Betrayed Then Seduced
The alarm blared at 5:47 AM like it always did.
I swiped my phone to silent and lay there in the gray pre-dawn light, Sebastian's breathing soft and even beside me. His back was to me. Again. The sheet had slipped down to his waist, and I could see the faint red marks on his hips. Fingerprints. I'd noticed them two nights ago and said nothing.
My balls ached.
Not the dull soreness from a long shift. Something sharper. Fuller. Five days of nothing. Five days of Sebastian rolling away, mumbling about exhaustion, about soreness, about big deadlines.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a long moment, head in my hands.
The house was quiet. Mike's room was silent.
I showered. I dressed in my hi-vis vest and work boots. I kissed Sebastian's temple. He stirred just enough to mumble "have a good day" before sinking back into sleep.
I walked out the front door, got in my truck, and drove two blocks before pulling over.
Then I called in sick.
"Food poisoning," I told my supervisor, forcing a groan into my voice. "Been up all night. Can't be more than thirty feet from a bathroom."
He bought it. Told me to rest up, drink fluids, come back tomorrow.
I parked the truck on a side street three houses down, tucked behind the Johnsons' overgrown hedges where no one would spot it. I sat there for almost an hour, my mind racing a million thoughts, hoping that I was just insecure, that it was all in my head. The walk back to the house took four minutes. Mike would be up and doing his morning gym routine by now. My boots crunched on the gravel driveway, and I winced at every sound.
The front door opened without a sound. I'd oiled the hinges myself last summer.
Inside, the air was already thick. That same ripe, masculine smell I'd noticed yesterday. Sweat and something muskier. The curtains were drawn. The living room was empty, TV dark, game controllers scattered on the coffee table.
Then I heard it.
Voices. Low. Coming from downstairs.
The basement gym door was cracked open maybe three inches. A sliver of yellow light cut across the hallway floor. My heart slammed against my ribs as I crept closer, each footstep measured, silent.
Mike's voice drifted up first. That easy, commanding drawl.
"...knew it the second I saw you, faggot. The way you looked at me. Those hungry little eyes."
My breath stopped.
Sebastian's voice. Softer. Breathier. "Yes, Master."
Master.
The word hit me like a fist to the gut. My cock twitched hard against my zipper, and I hated how fast my body betrayed me. I pressed myself against the wall beside the door, heart hammering, and peered through the gap.
The gym was dim, lit only by the single bare bulb over the weight rack. Mike sat on the weight bench, legs spread wide, thick hairy thighs straining against his gray sweat shorts. His chest was sheened with sweat, dark fur matted down, that soft belly resting over his waistband. He looked like he'd just finished a brutal set. Relaxed. In control. A king on his throne.
Sebastian was on his knees between Mike's spread thighs.
My boyfriend.
The man I'd been inside more times than I could count. The man whose moans I'd memorized. On his knees. In a crop top that barely covered his nipples. And a pair of impossibly tight shorts that I'd never seen before.
Mike reached down and cupped Sebastian's chin, tilting his face up. "You've been such a good little slut this week, Seb. My perfect faggot whore."
Sebastian's eyes fluttered. His lips parted. "Thank you, Master."
The casual degradation. The way Sebastian's voice went soft and pliant around that word. My hand moved to my crotch without thinking, palming the ache.
"Show me how much you want it," Mike commanded, leaning back on his palms. The bench creaked under his weight. "I've been sweating my ass off down here. Work up that hunger, fag."
Sebastian didn't hesitate.
He leaned forward and pressed his open mouth against the front of Mike's shorts, right over the massive bulge straining the gray fabric. A dark wet spot spread as Sebastian's tongue worked the material, licking and mouthing the outline of Mike's cock through the thin cotton. Up and down. Tracing the ridge of the head. Suckling at the fabric like he was trying to drink through it.
I couldn't look away.
Mike let out a low, satisfied chuckle. "Look at you. Fucking starving for it." He ran a hand through Sebastian's hair, not gentle. "I sensed it in you the second I walked through that door, faggot. You need cock like you need water. Like you need air. Don't you?"
Sebastian pulled back just long enough to gasp, "Yes, Master. I need it."
"Tell me how much."
"More than anything." Sebastian's voice cracked. Desperate. "I think about it constantly. At work. In bed. I can't, I can't function without it."
Mike's grin widened. "Have you done everything I asked, whore?"
Sebastian sat back on his heels, still on his knees, looking up at Mike with glassy eyes. A string of saliva connected his lower lip to the wet patch on Mike's shorts. "Yes, Master."
"Everything?"
"I've stopped sleeping with Simon."
The words. The words. They should have broken something inside me. Instead my cock leaked a dark spot through my boxers, and my breathing went shallow and ragged.
Mike's thumb traced Sebastian's cheekbone. Almost tender. "Good boy. Your hole is mine now, isn't it?"
"Yes, Master. Only yours." Sebastian's voice trembled with something that sounded terrifyingly like relief. Like confession. "I haven't let him touch me in five days."
I thought about every rejection. Every soft kiss and rolled shoulder and murmured excuse. It wasn't exhaustion. It wasn't soreness.
It was him.
Mike was claiming territory I didn't even know could be taken.
"Now show me how bad you want it," Mike said. His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Beg."
Sebastian's whole body seemed to vibrate. His hands gripped his own thighs, knuckles white. "Please, Master. Please. I need your cock."
"Where do you want it?"
"In my pussy, Master." No hesitation. No shame. "Please. I need you inside me. I've been empty all morning. I can't— please—"
"Show me that hungry pussy, faggot."
Sebastian scrambled to his feet and turned around. His fingers hooked into the waistband of those tight shorts and pulled them down.
Underneath was a thong.
Electric Blue. Completely fucking obscene. I'd never seen it before. He'd never worn anything like that for me. The thin strip of fabric disappeared between the perfect globes of his ass, doing nothing to hide anything.
Mike let out an appreciative growl. "Good slut. Wearing the thong Master bought you."
"Yes, Master." Sebastian's voice was muffled, facing away now. He reached back and grabbed his own cheeks, spreading them wide.
I could see everything.
His hole. Wrecked. Gaping slightly. Puffy and red and glistening like it had been used all week. A thick dribble of something white and viscous leaked out and trailed down his perineum. Cum. Mike's cum. Still inside him from, from last night, from god knows how many other times while I was at work or asleep or pretending not to notice.
"Please fill me up, Master." Sebastian's fingers dug into his own flesh, holding himself open. "I need it so bad. Please. Use my pussy."
Mike chuckled, that warm, magnetic sound that made everyone love him. "You've been on my cock every chance you get, faggot. The last five days. Morning cardio. Lunch breaks. Late nights after your boyfriend goes to bed. You're insatiable."
"Yes," Sebastian breathed. "I am. I'm your insatiable whore. Please. I earned it."
"You're right." Mike stood up slowly, towering behind Sebastian. "You did."
He hooked his thumbs into his sweat shorts and pushed them down.
His cock sprang free, and my brain short-circuited.
Nine inches. Easy. Thick as my wrist, with a fat, flared head and a heavy vein running along the underside. His balls hung low and full, swaying with the movement, each one the size of a small egg. A thatch of dark hair framed everything. He was already leaking, a clear string of pre-cum dripping from the tip to the basement floor.
My own cock felt inadequate. Pathetic. And it was still harder than it had been in weeks.
No wonder. The thought surfaced unbidden. No wonder Sebastian's been too worn out to fuck. Look at that thing.
Mike lowered himself onto the weight bench, lying back. His cock stood straight up, impossibly thick, casting a shadow across his furry belly. "Come here," he commanded. "Make out with Master's hole first. Earn that cock."
Sebastian turned, saw Mike sprawled out, and practically lunged.
He buried his face between Mike's thick thighs, tongue diving into the sweaty, musky crevice of his hole with zero hesitation. Slurping sounds filled the basement. Wet and desperate. Sebastian's eyes rolled back in his head, fluttering closed in pure animal bliss as he ate Mike's ass like it was his last meal on earth.
"Fuck yeah," Mike groaned, reaching down to grab a fistful of Sebastian's hair. "That's it. Tongue-fuck it deeper. Show Master how grateful you are."
Sebastian's response was a muffled whine, his face pressed harder into Mike's crack. His perfect ass was still exposed, the blue thong stretched tight, that ruined hole still leaking Mike's earlier load down his thighs.
My hand had found its way into my pants without any conscious decision. I was stroking myself slowly, eyes locked on the scene through the crack in the door. Hating myself. Unable to stop.
Mike let it go on for another minute, groaning his approval, before he suddenly sat up. "Enough. On the bench. On your back. Legs up."
Sebastian scrambled to obey, lying back on the weight bench, pulling his knees to his chest. The thong was pulled aside. His hole was presented, open and waiting, still oozing.
Mike stood over him, stroking that monster cock with one hand. "Look at this hungry little pussy," he mused, almost to himself. "Such a perfect faggot slut. You were born for this, weren't you?"
"Yes, Master."
"Say it."
"I was born to be your faggot whore. Please. Breed me."
Mike lined himself up and pushed.
No lube. No preparation. Just that thick, heavy head pressing against Sebastian's already-gaping hole and sliding in with a wet, obscene squelch. Sebastian's back arched off the bench, a broken cry escaping his throat.
"Oh fuck— Master—"
"Take it," Mike growled, sinking deeper. Inch after impossible inch disappeared into Sebastian's wrecked body. "Take every fucking inch. This is what you begged for."
The bench creaked. The wet sounds grew louder. Mike's heavy balls slapped against Sebastian's ass with each thrust, a rhythmic counterpoint to Sebastian's desperate, punched-out moans.
I watched my uncle's thick, hairy body piston into my boyfriend. Watched Sebastian's eyes roll back. Watched his cock bounce untouched against his stomach, leaking a puddle onto his abs.
"You're nothing but a set of holes," Mike grunted, picking up speed. "A cumdump for real men. Say it."
"I'm— fuck— I'm nothing but holes, Master—"
"Are you my hole fag?"
"Yours. Only yours. Please don't stop—"
The bench slammed against the concrete floor with every thrust. Mike bent down, pressing his sweaty chest against Sebastian's, that soft belly squishing between them, and kissed him brutally. Tongues tangling. Teeth clashing. Mike's beard scraping Sebastian's chin.
"Thank me," Mike growled against his lips.
"Thank you, Master. Thank you for using my pussy."
"Good whore."
Mike pulled out suddenly, flipped Sebastian onto his stomach, and mounted him from behind. The new angle made Sebastian scream, a raw, wordless sound of pure submission. Mike's hips slapped against that perfect ass, his thick fingers digging into Sebastian's hips, using them as handles.
"You're gonna take this load," Mike panted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto Sebastian's spine. "Every drop. And then you're gonna walk upstairs and and work on your laptop, with my load dripping out of you, and kiss your boyfriend when he gets home with my cum still warm inside you."
"Yes— yes—Master - please— breed me deeper—"
"I've been breeding you for five days, faggot. And you're gonna keep taking it. You're never going back to Simon's little dick. This pussy is mine."
Sebastian sobbed with pleasure. "Yours, Master. I'm yours. Never going back—"
Mike let out a long, satisfied groan and buried himself to the hilt. His whole body tensed, muscles cording, that furry belly pressed flush against Sebastian's ass. I could see his balls drawing up, pulsing, emptying everything he had into my boyfriend's ruined hole.
Sebastian came untouched with a shattered wail, splattering the bench and the floor beneath him.
The basement fell silent except for their ragged breathing.
When Mike pulled out, his massive cock made a wet pop. Cum immediately gushed from Sebastian's gaping hole, thick and white, pooling on the bench.
Sebastian didn't move. He lay there, chest heaving, hole clenching around nothing, completely owned.
Mike reached down and pulled him up by the hair. "Good boy. Now clean me off."
Without a word, Sebastian sank back to his knees and took Mike's softening, cum-slick cock into his mouth. He licked it clean with the same desperate hunger he'd shown earlier, eyes closed, moaning softly around the girth.
Mike leaned back, letting him work. "Good faggot. You missed a spot."
Sebastian pulled off and immediately pressed his face into Mike's armpit, licking the sweat from the dense hair, worshipping every inch of his Master's body. He moved to Mike's nipples, sucking and licking each one, hands roaming up the furry chest like he couldn't get enough.
"Thank you, Master," Sebastian whispered between licks.
Mike's hand came up to stroke his hair. Almost gentle. "You're welcome, slut."
My hand was soaked. I'd cum at some point, didn't even remember when, and my boxers were a sticky mess. I stood there in the hallway, trembling, vision blurred, a thousand thoughts crashing into each other and none of them making sense.
Rage. Arousal. Betrayal. Arousal again.
He called me little. He called my dick little and Sebastian agreed.
But that cock. That nine-inch monster. Those heavy balls that had been emptying into my boyfriend for five straight days while I lay in bed next to him, untouched, unwanted.
I stumbled backward, away from the door, away from the grunting and moaning that had started up again. I silently crept back up the stairs.
The front door closed behind me with a soft click.
I made it to the truck before my legs gave out.
I sat behind the wheel, staring at nothing, my hand still sticky with my own cum. The image of Sebastian on his knees, mouthing Mike's bulge through his shorts, calling him Master in that desperate, broken voice, burned behind my eyelids.
I should go back in there. I should throw Mike out. I should scream at Sebastian. I should grab him and shake him and demand to know why.
But my cock was already stirring again.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
To be continued...
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Substack.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
