Tuesday – The Whole Crew
Tuesday, one week after everything started, was the day everything exploded.
Word had spread like wildfire through the construction company. By Monday night, texts, photos, and videos of the sweet blond boy taking load after load had circulated among the crews. On Tuesday morning, instead of the usual eight men, nearly twenty-five showed up at the house.
Trucks filled the street. Men of all ages---rough, sweaty, working-class---spilled out onto the lawn. Some had brought their sons. The air crackled with raw, masculine hunger.
Jack opened the door wearing only his tiny white shorts. His eyes widened at the sheer number of men.
“Oh… wow,” he breathed softly, that familiar look of gentle wonder on his face. He was still sore from the weekend, but the sight of so many hard cocks already straining against work pants made his own thick dick twitch.
Marco stepped forward with a grin. “Hope you’re ready, boy. The whole crew wants a turn today.”
They didn’t waste time.
Jack was pulled into the living room and stripped immediately. The gangbang began in earnest and lasted the entire day.
They started with him on his knees in the center of the room. One after another, the men fed him their cocks---thick, veiny, sweaty, unwashed. Jack sucked them with soft, sweet moans, his big blue eyes looking up innocently even as drool and pre-cum ran down his chin. Fathers and sons stood side by side, stroking, sometimes kissing each other while Jack worshipped their cocks.
They bent him over the couch next. The train started. Marco went first, slamming into Jack’s still-tender hole and pumping a thick morning load deep inside him. Then came Vince, then Tank, then Richard, then Derek. Load after load was dumped into him. By the tenth man, cum was farting out of Jack’s hole with every thrust, running down his milky thighs in heavy white rivers.
The house filled with the wet sounds of fucking, grunting, and filthy encouragement.
“Drain those balls, boy.”
“Take every fucking load.”
“Look at this little cumdump.”
Some of the father-son pairs fucked Jack together. One father would pound his ass while his son fed Jack his cock. Others simply watched their sons get used before stepping in to breed Jack themselves.
They moved him from room to room. Kitchen island. Dining table. Father's bed. Jack’s own bed. They DP’d him repeatedly, stretched him wide, made him ride cock after cock while sucking others. Jack’s own thick dick stayed hard most of the day, shooting load after load onto the floor or onto whoever was beneath him.
By late afternoon, all twenty-five men had used him at least once. Many had gone twice. Jack’s hole was a ruined, gaping wreck---permanently stretched, constantly leaking thick ropes of cum. The living room, hallway, and bedrooms were absolutely destroyed: soaked in sweat, cum, piss, and spit. The stench of sperm was so strong it wafted out the front door and could be smelled from the sidewalk.
Jack lay on the floor in the living room, barely able to move. Cum poured steadily from his loose, ruined hole, forming a puddle beneath him. His face, hair, chest, and belly were glazed with layer after layer of drying loads. He looked utterly spent, breathing softly, eyes half-lidded.
The men finally started leaving around 6 PM, exhausted and drained. Marco patted Jack’s cum-covered cheek one last time.
“Good fucking, boy. See you tomorrow.”
The last truck pulled away.
Jack was still lying there, trying to catch his breath, when the front door opened.
His father, Michael, stepped inside---home a day early from his business trip.
Michael froze in the doorway.
The house reeked of sex. The furniture was ruined. And in the middle of the living room floor lay his nineteen-year-old son---naked, covered head to toe in dried and fresh cum, thick white sperm still slowly pouring out of his gaping, wrecked hole onto the carpet.
Jack looked up at his father with those big, exhausted blue eyes, voice barely a whisper:
“…Hi Dad. You’re home early.”
Michael stood there, suitcase still in hand, face pale with shock as he tried to comprehend the obscene scene before him.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
