Monday – Logan's Turn
Monday morning the crew returned to the house like it was any other workday.
They unloaded tools, hammered a few boards, and tried---for about thirty minutes---to pretend nothing had happened over the past week. The shame and tension were palpable. No one mentioned Jack. No one mentioned the endless loads, the wrecked couch, or the depravity.
But they all knew why they were really there.
Around 10 AM, during the first real break, the men started drifting inside the house. Jack was in the kitchen, still visibly sore from his wild Sunday. He moved gingerly, wincing as he reached for glasses to offer them water. He was wearing his usual tiny white athletic shorts and nothing else.
Derek was the last to come inside---and he wasn’t alone.
Walking beside him was his 19-year-old son, Logan. Logan was a lean, athletic boy with short brown hair and a nervous expression, clearly uncomfortable. Derek had brought him under the vague excuse of “showing him the job,” but everyone knew better.
Jack’s eyes widened when he saw the handsome new face. He was already sore and hesitant. “Um… hi,” he said softly, big blue puppy-dog eyes uncertain. “I’m… not really feeling up to anything today. I’m pretty sore.”
The men exchanged glances. Marco smirked.
“That’s too bad, Jack,” he said. “Because we’ve been thinking about you all weekend.”
They started on Logan first.
Big Tommy and Tank grabbed the nervous 19-year-old, pinning him against the counter while they stripped him. Logan protested weakly, but his cock was already hard. Derek stood back, watching with dark, hungry eyes as the crew descended on his own son.
They bent Logan over the kitchen island and took turns fucking him raw. Vince went first, slamming into the boy with aggressive strokes. Logan moaned loudly, clearly no stranger to this treatment. Tank followed, then Kyle. The men were rough, calling Logan a “chip off the old block” and a “perfect little cumdump just like his dad raised him.”
Jack watched from the side, cheeks flushed, his own thick cock hardening in his shorts despite his soreness.
After they had all taken a turn on Logan, the men’s attention shifted back to Jack.
“Come here, boy,” Marco ordered.
Jack hesitated, backing up a step. “I’m kinda sore from yesterday. I don’t know—”
They weren't listening. Tank and Steve grabbed him, leading the hesitant blond out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jack cooed as they yanked his shorts down, exposing his swollen, puffy hole.
Marco pushed him onto the couch and slid back inside him. Jack gasped sharply. “It hurts…” he breathed, but he still pushed back, taking the thick cock.
While Jack was getting fucked, the men continued using Logan right beside him as he moaned deep into the cushions.
Derek watched the entire time, stroking his long veiny cock. His eyes were locked on his son getting railed by the crew. The other men were astonished when Derek finally stepped forward.
“Move,” Derek growled.
The men pulled out of Logan. Derek grabbed his son by the hips, lined up his cock, and slammed into him brutally. He fucked Logan with savage, possessive strokes---much harder than the others had.
“Take Daddy’s cock, boy,” Derek grunted, pounding his own son without mercy while the rest of the crew watched in stunned silence.
Richard, who had been fucking Jack at that moment, grinned darkly with clear approval. “That’s it, Derek. Give the boy what he needs.”
Derek railed his son for a long time, finally unloading deep inside him with a guttural groan. When he pulled out, thick cum poured from Logan’s wrecked hole.
The men were momentarily speechless.
“Goddamn, Derek,” Marco muttered. “Didn’t know you had it in you like that.”
Derek just smirked, breathing hard, and looked over at Jack.
The rest of the afternoon was pure filth. They rotated between Jack and Logan, using both boys mercilessly. Jack’s reluctance slowly faded as he was stretched and filled again, his sweet moans filling the house once more.
By the end of the day, both 19-year-olds were destroyed---gaping holes, cum-covered bodies, exhausted on the couch.
Marco looked down at them with satisfaction.
“See you tomorrow, boys.”
Jack, voice hoarse, looked up with tired but satisfied eyes.
“…Yes.”
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