Harper mewls as Riley pulls him off me, like not being allowed to suck my dick is about the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person. It's flattering, but I'm too busy watching - wide-eyed, the breath caught in my chest - while Riley drags my friend upright and, with barely a pause, mashes his mouth against Harper's wet lips.
It's less a kiss than a battle: like they're each trying to consume the lower half of the other guy's face. Harper's chin was already slick with drool, and precum, and throat goo; within seconds that's spread across Riley, too. And with it the knowledge that stabs my brain like a lance, that they're each tasting me in that kiss.
I'm seriously tempted to grab my dick and just jerk it. Give it the few strokes I know is all it'd take to have me spewing cum across my chest.
Paralysis prevents that, as I stare at Riley pushing Harper back with a hand wrapping his throat. My friend's eyes are wide, pupils swollen into ink-black pools. Like he's been possessed, some demon occupying the flesh I'm familiar with.
Well, not quite all of it.
My gaze drops to the thick ridge of his erection, straining against his briefs. The clinging fabric soaked through at his tip, molded with obscene clarity around his flared cockhead.
I guess my staring is obvious, because Riley drops his hand to cup the meaty bulge. Is watching me, amusement on his face amid whatever wiped off Harper, when I drag my eyes up to meet his gaze.
Riley winks, and I feel my cheeks blush instinctively.
The movement of his fingers is a relief, a rescue of sorts. Giving me reason to look back down again, to where he's tugging at the front of Harper's underwear. Easing the cotton away, and I realize I'm holding my breath until his erection bobs free.
It looks big, on his frame, and I'm shocked to discover that I'm imagining how it might feel to try to wrap my lips around him. Whether Harper would make the same noises that Riley did, as I blew him; whether he'd taste the same, or different.
There's a weird sort of envy, that twists my stomach, when I see Riley's fist stroke down Harper's shaft.
"Turn over, Lincoln," the older guy instructs.
I frown at him.
Riley's stare doesn't waver. "Turn over. Stick your ass up, and spread your cheeks for us. Just do it."
Usually, being told what to do is the one thing guaranteed to get me to kick off. It's confusing, then, that hearing the edge to Riley's tone now only makes me want to please him.
It's not so graceful a flip, but I manage it nonetheless.
"Ass up, Lincoln." He voice is beguiling again, softly teasing. "Don't you want us to see you properly?"
I pull my knees in, butt lifting. Feeling exposed already, on display in a way that sends shivers of self-conscious delight down my spine. I can hear him take a breath, to further repeat his order, even as I reach back and - a hand on each cheek - spread myself for them.
This might be the most exposed I've ever felt in my whole damn life.
I want to see them, see Riley and Harper's faces as they look at me, but at the same time it feels like a blessing that I can't. My eyes squeezed shut, face pressed into the cushions
"Has anyone ever licked this pretty hole before, Lincoln?"
I snort, despite the riot of feelings that have left me shivering. "Fuck, no."
I mean, I know people do it. Not just gay guys. People, generally. Just not anybody I've ever hooked up with. And the idea of suggesting it to Haley...
I jerk away, when I feel the first brush of a tongue. Shocked, so caught up my thoughts that I'd hadn't felt them come closer. I don't even know if it was Riley or Harper, not that it really matters. Fact is, someone just licked my ass, and it happened to be another dude.
Fighting the flinch is easier, the second time. Not that I'm really prepared for the lightning bolt that goes shooting up my spine, the gasp escaping me instinctively.
"Oh, fuck yes," Riley murmurs, and I know from the vibrations that he's the one whose tongue is lapping at me.
It feels very much like the world shatters, when he starts working on me in earnest.
Tremors setting my legs shuddering and twitching, and my fingers have to be white with the sudden pressure with which I'm squeezing my cheeks. Gripping myself as if it's the only thing keeping me from floating away, up off the couch, as surges of pleasure ripple out from my hole.
I don't know whose hand settles on the small of my back, the gentle pressure not so much holding me in place as steadying me, but I'm grateful for it. Something about it, that reminder of my physical form, makes it easier to push my hips back. To press my ass against the face currently feasting on it.
I hear the shuffling behind me, feel the cushions move. Can imagine Harper shoving Riley to the side, the two of them shoulder to shoulder, so that he can take a turn; my face burns up at the idea of it, of being passed around so lewdly.
My cock is jerking and pulsing under me, untouched, but I'm starting to think that won't matter. That the orgasm I've been chasing all evening is no longer dependent on a hand, or a throat, or anything else: that the friction of a tongue trying to worm its way into my hole will be sufficient to drive the climax out of me, from the inside.
I whimper - the sound high-pitched and reedy, and borderline embarrassing - as a hand twists around my swollen tip. Gathering up the drooling precum, that until now has been soaking a broad wet patch on Riley's couch.
I know what it feels like, when fingers push into me. An awareness I'd never have expected to learn, much less to hunger for, but there's no time to dwell on that. Barely even the brain capacity to wonder if I'll ever be able to cum again without playing with myself back there, because fingers and tongue are working on me simultaneously, now. Pulling me open, overcoming what meager resistance my tired, conspiratorial muscles might've once mustered, as Riley and Harper compete to be the first to strum my tender insides.
It's half moan, half groan, when a hand pulls my cock back, between my thighs. Setting my hips tilting up even further, trying to reduce the pressure on my crotch as they strain me. Drool running down the fat underside of my shaft, and every throb, every twitch sets my sensitive cockhead grating against the palm that has trapped it at this torturous angle.
"Fuck, you're so hot inside, Lincoln. So fucking hot, and tight."
I bury my dismay into the cushions, face pressed against them. Mortified by how they're talking about me, how they're manhandling me - like my body is meat, something raw and malleable - and yet loving it, too. Already addicted, perhaps, even in this short time, to being objectified and observed. My most intimate parts, and the things I'd only dare do on my own in my bedroom, all splayed out for these men to see.
"You fucking bastards."
Shock, and anger, and plain disbelief in Chance's voice, clear even over the roaring of blood in my ears.
I manage to turn my head, to stare at him with bleary eyes, as he stands with Aidan in the doorway.
The bag from the liquor store is dangling, forgotten, from one of Chance's hands as he gapes at us. There's part of me that wishes I could see the scene from his perspective, know exactly what my best friend has stumbled in on, but all I can go by is the expression on his face. It's a look I don't think I've ever seen on my buddy before, but then again he's never seen me doing this, either.
"W-were you just about to... to fuck him?" Chance's voice cracks halfway through his horrified question.
But that's what it looks like, I realize, with a jolt of clarity that's close to painful. Just like earlier, when Riley had asked whether I wanted him on his back or on all-fours, only now I'm the one with his ass stuck in the air, as if I'm waiting to get plowed. I'm the one getting my hole eaten out, and getting god knows how many fingers pushed into me at the same time, and fuck, I don't even know if I'd have stopped them. Or if, had Riley or Harper stood up behind me and tried to bone me right here, raw and sweaty on this cheap old sectional, I'd have done anything but moan and hope someone at least took pity and jerked me off at the same time.
Chance is staring at me, wide-eyed, and Aidan too, and the other guys may have stopped toying with my ass but there's still a hand pulling my cock back between my legs, and it's all too much. Far, far beyond what my brain, and my body, and my sex-starved, horny, prick-teased half-year of grudging celibacy can handle, and just as my body starts convulsing there's the sharp, bright thought that while it's still just a hand getting me off, at least it's not my own fucking hand for once.
And then everything disappears, beyond my cock erupting.
Tunnel vision, and my lungs frozen in my chest, and the twist of the orgasm close to painful as I spray uncontrollably. Wanting to sit up, my muscles howling and about to cramp up, only that fucking hand is pinning my dick in place. Yanking it back, so that I'm certain everyone must be able to see the thick, white ropes of cum bursting out of me, as I tremble and shake on my hands and knees.
My cock's still pulsing, body still pumping, even when there's nothing left in me to give. Tremors running from head to toe, as the smell of my fresh load fills my nostrils. I need, desperately, for whoever's manhandling me to release my dick, because I'm close to squealing just from the roughness of their palm against my tip. Anything more than that would require words, though, and an ability to speak them out loud, and currently the parts of me responsible for that are resolutely offline.
Nothing I can do, then, but watch as Chance drops the bag and storms up the basement stairs. Or as Aidan glances up after him, then back at us, still blinking fast and looking shell-shocked.
"I'll... uh, I'll..."
I'll calm him down, maybe, or I'll talk to him, or I'll give you perverts some privacy, even if doing this shit right out in the open suggests you didn't give a fuck about privacy in the first place.
Aidan turns, and rushes up the stairs after him.
I whimper in relief, when my cock's released. My whole body sagging, as if that was the one thing keeping me upright, my muscles engaged. Slumping to the side, panting, as I try, and fail, and try again to process what the hell just happened.
It's not the best angle, to watch Harper sucking Riley's dick, but a better one would require moving and that's not a possibility right now. Anyway, it's enough to see how Riley has Harper's arm stretched up, so that he can lick at what I figure are the long, white streaks of my cum from where it sprayed from my friend's wrist to his elbow.
I guess that answer the question of who was pulling on my dick, then.
Riley catches sight of me watching, though he looks kinda distracted. Then again, from the noises Harper's making, he's not exactly holding back.
He grins, lopsided at me, lips smeared with my cream. "You taste pretty good, Lincoln."
I'm too tired to do anything but grin back at him. Even my cheeks have apparently decided it'd take too much effort to blush.
And then his eyes close, head rocking back as he reaches down to pin Harper tight to his crotch, and I get to hear him grunt and my friend choke and gurgle as he unloads down his throat.
Riley's cock is red, and wet, and heavy-looking when he finally tugs himself free. There's a frenzied look in Harper's eyes, as he topples back onto his ass. His dick looks fit to burst, like the barest of grazes could set him off.
A grunt, as Riley hauls him up, and the two of them fall onto the sofa. Harper slotted between us, his heat fierce against my side. It feels right to rub my hand across his chest, to feel the hammer of his heartbeat against my palm. Maybe I should be self-conscious, or worried about what Chance might say, or Aidan, when the sexual fog has lifted and reality sets in, but it's difficult to be too concerned with that now.
"I can't believe you ate my ass, dude," I murmur, lips close to Harper's ear. "That was so fuckin' hot."
He stiffens, and then it's almost like slow motion in front of me. The first spray of cum hits Harper's neck, barely inches from where Riley's lips are latched. His hips convulsing, cock wagging, and suddenly there's a long, white streak of it across me, too. The force of it making me flinch, even as I watch more splash out across our bodies as he whimpers and twitches.
Riley's finger slowly drags up, across the sweaty, cum-sprayed skin. Not stopping until that richly glazed digit is nudging at Harper's lips; he suckles on it instinctively, as if still in a daze.
"Wanna try?"
I meet his eye, narrowed playfully, across Harper's chest. Already knowing I'm going to decline, but also certain that - had he asked me that question just a few minutes ago, before I creamed all over Harper's arm - I can't exactly promise I'd have been so reluctant.
He laughs, as I shake my head, and then I watch as he feeds my friend some more of his own load.
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