go.”

They were both lost in it, grunting, groaning, cursing like animals. Kurt’s hands gripped Logan’s massive shoulders, nails digging in while his cock bounced untouched between them, leaking all over his own abs. Logan’s thick pecs and biceps flexed with every brutal thrust, red cap still somehow staying on as he railed his best bro into the mattress.

“Fuck yeah… fuck yeah, bro,” they kept repeating between moans, eyes locked, stupid horny grins on both their faces, bodies shiny with sweat and completely in sync.

Logan wasn’t slowing down. He was owning that ass exactly like Kurt needed, pounding him senseless and loving every second of it.

Logan grinned down at Kurt’s wrecked face for one more brutal thrust, then pulled out slow and teasing, his thick cock sliding free with a wet pop. Kurt’s greedy, hairless hole chased it instantly, clenching and winking like it couldn’t stand being empty for even a second.

“Hey bro, put it back in,” Kurt whined, voice all needy and breathy, hips twitching back toward that dick.

Logan chuckled low, that dominant bi smirk still plastered on his face under the backward red cap. “Chill, bro. You’ll get it back soon.”

He grabbed Kurt’s hips with both big hands, flipped him over like he weighed nothing, and yanked him up into a kneeling position on the bed. Kurt’s chest dropped to the mattress, ass up high, back arched like a total slut. Logan didn’t waste time. He lined up and shoved back in hard, burying every inch in one smooth, powerful stroke.

“Fuck, bro… I love this ass, man,” Logan groaned, hands gripping Kurt’s waist tight as he started pounding again, deep and relentless.

“Fuck yes, bro. Fuck my fat ass!” Kurt moaned loud, pushing back to meet every thrust, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the bedroom. “Breed my slutty hole, dude!”

Logan’s hips snapped forward faster, red cap tilted low, sweat flying off his chest as he railed his best bro from behind. “That’s it, gay boy… take every fuckin’ inch. This hole was made for my dick. Tight, smooth, and beggin’ to get bred.”

Kurt was a moaning mess, face buried in the sheets, ass bouncing back greedily while he kept chanting, “Yeah, man… harder, bro… breed me, fuck yeah…” Their bodies clapped together loud and filthy, the bed creaking like it might break, both of them lost in that perfect heat.

Logan lost it completely.

His hips stuttered hard, that thick cock buried to the hilt as he slammed in one last time and held there, growling loud enough to shake the walls.

“Fuuuuck, bro. Gonna cum!”

He dumped his load deep, thick ropes pulsing straight into Kurt’s guts, breeding his best bro exactly like he’d begged for. Logan’s whole body flexed and shook through it, red cap still somehow on, sweat dripping off his nose onto Kurt’s back while he kept grinding through the last spurts.

“Shit… takin’ every drop, man… good fuckin’ boy…”

Then he collapsed forward, heavy and spent, right on top of Kurt. Kurt let out a wrecked little laugh and flopped down flat on the mattress beside him, both of them breathing like they’d just finished the hardest leg day of their lives. Their sweaty, cum-slick bodies stuck together, chests heaving, the room smelling like weed, lube, and pure sex.

For a long minute the only sounds were their heavy breathing and the occasional dumb little chuckle.

Kurt finally pushed himself up on one elbow, blond high-fade messy, that cocky little smirk back on his face as he looked over at his best bro. His voice came out low and teasing, still a little breathless.

“So bro? You gonna let me crack your ass now?”

The apartment door slammed shut behind them, the air still thick with the scent of iron and sweat from the gym. Kurt, with his blond high-fade still spiked from the workout and that faint stubble mustache glistening, dropped his gym bag with a thud and grinned at Logan, the dark-haired stud still rocking his backward red cap, veins popping across those massive shoulders.

“Fuck, bro,” Kurt laughed, peeling off his soaked tank top and tossing it on the couch. His carved abs flexed under the apartment lights, skin shiny with leftover pump. “Leg day wrecked me. But look at you, man. You still lookin’ like a goddamn tank. That pump’s insane.”

Logan smirked, kicking the door closed and yanking his own shirt off in one smooth motion. The red cap stayed on, backward as always. “Yeah? You been eyein’ me the whole set, huh? Got me half-hard just watchin’ you squat, bro. Sweaty as fuck and bouncin’ those cheeks.”

They both cracked up, that easy best-bro laugh, but the heat was already there, thick and familiar, the kind that always hit after a heavy session. Kurt grabbed the pre-rolled joint from the coffee table, lit it with the lighter they kept in the drawer, and took a long, deep pull before passing it over.

Logan took it, eyes locked on Kurt’s as he inhaled, holding it in his broad chest. “Shit, this is good. Hits right after leg day.” He exhaled a thick cloud, then handed it back, stepping closer until their bare chests almost brushed. The weed kicked in fast, warm and fuzzy, making everything feel slower and hornier at the same time.

Kurt hit it again, eyes half-lidded, then grinned that cocky little smirk. “Man… I’m so fuckin’ horny right now. Gym always does this to me. You down, bro?”

“Hell yeah,” Logan growled, voice low and rough as he palmed the front of his gym shorts, already half-hard. “Been thinkin’ about your mouth since the third set. Get over here, gay boy. Suck me first.”

They crashed onto the couch together, laughing and shoving like idiots, shorts shoved down in seconds. Kurt dropped to his knees between Logan’s thick thighs, the bi stud leaning back with the joint still pinched between two fingers. Kurt didn’t tease. He dove in, wrapping his lips around Logan’s thick cock and sinking down in one wet, hungry motion.

“Fuuuuck yeah, bro,” Logan groaned, head tipping back, red cap tilting. One big hand landed on Kurt’s blond head, not pushing, just holding. “That’s it. Just like that. Shit, your throat’s so warm after the gym. Swallow me, man.”

Kurt hummed around him, taking him deeper, spit already dripping down the shaft as he bobbed. The weed made it feel even better. Every vein, every throb, every salty taste felt amplified. Logan’s heavy balls rested against his chin as he worked, eyes watering but never stopping.

After a solid minute Logan pulled him off with a wet pop, grinning. “My turn, you slutty little gym rat. Switch.”

They flipped positions fast. Kurt flopped back on the couch, legs spread wide, cock rock-hard and leaking against his abs. Logan yanked the red cap lower and leaned in, mouth open, tongue flat as he dragged it up the underside of Kurt’s dick before swallowing him down in one greedy go.

“Shit, yes, man!” Kurt moaned, hips bucking. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. Suck it just like that. Yeah, use that tongue. Goddamn, you’re good at this for a bi dude.”

Logan chuckled around his cock, the vibration making Kurt’s toes curl. He worked him sloppy and deep, big hands gripping Kurt’s thighs, cap still backward as his dark hair peeked out. Spit ran down Kurt’s balls while Logan bobbed, eyes flicking up with that cocky, half-lidded stare.

They traded back and forth twice more. Kurt sucked Logan until the bigger man was panting and cursing, then Logan deepthroated Kurt until his blond bro was gripping the couch cushions and moaning like a porn star. The living room smelled like weed, sweat, and spit. Their bodies were still shiny from the gym, muscles flexing every time they moved.

Finally Logan pulled off with a filthy grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bedroom. Now. I need to fuck you proper, bro. Couch is too small for what I’m about to do to that ass.”

Kurt laughed breathlessly, cock twitching hard against his stomach. “Fuck yeah, man. Lead the way.”

They stood up together, shorts abandoned on the floor, hands already groping and slapping at each other’s asses as they stumbled down the short hallway toward the bedroom, still half-hard and laughing like the dumb horny jocks they were.

They tumbled into the bedroom like the horny idiots they were, the door banging against the wall as Logan shoved Kurt backward onto the king-sized bed. Kurt landed on his back with a laugh, legs spread, cock still rock-hard and leaking from the couch session. Logan was right on top of him in a heartbeat, red cap still backward, crashing their mouths together in a sloppy, weed-fueled make-out.

“Fuck yeah, bro,” Logan growled against Kurt’s lips, tongues sliding wet and hungry. Their sweaty, gym-pumped bodies pressed tight. Thick pecs rubbed together, abs slid against abs, cocks trapped between them and already humping like animals in heat. Logan’s bigger frame pinned Kurt down, hips grinding hard, their shafts sliding together in a messy rhythm of spit and pre-cum. “So fuckin’ hot, man. Your dick feels huge against mine.”

Kurt moaned into the kiss, hands grabbing Logan’s ass and pulling him closer. “Yeah? Keep humpin’ me like that, dude. Shit, you’re leakin’ all over me.”

They made out for a solid minute, all tongue and teeth and desperate grunts, hips rolling faster, the bed creaking under them. Then Logan pulled back just enough to flip around, that cocky grin flashing as he swung a thick thigh over Kurt’s chest.

“Sixty-nine time, gay boy. Let’s taste each other.”

Kurt didn’t need telling twice. They locked into position fast. Logan’s heavy cock slapped against Kurt’s face while Kurt’s own dick disappeared down Logan’s throat again. They sucked each other deep and sloppy, moans vibrating around thick shafts, balls slapping chins, spit running everywhere. The room filled with wet sounds and muffled “fuck yeah, bro”s as they bobbed and swallowed in perfect sync.

After a few minutes Logan popped off Kurt’s cock with a wet smack, breathing hard. He shifted again, manhandling Kurt onto his back and shoving those muscular legs up toward his chest. Kurt’s smooth, hairless hole was right there, tight, pink, and already twitching from all the teasing.

Logan’s eyes darkened with hunger. He dove in without warning, burying his face between Kurt’s cheeks and dragging his tongue across the tight pucker.

“Fuuuuck, bro,” Logan groaned, voice thick and muffled as he started munching like a man starved. His tongue circled, then pushed inside, lapping and sucking with loud, hungry noises. “This hole, man. Goddamn. Tastiest fuckin’ hole I’ve ever had. So tight and smooth. Way better than any pussy, I swear.”

Kurt’s back arched hard, a loud moan ripping out of him as Logan’s tongue fucked deeper. “Shit, Logan! Yeah, eat it, dude. Oh fuck, your mouth feels so good back there.”

Logan growled, gripping Kurt’s ass cheeks and spreading them wider, really going for it. Sloppy, wet, greedy munching had his chin glistening. “Mmmph. Seriously, bro. Tightest little hole on the planet. Girls got nothin’ on this. I could eat you for hours. So sweet and perfect. You love it when I tongue-fuck you like this, don’t you?”

He dove back in even harder, tongue thrusting and swirling, one hand reaching up to stroke Kurt’s leaking cock while he devoured that hairless ass like it was his favorite meal.

Kurt was a moaning mess beneath him, fingers gripping the sheets, hips twitching as Logan kept talking dirty between long, filthy licks.

“Best fuckin’ hole ever, man. And it’s all mine tonight.”

Logan growled against Kurt’s twitching hole, giving it one last long, sloppy lick before pulling back just enough to flip himself onto his back in one smooth, powerful motion. The red cap stayed backward on his head, dark hair messy under it, his massive chest heaving as he grinned up at Kurt like a hungry wolf.

“C’mere, bro,” he ordered, voice thick and rough, grabbing Kurt’s hips with both big hands. “Ride my fuckin’ face. I want that perfect hairless hole sittin’ right on my tongue.”

Kurt’s eyes went wide with that horny little smirk, but he didn’t hesitate. He straddled Logan’s broad chest and shuffled forward until his knees planted on either side of the bigger man’s head. Logan’s hands locked onto Kurt’s thick ass cheeks, yanking him down hard so that smooth, pink pucker pressed right against his mouth.

“Fuuuuck yeah, man,” Logan moaned the second Kurt’s weight settled on him. His tongue shot out instantly, licking a fat stripe up the crack before circling the tight ring and pushing inside like he owned it. “That’s it, gay boy. Ride my face. Grind that tasty little hole on me.”

Kurt let out a shaky groan, hands bracing on the headboard as he started rolling his hips, slowly at first, then faster, fucking himself on Logan’s eager tongue. The bi stud went wild underneath him, munching loud and sloppy, sucking on the rim, tongue-fucking deep while his nose pressed against Kurt’s taint.

“Shit, Logan… oh my god,” Kurt panted, voice cracking as he rocked harder, ass smothering Logan’s face. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this, bro. Eat it. Yeah, just like that.”

Logan’s muffled growl vibrated right through him. He slapped Kurt’s ass hard, encouraging him to go faster, then pulled off just long enough to gasp out more filthy praise between breaths.

“Goddamn, this hole, dude. So tight and smooth, tastes like fuckin’ candy. Way better than any girl I’ve ever been with. Ride it harder, bro. Smother me with that perfect ass. I could eat you all night like this.”

Kurt’s cock was leaking all over Logan’s chest as he obeyed, grinding down with shameless little moans, lost in the wet heat of Logan’s mouth devouring him completely. The bed creaked under them, the room filled with the obscene sounds of Logan’s hungry munching and Kurt’s breathy “fuck yeah, man”s.

Kurt yanked himself up off Logan’s tongue with a wet pop, breathing hard, his hairless hole glistening and twitching from the relentless munching. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of lube they always kept there, and popped the cap with a shaky grin.

“Bro, you gotta fuck my ass,” Kurt panted, voice thick with need. “I need that big dick, man.”

Logan’s eyes lit up, that dominant bi smirk spreading across his face as he sat up, red cap still backward and crooked. “Fuck yeah, bro. I’ll dick you good, man.”

Logan took the lube from him, squirting a thick load onto his own rock-hard cock and stroking it slow and shiny. He added more to his fingers and reached between Kurt’s cheeks, slicking up that smooth, hungry hole with two quick, messy circles. Kurt moaned at the cool touch, already pushing back against the fingers.

Kurt didn’t wait. He straddled Logan’s lap, one hand bracing on that massive chest while the other reached down and grabbed Logan’s thick, lubed-up dick, lining it up right against his entrance.

“Fuck yeah, bro,” Kurt groaned as he sank down in one slow, greedy motion, taking every inch until his ass was flush against Logan’s hips. “So fuckin’ big… fills me up perfect.”

Logan’s head tipped back, a deep grunt ripping out of him. “Shit, man. Tight as hell. Ride it, gay boy. Use that hole on me.”

Kurt started bouncing, hands planted on Logan’s pecs, ass slapping down loud and rhythmic. They went at it hard, grunting, groaning, cursing like the dumb horny jocks they were.

“Fuck yeah… yeah, man… take it,” Logan growled, hips bucking up to meet every drop, hands gripping Kurt’s waist hard enough to leave marks.

“Goddamn, bro. Your dick’s hittin’ so deep,” Kurt moaned, riding faster, sweat flying off his blond high-fade as their bodies clapped together.

They fucked like that for a solid minute, all sloppy grunts and “fuck yeah, bro”s, the bed creaking wildly under them, lube and pre-cum making everything slick and sloppy.

Then Logan flipped them in one powerful move, rolling Kurt onto his back and shoving those thick legs up and over his broad shoulders. Kurt’s hole was still stretched wide around him as Logan settled in deep, red cap tilted low, dark eyes locked on Kurt’s flushed face.

“Gonna wreck this hole now, man,” Logan promised with a filthy grin, hips already starting to snap forward.

Logan grinned down at him, that cocky dominant smirk locked in place under the backward red cap, and delivered exactly what he promised.

He slammed in hard with deep, powerful strokes that made the bed slam against the wall and Kurt’s whole body jolt. Logan’s thick cock pistoned in and out of that slick, stretched hole like a machine, hips snapping with raw gym-bro power, balls slapping loud against Kurt’s ass on every thrust.

“Fuck yeah, man. Pound my tight ass,” Kurt moaned, voice cracking as his legs bounced over Logan’s shoulders. “Give me that big dick, bro!”

“Hell yeah, gay boy,” Logan growled, sweat dripping from his dark hair onto Kurt’s chest. He leaned in harder, folding Kurt almost in half, pounding even deeper. “This hole is takin’ every inch. Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so good. You love gettin’ wrecked, don’t you?”

“Harder, bro!” Kurt’s head thrashed against the pillow, blond high-fade messy, abs flexing every time Logan drilled him. “So deep… goddamn your dick feels huge. Pound me harder, man. I can take it!”

Logan’s laugh came out rough and filthy as he picked up speed, hips blurring, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “That’s my boy. Tightest fuckin’ hole I ever had. Way better than any pussy. You’re squeezin’ me like you don’t wanna let go.”

They were both lost in it, grunting, groaning, cursing like animals. Kurt’s hands gripped Logan’s massive shoulders, nails digging in while his cock bounced untouched between them, leaking all over his own abs. Logan’s thick pecs and biceps flexed with every brutal thrust, red cap still somehow staying on as he railed his best bro into the mattress.

“Fuck yeah… fuck yeah, bro,” they kept repeating between moans, eyes locked, stupid horny grins on both their faces, bodies shiny with sweat and completely in sync.

Logan wasn’t slowing down. He was owning that ass exactly like Kurt needed, pounding him senseless and loving every second of it.

Logan grinned down at Kurt’s wrecked face for one more brutal thrust, then pulled out slow and teasing, his thick cock sliding free with a wet pop. Kurt’s greedy, hairless hole chased it instantly, clenching and winking like it couldn’t stand being empty for even a second.

“Hey bro, put it back in,” Kurt whined, voice all needy and breathy, hips twitching back toward that dick.

Logan chuckled low, that dominant bi smirk still plastered on his face under the backward red cap. “Chill, bro. You’ll get it back soon.”

He grabbed Kurt’s hips with both big hands, flipped him over like he weighed nothing, and yanked him up into a kneeling position on the bed. Kurt’s chest dropped to the mattress, ass up high, back arched like a total slut. Logan didn’t waste time. He lined up and shoved back in hard, burying every inch in one smooth, powerful stroke.

“Fuck, bro… I love this ass, man,” Logan groaned, hands gripping Kurt’s waist tight as he started pounding again, deep and relentless.

“Fuck yes, bro. Fuck my fat ass!” Kurt moaned loud, pushing back to meet every thrust, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the bedroom. “Breed my slutty hole, dude!”

Logan’s hips snapped forward faster, red cap tilted low, sweat flying off his chest as he railed his best bro from behind. “That’s it, gay boy… take every fuckin’ inch. This hole was made for my dick. Tight, smooth, and beggin’ to get bred.”

Kurt was a moaning mess, face buried in the sheets, ass bouncing back greedily while he kept chanting, “Yeah, man… harder, bro… breed me, fuck yeah…” Their bodies clapped together loud and filthy, the bed creaking like it might break, both of them lost in that perfect heat.

Logan lost it completely.

His hips stuttered hard, that thick cock buried to the hilt as he slammed in one last time and held there, growling loud enough to shake the walls.

“Fuuuuck, bro. Gonna cum!”

He dumped his load deep, thick ropes pulsing straight into Kurt’s guts, breeding his best bro exactly like he’d begged for. Logan’s whole body flexed and shook through it, red cap still somehow on, sweat dripping off his nose onto Kurt’s back while he kept grinding through the last spurts.

“Shit… takin’ every drop, man… good fuckin’ boy…”

Then he collapsed forward, heavy and spent, right on top of Kurt. Kurt let out a wrecked little laugh and flopped down flat on the mattress beside him, both of them breathing like they’d just finished the hardest leg day of their lives. Their sweaty, cum-slick bodies stuck together, chests heaving, the room smelling like weed, lube, and pure sex.

For a long minute the only sounds were their heavy breathing and the occasional dumb little chuckle.

Kurt finally pushed himself up on one elbow, blond high-fade messy, that cocky little smirk back on his face as he looked over at his best bro. His voice came out low and teasing, still a little breathless.

“So bro? You gonna let me crack your ass now?”