Friday – You’ll Do
The crew arrived Friday morning with a different kind of hunger.
They knew Jack was there. They knew Ethan was there. And after everything that had happened the last three days---especially the father-son depravity the night before---the men were no longer pretending to be ashamed. They were addicted.
Jack, however, was sore.
He had barely slept. His hole was swollen, puffy, and tender from taking load after load for three days in a row. When he heard the trucks pull up, he stayed in his bedroom with the door closed, curled up in bed wearing just a loose t-shirt and his tiny white shorts. He genuinely didn’t think he could take any more today.
The men started “working” for about forty minutes. Then Marco gave the signal.
They came inside the house in a group, boots heavy on the floor.
“Where’s the pretty boy?” Ryan called out loudly. “Jack? Come say hi.”
No answer.
Ethan was in the kitchen grabbing water. The moment he saw the whole crew filing in, his face went pale. He still hadn’t fully processed what had happened with his dad and uncle last night.
Richard---Ethan’s father---locked eyes with his son. There was a dark, possessive heat in his gaze now.
Marco grinned. “Ethan. You’ll do for starters.”
They swarmed the 20-year-old first.
Big Tommy grabbed Ethan from behind, pinning his arms while Ryan and Steve yanked his work shorts down. Ethan’s cock was already half-hard from the tension.
“Wait— guys, not right now—” Ethan protested weakly.
But they didn’t listen. Marco dropped to his knees and swallowed Ethan’s cock in one smooth motion while Derek shoved his tongue into the younger man’s ass. Ethan moaned despite himself, legs shaking.
Richard watched his son getting used, his own thick cock hardening rapidly in his pants.
They bent Ethan over the kitchen table and started fucking him---one after another, raw and aggressive. Vince (one of the newer guys) was especially brutal, pounding Ethan’s hole while calling him a “filthy little cocksucker just like his friend Jack.”
Ethan was moaning loudly, completely lost in it, when Marco finally looked toward the hallway.
“Where the fuck is Jack? Go get him.”
Two men went down the hall. They found Jack’s bedroom door locked.
“Jack,” Marco called through the door, voice deep and commanding. “Open up, boy.”
“I… I’m really sore today,” Jack replied softly from inside. “I think I need a break…”
The men didn’t accept that answer.
Steve kicked the door open with one heavy boot. Jack yelped as they stepped inside. He tried to pull the blanket over himself, but Ryan and Tommy grabbed him, dragging the reluctant 19-year-old out of bed and down the hallway toward the living room.
“No— wait, please, I’m too sore—” Jack protested, his voice soft and genuinely nervous, big blue eyes wide with worry. His legs were shaky as they carried him.
They dumped him on the couch right next to where Ethan was currently getting railed by Richard.
The sight of Jack---still in those tiny white shorts, buzzed blond hair messy, looking sweet and vulnerable---made every man in the room throb.
Marco pulled Jack’s shorts down despite the boy’s weak resistance. His hole was visibly swollen and puffy, still leaking remnants from yesterday.
“Poor baby,” Marco murmured, not sounding sorry at all. “We’ll be gentle.”
They were not gentle.
While Ethan continued getting fucked beside him, the men descended on Jack. Kyle held Jack’s legs open while Marco slowly pushed back into his sore hole. Jack whimpered, biting his lip hard.
“It hurts a little…” he breathed, voice trembling with that wondrous, overwhelmed tone.
But his thick cock was rock hard and leaking.
They took turns on both boys for the rest of the morning and deep into the afternoon. Jack’s reluctance slowly melted as the familiar stretch and fullness returned. Soon he was moaning again, pushing back to meet the cocks destroying his sore hole, even as tears of overstimulation pricked his eyes.
Ethan and Jack ended up face-to-face on the couch, kissing sloppily while the rest of the crew took turns on them. Richard fucked his own son while watching Jack get pounded, then switched to Jack for a while, clearly obsessed.
By late afternoon both boys were completely wrecked again---holes gaping, bodies covered in multiple loads of thick cum, faces glazed, the entire living room reeking of sex.
Jack lay there panting, looking up at the men with exhausted but satisfied eyes.
Marco wiped sweat from his brow and smirked down at the two cum-drenched boys.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. You get the break you wanted. But next week we’re bringing even more guys.”
Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from moaning:
“…Okay.”
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End of Chapter 8
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