It's so fucking tense, down in Riley's basement, I'm almost starting to regret getting my dick out that first night, and jerking off with my buddies in the room. Almost.
Chance is doing a pretty fucking good job of pretending I'm not sitting even six feet away from him. The fact that I can practically feel the resentment radiating off him is the main giveaway that he's not chilled and happily watching whatever dumb game is on the TV right now. Well, that and how he's clenching his teeth tighter than guys do when they take selfies to send girls, because it gives them a sharper jawline.
It's tempting to remind him that it wasn't my fault that he boned up, and point out that I wasn't going to tease him about it, and that shoving me onto my ass and running off was a childish overreaction. I'm just not sure it'd help my case much, though.
Harper's giving the both of us these quick, nervous little glances. Eyes flitting left and right like he's watching a tennis match. I'd say Aidan was blissfully ignorant of the mood, but even he's gotta have noticed that his shitty jokes have landed like lead balloons. Not even a sympathy laugh.
And Riley... Riley, I daren't even look at.
One barbed comment from him could bring the whole, precarious thing crashing down.
It's frustrating, and uncomfortable, and I'm angry, too. Because this was meant to be our getaway spot, even if Chance's brother didn't put that invitation into so many words. A place we could come and not have to worry about what girls were expecting of us, or what bullshit was happening at work, or any of the other headaches that we could leave on the other side of Riley's front door.
It's not out of line, I don't think, to want that back.
I shoot Harper a pointed stare, because these anxious "mommy and daddy are fighting" looks between Chance and I are starting to piss me off. It makes him turn around, and the back of his neck gets all red, and then I just feel like an asshole for that, instead.
Gritting my teeth, I push myself up, off the couch.
"I'm heading out," I tell them.
Chance gives me this sidelong look. "Gonna see your girlfriend?"
I know what he's doing, what would be obvious even if he hadn't put all that emphasis on 'girlfriend' like a bad actor. The way he glances at his brother just underscores it.
"Fuck you, dude," I tell him, mildly.
"You gonna tell her, then? That you put your dick inside him?" Chance jerks his chin at Riley.
I hear Aidan gasp; just a tight, choked thing, quickly clamped down on. I guess he was the only one in the room who didn't know.
"Passive aggression isn't cute, little brother." Riley sounds distracted, as he thumbs through his phone. It means he misses the furious twist of Chance's face, though maybe he's just seen it so many times before, he already can guess what it looks like right now.
"None of this would've happened if you hadn't slept with him," Chance snaps back. The aggression doesn't sound so passive, now.
Riley looks up. The expression he gives his brother is withering. "Everyone's responsible for their own erections, aren't they?"
Chance turns to me with visible outrage. "You fucking told him?"
There's no way to hide my wince. Of course, I hadn't told Riley - or anybody - that Chance had got hard when we were out running. I don't even think Riley was fishing for compromising details about his brother.
From what I can see on his face now, though, "it's nothing" probably isn't going to fly.
"You're a fucking idiot," I tell my best friend, and from the way realization is seemingly dawning, right now he might agree with me.
"Fuck," Chance says, letting his head loll back so that he's staring at the ceiling.
"Did you blow my brother?" Riley's amused, there's no doubting it, but he seems genuinely curious, too.
"No," I say, making no attempt to hide my glare.
He ignores it. "Did he fuck you?"
"No!" Chance and I both almost shout it in near-perfect unison.
"Does someone want to explain what the hell has been going on?" Aidan sounds confused and a little indignant, which I guess is fair given the conversation we're currently having.
Riley gives me a "well, tell the man" look.
I sigh, turning my stare on Harper. He shrugs, just a little, which I decide I might as well take as blanket permission.
"Me, Riley, and Harper hooked up. And then I fucked Riley." It sounds weird, to put it in such blunt, brief terms. Like stage directions in a script. "And then I jerked off, with Chance, but he didn't jerk off. Just me. Only he boned up, and got freaked out and ran off."
Riley snorts. "You're such a child," he tells his brother.
Chance flips him off, still staring at the textured paint on the ceiling.
"Big fucking deal, you boned up." Riley's voice is scathing. "Just because someone stroked their dick next to you."
"Actually, I was on top of him, and I got cum on his chest," I correct, helpfully. Something about being blunt is weirdly addictive.
"Dude!" Chance apparently disagrees with that sentiment.
I shrug. "Maybe if you'd invited me to the circle jerk, none of this would've happened."
If you didn't know Riley and Chance were brothers, the fact that they share the same withering glare would be enough to convince you.
"That was one time, when we were kids, and the fact that you're a colossal pervert now has nothing to do with any of it."
Riley chuckles. "'Colossal' is a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, he's big, but he's not that big."
Chance redirects his angry look. "Not. Helping."
"Seemed like it was more than enough for you, the other night," I remind Riley.
He winks at me. "Flop it out again, and I'll see how my memory compares."
I can't help it, the wriggle of self-conscious pleasure from the way his eyes track across me. It's still so strange to be objectified; there's no way for me not to preen when it happens.
The fact that he can't help but look, as I cup my hand around my junk, makes me feel weirdly powerful. I'm not sure when I got hard again, but it feels good to knead my erection through my sweatpants.
"You're boned up right now, aren't you," Riley says, still grinning.
I nod.
"Jesus." Chance's snort is laced with disbelief. "Does that thing ever go down?"
"How long before yours did, the other day?" I fire back at him. "Were you soft before you made it home, or did you have to jerk off first?"
"I suppose I should've just asked you to do it for me, right?" Chance gives Harper a pointed look, as if to say he hasn't forgotten our other friend's involvement in all this.
The shrug he gets in return makes me snort.
"Sure, why the hell not?" I guess seeing Harper's reaction left me feeling bolder, too. Anyway, it's fun to watch Chance's mouth fall open in surprise. "We're friends, aren't we?"
Riley practically cackles in amusement. "Damn, little brother, you could've got your dick stroked. But you ran away."
"I can stroke my own fucking dick," Chance snaps.
"Can't suck it yourself, though, can you."
There's a brief, but pointed, glaring battle between them. During which I wonder, idly but on-topic at least, what it'd be like to watch Chance suck his own dick. How long he'd have to be, and how flexible, in order to actually do it, and then whether he'd blow in his own mouth or pull off at the last minute. He's pretty uptight, so he might even think it's kinda gay to do that, even if the cum is your own. Honestly, that just feels like a sort of recycling to me.
"Lincoln wouldn't suck my dick." Chance says it with a sort of desperate certainty.
I know, just from Riley's expression as he turns to me, what his question is going to be. And maybe that understanding is clear, obvious from my own face, because he doesn't even bother asking. Just tilts his head to the side, like it's an invitation to dig the "Lincoln is a pervert" pit even deeper.
"I probably would."
Riley sticks his tongue out. I guess he thinks the "probably" is a cop-out.
My best friend is just staring at me, in disbelief.
I shrug. "I mean, I probably would, that's all I'm saying. If I was, y'know, horny at the time."
"You're always fucking horny."
Another shrug, acknowledging his logic.
We're both silent, for a minute, just watching each other. I figure everyone here has worked out the repercussions of what's just been said; what pretty much amounts to my giving my best friend an open-ended invitation to put his dick in my mouth. Arguably that ought to feel weird, or uncomfortable even, but I'm more just curious what Chance will actually say.
It's Riley, though, who loses patience first.
"For fuck's sakes... Lincoln, come here."
I cross the room, legs practically operating of their own accord. Only drag my eyes away from Chance's stare when his brother brushes my hands from my crotch and yanks my sweats down. Underwear with them, my hard cock bouncing out in front of his face.
The wink is the only warning I get, before Riley slurps my cockhead between his lips.
I grunt, and my knees almost buckle, because he's not being gentle. Not teasing me, easing me into this: it's a a weaponized sort of pleasure, a torrent of sensations as his fingers dig into my hips and drag me closer.
The curse bursts out of me, as I hit the tight entrance to his throat, and then again as Riley swallows around me and sucks me in deeper. Not stopping until my crotch is pressed against his mouth, each twitch and pulse of his gullet delivering me a massage that feels close to overwhelming.
I'm just about to plead for mercy when he tugs his head back.
My cock is red and glistening, slick with the slime from his throat. Achingly, impossibly hard, and the urge to grab myself and stroke is making my hands clench into fists.
"It looks bigger when it's wet," Riley observes, staring at me with clear curiosity. He taps it, just gently with his index finger, setting me bobbing.
There's that "treating me like a toy" thing again. The one which makes me feel so ridiculously aroused.
"Horny?" Riley's expression is mischievous.
No way not to see the question as leading, given what I just told his brother. And no way not to conclude, then, that the answer required is for Chance's ears, really.
"Very," I admit.
For as cocky, and turned on, as I feel, I can't bring myself to look at my friend. Terrified of what I might see.
Riley saves me from my spiraling paranoia. Pulling me down, to the couch, and then easing my shirt up over my head. Stripping me, my arms raising in helpful obedience, until I'm naked alongside him. Hyper-aware of being the only one undressed in the room.
Riley's hand feels glorious, as he slowly strokes me. His lips pressed close to my ear.
"You blew your load over my brother?"
I nod. It's hard to swallow, the memory is so intense.
"And then..."
If I look at Chance, I know the words will never come out. I watch Riley's fist working me, instead.
"He made me lick it up."
I'm not sure which of us earned Riley's gurgling approval; me, or his brother. Maybe it was a team effort.
"Before or after you knew he was hard?"
His thumb drags across the head of my cock, and for a moment I writhe at the flood of intense sensations.
"B-before," I manage to stutter out, when the sparks have just about cleared from my vision.
Riley nods, slowly. Thoughtful, like he's mulling over everything I've just confessed, and trying to piece together the options left over.
"You want Harper to eat your ass again?"
He's so matter of fact, the way he offers up my friend. Like Harper's compliance is a foregone conclusion: something to be passed around, like Riley might beers from the cooler.
I'm not even sure, at first, if Harper heard him. Until I look up, and meet his wide-eyed stare across the room, and understand from those swollen, inky pupils that he knows exactly what's been suggested.
If I say no, I know Riley won't force it. Hell, he'll probably even finish the handjob. So, really, it all comes down to the fact that I know exactly what I'm missing out on, if I pretend I don't want to say yes.
I nod, instead, and then watch as Harper comes closer. Dropping to his knees at the edge of the couch, in-between the wide splay of my thighs.
"Pull your legs back, Lincoln," Riley instructs. His tone amused, like I'm a wayward pet needing to be gently brought to heel.
Blushing hotly, and hyper aware of Chance's eyes on me, and Aidan's, and the way Harper is staring at me with an intensity that almost leaves me shivering, I ease a hand behind each knee and pull.
It's different, to that first night. To when I pulled my dick out and jerked as they sat around, watching the game. The sense of exposure unutterably changed, as Riley's hand makes long strokes along the slimy, precum-greased length of my dick, and Harper leans in with a glazed sort of hunger in his eyes.
I gasp, when his tongue rasps across me. My fingers tightening, digging into the flesh of my legs as my toes clench. Resisting the urge to cry out, or to reach down and mash Harper's face against my skin, or to beg Riley to go faster.
The lapping shifts to long, teasing strokes of his tongue, and then to pointed pressure against my hole. Working me open, just like they did the other night, and I arch my back as Harper grinds the first finger into me. Licking around it, my muscles softening until the second digit slides in with dangerous ease, and then he's pulling and tugging on me. Coaxing my body into opening for him, so that Harper's sly tongue can dig further.
Aidan's hand is in his shorts, some distant voice in my brain points out to me. Watching the three of us, on the couch, with an expression of awed fascination. But I can only really focus on how my best friend is looking at me.
I want to be able to put a word to it, to describe Chance's face, the set of his features. To decode whether it's disgust, or shock, or some sort of curiosity that's there. Trapped with the feeling that, if only I could work it out, I'd know what to say, how to behave.
All I can think about is how it felt, to have Riley's dick in my mouth. How I expected it to be humiliating, a position of weakness, and how instead I felt so powerful. I'd be lying, if I claimed there wasn't some curiosity in me about how it might feel to blow his brother.
"Would you suck his cock?" Riley's voice is insidious, seeping into the depths of my brain.
I nod. "Y-yeah."
"Don't tell me." He sounds amused. "Tell him."
The lump when I swallow feels huge. Then again, maybe I should be getting used to the feeling of having my throat filled.
"I... I'd suck your cock," I tell my best friend.
Chance stares at me, expression indecipherable.
Riley turns, chuckling. "Y'hear that, little brother. You could finally get some head."
It's halfway to a hiss, the noise Chance makes. "Fuck you, I get head."
Instinct, then, that sees me open my mouth as Riley presses his fingertips against my lips. Instinct, that makes me sit there obediently, as he pushes three fingers inside.
"Not like this, you haven't," Riley teases.
I don't know whether to blush even deeper from the compliment, or to revel in it.
Chance glances around, and for a moment I think it's because he's planning his escape. Only to see his stare settle on Aidan, who's still watching intently and with a hand shoved into his silky blue basketball shorts.
Aidan shrugs, minutely. I don't know if it's permission, uncertainty, or what.
Whatever it is - or whatever Chance decides it can mean - it's apparently sufficient. Enough to bring my best friend shuffling over on the couch, until his hip is very nearly pressed against my own. My raised leg wobbling above his thigh.
His expression looks different, this close. What seemed like shock is more akin to fascination.
"You're so fuckin' weird," Chance mutters.
I'm strangely glad of the fingers stuffed into my mouth. At least they liberate me from having to reply: to justify or defend myself.
"Do you actually get off on all this shit?"
I can't answer, but Riley pulls my dick down, stretching it as though he's trying to press it to Harper's forehead. When he releases it, it slaps heavily against me, precum splattering.
Chance chuckles. "Guess that was a dumb question." He looks up, from my throbbing inches, to his brother's grin on the other side of me. "You wanna stop manhandling my best friend?"
Laughing, Riley eases back from me. Hands raised - precum and spit-slicked, but placatory all the same - as he smirks at his younger brother. Passing me down to the next in line.
"You know not to use your teeth, right?"
I roll my eyes at Chance's question, but there's no way to miss the implication. If he's asking me that then, as far as he's concerned, he's about to get his cock sucked.
He grunts, as if this is all entirely ridiculous, but he's still pushing his sweatpants down.
Faded blue boxer-briefs underneath, probably long overdue replacement, and struggling to hold back the hard swell of Chance's erection. It seems weird that, even after all these years of knowing him, I've never actually seen my buddy boned up. Well, not bare-skin-seen, anyway. The closest I've ever been to that was sitting on him, the other day, and feeling him throb against my ass through our shorts.
There's a spreading wet patch, where the cotton is shaped with near-anatomical detail around his tip. Darker, against the well-washed blue.
"Leaky," I tease, staring down at it.
"Says you." Chance looks, pointedly, at where my own cock is flicking long, gooey cords of precum with each twitch.
He shoves his underwear down with the same, jerky movements that I remember from the locker room when we were barely teens. A self-conscious restraint, like he's worried someone's going to turn around and laugh at his exposed body.
That reticence had fallen away, over the years. Eroded by his growing confidence, as Chance leaned into sports and got fitter, taller, more muscled. Even now, years after graduation, he's probably the most active of us all. Something about seeing that regression, hints of the shy version of the friend I grew up with, leaves me feeling oddly nostalgic.
It's a man's dick, though, not a boy's.
Part of me - the competitive part, the part which can't resist seeing everything Chance and I do as an opportunity to demonstrate dominance - thinks I should be comparing myself to him. Figuring out who wins on length, and thickness, and any other ridiculous metric you could level at a dude's junk.
The truth of it, though, is that I'm too busy wondering what it'll feel like in my mouth, to worry about how I hold up to him.
I glance across, to the other end of the couch, where Riley is sprawled back against the arm. Grinning, with a look that I can't help but read as "Isn't this what you always wanted?"
Maybe I did. Maybe there was a voice in the depths of my brain that always wondered what it'd be like to get down on my knees and slurp my best friend's erection between my lips. Just because I don't remember ever hearing it, doesn't mean it wasn't back there, whispering.
Chance's eyes are wide, when I turn to him.
"Are you sure..."
"Don't be a pussy, dude," I say, interrupting him.
He stares at me, for a long moment. And then, just when I think he's about to back out, Chance snorts with laughter.
"Fuck you," he tells me, but he's getting up onto his knees at the same time.
It's my turn, my opportunity to pull the ripcord and end this all, but I just open my mouth and watch my buddy push two fingers at the base of his dick. Levering it down, so that the fat cockhead is pointed directly between my lips.
"So fucked up," Chance mutters, even as he's sliding into me.
My lips close instinctively, pulling tight around his shaft even as the sharp-sweet flavor of his precum floods my tongue. He's so fucking hard, I don't know whether to be flattered, or terrified that Chance might keep pushing until he's choking me.
He doesn't, though. Looks down at me, disbelief and arousal competing in his expression.
"Fuck, Lincoln."
It's his familiar voice, but my name sounds different. Even discounting the blood that's thrumming in my ears.
I swirl my tongue around the flared ridge of his head, and watch his jaw clench in response. Knowing that he's chewing back the gasp, tamping down his natural reaction, even if I'm not sure whether it's competitiveness or fear that's making him do that.
The thought of overwhelming him, of reducing my oldest, closest friend to a whimpering heap, is like a furnace igniting in the depths of my chest.
I shouldn't feel like I'm the powerful one, not like this. Not with Chance feeding me his dick at one end, and Harper feasting on my increasingly sloppy hole at the other. Not with me pulling my legs back, spreading myself like a wishbone so that my second-oldest buddy can force his tongue inside me, as my cock weeps precum like a broken faucet.
The fact that I do feel powerful, then, is maybe a gift from Riley.
Harper grunts, as I rest my heels on his back. My arms liberated, to reach for Chance's hips and draw him in closer. His muscles firm under my fingertips, only he seems more than willing to be led, to be guided around as I work another inch or two between my lips.
He hisses, as his tip brushes the tight clench of my throat. My face very nearly buried in his crotch, though not quite. Still some dick to go, and I know that if I want to consume him completely, want to give my best friend the very best fucking blowjob he's had in his twenty-two years of life, then I'm going to have to get over my fear of swallowing him.
And then Harper pushes his fingers into me, making me gurgle with surprise and pleasure, and in the process my throat spasms and suddenly Chance's fat, leaky tip is caught within its fluttering grip.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck... Lincoln..."
He sounds broken, somehow; his voice cracking on my name. One hand grabbing my head: more to steady himself, it feels like, than out of any sort of attempt to seize control of the situation. It's enough, though, to pull us together, my lips mashed against his skin.
It's a weird thing to be proud of, but I am.
Chance jerks back, his hips fighting my hold. Tugging his cock from my throat; all the way out of my mouth, even. Leaving me gasping, my nerves raw-edged.
I look up at him, through teary eyes.
"It... it was too much," he admits.
Funny, that you can know someone so well - be so aware of how much they hate admitting they can't handle something - that a confession like that feels like the greatest possible compliment.
I nod, my eyes still watering. "Slower, then," I promise, my voice gravel-edged.
He's nodding too, even as his spit-slicked tip is poking at my lips again.
I do my best, to rein in my more eager, devious ambitions. Try to think of the things that Riley and Harper did to me, the things which most overwhelmed me, and then treat them as a distant possibility rather than an immediate goal. Reveling, too, in the noises rumbling through Chance's body, the guttural and untempered sounds of him succumbing to the pleasure of his best friend's mouth. That was always our thing, after all, the core strength of our friendship. How we could leash together our competitiveness, never more determined than when we had a shared goal.
Harper tongue-fucking my ass doesn't hurt, either.
A distraction, maybe, one that steals half of my attention as he licks around the stretch of what has to be three fingers, now. My hole having barely offered up a protest, as he pushed more digits into me. Hunting for the soft, tender flesh of my insides; all the better to work with relentless appetite, as he pulled me open.
Weird, to think of getting nailed, and not be sure who'll be doing the honors.
I don't really know if it's a thing I'm actually expecting - actually wanting, even - or just a fantasy. Something I can imagine and have it further tighten the spring of my arousal: that winding, clenching sensation between my ribs. Magnifying the pleasure radiating out from my hole, and the off-kilter satisfaction of what I'm doing with my mouth, and tongue, and throat.
My neck's getting sore, from the angle I'm holding my head at, so I pull on Chance's thigh. Only a moment before he gets the message, allows me to guide his leg across my chest until he's straddling me. A leg either side of my torso, and his hands braced on the wall behind me.
So strange, then, to stare up at him; to hold his eye as he gazes down at me. Past the gold necklace dangling out from his neck, the twenty-first birthday gift I helped his parents pick. Chance's expression ripe with lust, a hungry sort of fascination.
I can feel his muscles shift, tighten, flex, as he rolls his hips and fucks his cock into me. A sinuous, controlled motion, and with it the dizzying heft of him filling my throat, stretching me in ways I could never imagine, and then easing back. Slow, at first, as though he's gauging my limits and his, too; testing the potential for friction, and suction, and the devious contribution of my tongue. How quickly he can go before I choke and splutter, drool spilling down my chin and across my bare chest, and how quickly before the feelings are too much for him. Might bring to a premature end something neither of us knew to expect.
I reach for my cock, risking only the gentlest grip, as he begins to ream me in earnest.
Riley must be able to hear the noises my gullet is making, as his brother digs into me. Hell, Aidan can probably hear it, from across the room: a squishy, gooey, thick sound, punctuated by my snatched breaths. No way, then, not to picture them doing more than simply watching: to imagine Riley nudging Chance's body aside and feeding me his own, fat inches. Marveling at how quickly I've gone from terrified of gagging, to fantasize about letting one wide cockhead after another dredge more slime from the depths of my throat.
I whine, a thick and muffled sound around Chance's heft, when Harper pulls away from me. Have to fight the urge to yank him back, or try to at least, my heels digging into his shoulders. Simultaneously afraid of looking so desperate, so needy, and yet also furious that the incredible sensations might be denied me.
The couch shifts; my head may be pinned in place, but I can just about twist my eyes enough to see Harper crawling onto Riley's lap. The way the older man's hands cup his face, as Harper dips in closer and their lips meet. How the kiss starts out carefully - as though Riley's worried, ridiculous as I now know that to be, that my friend might bolt away in shock - and then, with hungry urgency, accelerates into something loud and sloppy.
Harper's hands are busy, too, digging between their bodies. Yanking at Riley's fly, tugging it open but not stopping there. Practically dragging his cock out, and I decide my shiver of satisfied delight at how hard he is, about my own role in that, is a well-earned one.
Riley turns, to look at me, as Harper presses his mouth to his ear. A smirk spreading, as my friend strokes him and whispers.
And then Harper shifts back, standing and offering a hand to help pull Riley upright too, and the looks on both of their faces as they watch me feel like a promise and a warning, all in one.
The feeling is only amplified when they move, and suddenly Chance's body is blocking my view of what they're doing behind him. My imagination filling in the gaps, spiraling madly, so that I jerk in surprise at the scrape of nails along the backs of my thighs. A teasing, trailing sort of touch, working my legs apart and back. Baring me again, so thoroughly and so lewdly.
I have a choice, I know I do.
Little mystery in what's coming next, of course, what'll happen if I allow it to. What wordless compliance will mean; what permissions granted, if I say no different. Riley and Harper wouldn't force me, I'm sure of it. At least, not physically, anyway. Giving me a taste of something, teasing me with the potential should I dare go further, that's an altogether different thing.
Consent enough, then, to let go of my cock and grab my legs again to hold them spread.
Something thick drags up the crack of my ass. Slow, and teasing, and the friction half-diluted by the sweat and spit that Harper left behind.
I grunt around Chance's cock, as that slick point of pressure circles in against my hole. Feel my ass clench instinctively, even for all my friend's efforts to work me open. And then the sound of spitting, the slap of further wetness against my skin, as hands grip me and use that tight hold to pull me onto my first dick.
For a moment I'm in disbelief, doubtful it'll ever work - that I'm going to let it happen - and then suddenly they're irrelevant questions. My muscles fluttering around a shaft that I can only assume must be baseball-bat-thick, from how huge it feels inside me.
"Holy shit, his throat just went wild," Chance pants, a dazed edge to his voice, and I wonder in some distant, off-kilter way if that'll be enough to stop whoever is trying to fuck me.
Another question rendered pointless, as they grind further inside my well-teased hole.
Slow, but steady and unrelenting, as I grip my legs with fingers that are rictus tight. Waiting for the moment that seems inevitable, the point where I have to tap out, to remind everyone here - despite everything that has happened, everything that I've done and am still doing now - that I'm straight.
I feel, instead, the brush of someone's crotch, hot against my own, and realize that while I was spiraling, they were too busy focusing on skewering me as deep as they can go.
It feels... unbelievable.
In every sense: that I'm doing it, that it's working, and that the rasping friction of my hyper-sensitive hole is a possibility. Something I can physically experience without my brain melting, my body vibrating itself into nothingness. An impossible fullness, intimacy beyond anything I could imagine, even though I can't even see the identity of the person who's now buried inside me.
I want to know who it is, and yet somehow it doesn't matter. Wouldn't make a difference, if it were Riley, or Harper, or even if they'd silently beckoned Aidan over. Hands guiding his dick to press into me, encouraging him to take this step which could forever upend our friendship.
For all that - for all I can sit with the anonymity - there's still a sense of rightness when Harper slips down next to me on the couch, and I realize it's Riley who's gripping my hips and slowly dragging his cock from the desperate clench of my hole.
"Dude, it was so fucking hot, watching him break you in." Harper's lips close to my ear, his viewpoint perfect to see my lips stretched around one brother's shaft while the other churns my insides an inch or so in either direction.
I grunt, around Chance's thickness, and Harper laughs.
"Does it feel good?"
I want to laugh with him, to tell him that 'good' is such a weak, meager word. Wholly insufficient to capture the sensations rippling through me: the physicality of the two men fucking me, and the way my brain has reset itself to embrace the indescribable pleasure I'm experiencing as a result.
All I can do is grunt again, though, as Harper hums in delight and licks up the side of my face. His tongue perilously close to Chance's thrusting dick, as my oldest buddy reaches down to steady himself with both hands holding my head.
"This is so fucked up," Chance mutters. Doesn't stop pounding, though, my body rocking as Riley's strokes grow longer and more aggressive.
"Admit it, it's the best head you've ever had," his brother teases from behind him. Even without being able to see his face, I can picture the smirk it'll be wearing.
"Shut the hell up, and let me enjoy it, then," Chance snaps.
Riley chuckles, but he seems willing to follow that strategy too. Both of them focused on plying me, on extracting every last morsel of stimulation they can.
"You know they're gonna cum in you, right?" Harper's taunt is delivered with a careful tone, though I can still hear the curiosity simmering beneath that. The sense of anticipation.
He's wondering if I'm gonna freak out, I know he is, and honestly, I'm wondering that too. Because there's a difference - maybe I'm a fucking idiot, for drawing the distinction, but I do - between being a hole for someone, and being a cumdump. A difference between spreading your legs or opening your mouth, and then allowing a guy to take that friction to the inevitable conclusion.
I could push them off me, out of me. Not like I'm tied up on this shitty old couch; not like they've pinned me, or at least no more than I'm willingly, compliantly allowing myself to be pinned. Hell, all it would take is letting go of my legs and kicking Riley back, shoving his brother after him - sending Chance toppling off the cushions - to bring a sudden end to all this.
In some strange way, it'd be easier if they were forcing me. If my hands were trapped, my body splayed and immobile. An easy thing to blame, then, for the fact that fighting back, protesting, hadn't even occurred to me.
I'm not complaining, though, and so that can only mean that I do actually want my best buddy and his older brother to breed me at both ends.
"Don't swallow," Harper adds, and his voice is louder, now. "I want to taste him, too."
Pitched for Chance to hear, I realize, with a jolt of perverse admiration. And, by the hoarse grunt of shock from above us, my friend did hear, and did realize the implications, and it's that which seems to have toppled him past the point of no return.
"Oh... oh fuck..."
He swells in my throat, and that's the last warning I get. That and the near-painful dig of his fingertips into my scalp, as Chance's hips jab in sharp, almost desperate movements and I feel myself suddenly fill with his load. Thick, and slimy, and instantly changing the texture of his cock as it presses into me. Each stroke dragging gooey waves of it down my chin, as my lips struggle to contain him.
Chance is barely out - his breathing ragged, hoarse - when Harper is yanking my head to the side. Not so much a kiss as a hungry devouring, his tongue filling my mouth as he slurps eagerly at Chance's freshly-deposited cream
"Fucking hell, guys." The dude whose load we're fighting over sounds dazed, as he practically topples off me sideways and lands heavily on the couch.
I drag my head away from the not-quite-a-kiss - Harper still doing his best to lick my chin - to see Riley kneeling between my thighs. There's amusement on his face, certainly, but that's not all. His cheeks flushed, pupils swollen. Lips full, as though he's been biting them. I don't even have words to describe the strange swell of my ego, at knowing instantly that it's fucking me which has driven him past his usual composure.
The jab of his hips, setting me gasping and squirming as his cock digs against my tender insides, feels like Riley's reminder that I'm hardly the holding it together myself. He waits, until my watering eyes have cleared enough to focus again, before he winks at me.
"You gonna squeal, then, for all your friends to hear?"
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