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 shorts, 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 into the sheets, 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.
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.
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