Rim of the Pacific
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
Connor didn’t waste any time.
His pants were off first, then the tank top he’d been wearing. It looked like a rag, but it probably cost more than all the clothes I would’ve worn that day — if I’d been wearing clothes.
I could see the thin lines of sweat running down his torso. A few days ago, they might’ve just been an embellishment. Something that made his muscles glisten a little more in the Hawaiian sunlight. Now though, in the warped state these boys had me in, it looked like an elixir from heaven. Something I needed a taste of.
I wanted to lick it off his chest so bad.
Was I becoming gross?
I used to freak out at them if they wanted their dicks sucked and hadn’t showered for me. Now here I was, spiraling for Connor’s fresh sweat.
Bryson didn’t make things any better. He stepped up from behind me, placing his strong, firm hands on my naked shoulders and pressed up behind me. I could feel the sweat from his shorts on my back too, and it made me weak. Why did I want him to rub against me harder? To feel that sweat pressed into my back? Fuck. If Bryson wanted to, I’d let him drape his sweaty ass underwear over my face then and there.
I’d thank him for it too.
The irony was, Bryson was exactly the person who could probably explain it all to me. Or at least he’d try to. He’d go on about “guy pheromones and shit” or maybe tell me it was just being in the presence of so many hot dudes. In truth, as I’d learn the longer the week went on, it was the fact I was in chastity. Unable to take care of myself for the first time since I’d started jerking off. Irrepressibly horny.
And yeah: surrounded by five super hot bros who I knew were gonna feed me their dicks.
Bryson didn’t stop his teasing. He ground his legs and crotch into my back and the back of my head slowly and methodically, like he was a paid stripper I’d hired to do this for me. He was doing it for himself, of course, but in my super-heightened state of sexual arousal, every act felt focused on me. Little Tommy Tentpole.
I couldn’t believe Bryson had another round in him after the pool. It hadn’t been more than a few hours. I wasn’t even his type. A girl, I mean. Was this going to be the pace of the entire week? I secretly hoped it would be, but I wasn’t sure if my mouth could keep up with it if that’s what the boys were expecting.
Five rounds of feet last night. Then five cocks. Three more cocks this morning. Now I was going to suck Connor, and Bryson was here for his second round today. Grant hadn’t even used me yet.
It wasn’t even noon.
The thought simultaneously terrified me and forced my cock harder against the bars of its prison.
Connor moved closer now too, his huge cock swinging with every movement. It was almost like it moved with its own purpose. Like it knew what it was about to do to me, and it wanted it as much as I did.
Connor stopped just in front of my face, creating a jock boy sandwich, and I was the meat. I could feel the heat coming off their bodies. I could smell the scent of their sweat entangling in my nostrils, a heady scent I could only describe as a combination of man, energy, and sex all at once.
I looked up at Connor, then back at Bryson. They weren’t looking at each other; they were both looking down at me. Every iota of focus was on the plaything at their feet. I didn’t know whether to feel exposed, special, or both.
Connor grabbed his dick in one hand. I marveled then at how big it was, even soft. Almost too big for a soft dick. It had to be almost its full eight inches in that flaccid state. Obscene but so fucking gorgeous at the same time. Surrounded by a tuft of perfectly kempt blond pubes and jutting over a pair of equally mammoth balls, Connor’s cock was just as commanding as he was, even soft.
He didn’t need to get any closer to me to drape the thing over my face — all sweaty and wonderful, like a heavy blanket for my face. As soon as it landed there, I wanted it to stay forever. I could smell the unique perfume of his cock and balls, and I was in nirvana. My head started to roll back, but luckily Bryson was there to catch me.
“Whoa there, bud, don’t lose yourself,” he said.
They both laughed at my predicament as Connor began mashing his humid shaft all over my nose, cheeks, and mouth. It slowly hardened and he began to lift it up, letting it drop back down with a thud each time. He then proceeded to actively slap it up and down my jaw, along my lips, under my nostrils, and even against my closed eyes, driving me wild with lust I didn’t know I had in me.
Meanwhile, Bryson had shucked his shorts off behind me and was rapidly stroking his already hard cock as well. He obviously hadn’t been lying about how much spanking turned him on.
At this point, no matter how red my ass was, it was a small price to pay to be able to be as turned on as I fucking was right then. I’d never felt so alive. I had two hard cocks competing for entrance into my mouth now, and if anything, I felt like a really good boy.
Fuck the spanking.
Connor didn’t even say anything. He just stepped forward, still swinging that heavy dick of his like it was an extension of his will. I was still on my knees between them, and for a moment, I didn’t know who to serve first. I glanced up. Bryson’s cock was practically bouncing in front of me, leaking already. Connor’s was thicker, longer, still half-hard from slapping it across my face, but clearly ready to stiffen again in no time.
“Start with Bryson,” Connor said, his voice low but firm. “I want to watch for a minute.”
Bryson stepped in close. “Good choice,” he said, and without hesitation, shoved the head of his cock against my lips.
I opened. There was no teasing now, no testing the waters. Bryson drove straight in like he was reclaiming territory. His cock slid over my tongue, thicker than I remembered, and already tasting of sweat and pre. He set both hands on the back of my head and rolled his hips forward. The tip bumped the back of my throat almost immediately.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Such a good little throat. Goddamn.”
He didn’t fuck fast. Not yet. He just held me there, pushing in and pulling out slowly, dragging his length along my tongue like he was trying to season it with himself. I moaned without meaning to, and he rewarded me with a light slap to the side of my cheek with his palm.
I tried to smile up at him.
“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor,” he said. “You’re the one who’s lucky.”
Behind me, I could hear the slick sound of Connor stroking himself. His breath was getting heavier. I felt his foot nudge my thigh, then the ball of it press between my legs, right against the base of the cage.
“Look at you,” he said, “grinding into nothing like a fucking puppy.”
Bryson gave a few more slow thrusts, then pulled out. A thin string of spit connected the head of his cock to my bottom lip.
“My turn,” Connor said.
I barely had time to blink before he was stepping in. He grabbed my jaw, tilted my head up, and guided the head of his dick into my mouth with both hands. He didn’t go slow. He pushed right past my lips and onto my tongue in one smooth motion. The taste hit me instantly. Sweat, musk, the tang of pre-cum still clinging from earlier. He was fully hard now, and there was nothing polite about the way he used me.
“Hands behind your back,” he ordered.
I obeyed. He started thrusting, slow but heavy. Each stroke filled my mouth completely. My jaw ached already, but there was no room for hesitation. Not with Connor. He was deep, thick, powerful. He wasn’t the loudest of the boys, but the way he breathed let me know exactly how much he was enjoying himself.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You really missed this, didn’t you?”
I tried to nod with him in my mouth. The cage between my legs throbbed with every movement. My hips shifted slightly, but there was nothing I could do to relieve the pressure. I was dripping, I could feel it, slick in the metal, helpless.
Connor pulled back. “Tongue out,” he said. I obeyed, and he rubbed the head of his cock across it, back and forth, smearing pre-cum along the surface.
Bryson stepped in beside him, already stroking again.
“You’ve never looked better,” he said, laughing. “Mouth open, drooling, caged up. You’re living the dream, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. I just looked up at them both, saliva coating my chin, my knees sore from the stone patio. My throat still felt the weight of Connor’s cock, even though he was now just slapping it lazily against my cheek while Bryson circled behind me again.
“Time for something new,” Connor said. “Something I’ve been thinking about all year.”
He stepped back a little, eyes gleaming.
“I want to see what that mouth can do on my ass.”
My stomach dropped. My eyes flicked from Connor to Bryson and back. Surely, he was kidding.
He wasn’t.
Connor didn’t move right away. He stood in front of me, legs slightly apart, sweat glistening on his thighs, cock still hanging heavy and flushed. He looked down at me, then glanced at Bryson, who was slowly stroking himself again just a few feet away.
“I never told you guys about the rim job thing, did I?” Connor said.
Bryson raised an eyebrow. “The what now?”
Connor smiled like it was something he’d been dying to talk about for a while.
“So, back at school, one of my roommates was hooking up with this chick. Kinda wild girl. Like, seriously didn’t give a fuck. One day I walk into our suite, and she’s got him bent over the arm of the couch—full on tongue in his ass. Just going to town.”
Bryson let out a low whistle. “No way.”
“I swear on my life,” Connor said, laughing. “I don’t think she even knew I was there. I stood there watching for like fifteen seconds before I finally bailed.”
He looked back at me. “But that was it. I’ve thought about it so many times since. And I mean, not just thought about it. I started watching that shit like crazy. Rimming videos. Mostly Girls doing it to guys. Sometimes guys doing it to girls.”
Bryson snorted.
Connor didn’t care. “Whatever. I couldn’t stop watching. But I still haven’t had anyone do it to me. Not once. And I’ve got this theory that it feels incredible. Way more than you’d think.”
His voice dropped a little. “So I wanna find out. And you—” he pointed at me, “—are gonna do it.”
My stomach turned a bit. I’d seen it in porn too. Always tops prepping bottoms. Twinks doing it to their boyfriends before railing them. It always looked kind of hot. But this was different. This wasn’t preparation. This was… service. Worship. And Connor wasn’t just asking. He expected it.
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure what to say. His cock was still hard, his body gleaming with sweat, and even though I felt myself twitch inside the cage again, something held me back.
Connor didn’t wait for permission.
He turned around slowly, bent forward slightly, and spread his cheeks.
“Right here,” he said.
His hole was flushed and damp with sweat. His crack was glistening. The scent hit me a second later. Musky. Different. Not awful, but definitely sweaty. This wasn’t fresh from the shower. This was post-tennis game ass. This was man.
I didn’t move.
Connor looked back over his shoulder.
“What’s the holdup?” he asked.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I wasn’t trying to disobey. I just didn’t know how to start.
Connor didn’t have the patience for it.
“Bryson,” he said.
“Yup?” came the voice behind me.
“Start spanking him. He’s being shy.”
Bryson practically jumped into action. I felt his hands on my hips first, then the crack of his palm across my ass. I flinched hard. The cage throbbed.
Another spank. Harder this time.
“Come on, dude,” Bryson said. “You know you’re gonna end up doing it. Might as well get to it.”
Crack. Another one. Sharp and stinging.
I winced. My knees shifted against the stones. The humiliation of it all pulsed through me. On my knees, naked, caged, being spanked for not licking my friend’s ass fast enough. But they were right. This was what I’d agreed to.
Another hit.
And another.
By the twelfth or thirteenth, my eyes were stinging. Not from the pain. From the realization. There was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to hide. They owned me this week. They weren’t bluffing. If I didn’t do it now, I’d get nothing. No time with them. No inclusion. No cocks. No affection. Just isolation in that villa, alone with my hard, caged cock and all my shame.
My body gave in before my brain did.
I leaned forward.
Connor didn’t say a word. He just stayed bent, letting me choose when to start. The scent was even stronger now. My breath caught. I pressed my hands into the patio to steady myself and stuck out my tongue.
The first taste was sweat. Warm, salty, human. My nose was pressed against the top of his crack, and I could feel the slickness of his skin beneath it. My tongue moved slow at first, barely skimming the surface. I traced the edges of his hole cautiously, unsure of how much pressure to use, how deep to go.
Connor let out a low groan.
Bryson laughed. “There we go. This is fucking amazing.”
I kept going. It wasn’t awful. It was intimate in a way that none of the other stuff had been. Personal. Animal. I flattened my tongue and licked upward, then down again, slowly building confidence. I could hear Connor’s breathing change. He wasn’t faking it. He was enjoying this.
I licked again, more firmly. Then again. My face was buried now. I could feel the heat of his body, the clench of his glutes when I hit the right spot. I started using the tip of my tongue to tease the center, then press in gently. The reaction was immediate—Connor groaned louder, steadying himself with one hand on the wicker chair.
I didn’t stop.
In fact, I started to enjoy it.
The taste shifted from salty to something else. Something earthy, warm. I pushed in deeper. Swirled my tongue. My face was soaked with sweat now—his and mine—and the more I licked, the more my cock ached in its cage. I started to pant, tongue flicking, mouth wide open, devouring him like I couldn’t get enough.
Bryson’s voice cut in. “Holy shit, look at him. He’s actually into it.”
Connor didn’t even laugh. He just groaned again.
“Fucking pigging out back there.”
I froze for a second.
“Keep going,” Connor said, not even turning around. “You’re doing great.”
My cheeks burned with shame. I was mortified. I couldn’t believe I was on my knees, tonguing my friend’s sweaty asshole like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted, and that they were mocking me for how into it I looked.
But I didn’t stop.
Because I was into it.
Because the teasing, the humiliation, the taste, the pressure in the cage, all of it had fused together into something I couldn’t name. And stopping now felt worse than continuing. So, I buried my face deeper, widened my tongue, and kept licking like a good boy.
Connor was panting now, his thighs shaking slightly. I could hear how close he was.
When he finally pulled away, he turned slowly, his cock standing straight and leaking.
“Fucking unreal,” he said.
Then he looked at Bryson.
“Your turn?”
Bryson wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m good. Not really into that. The idea of anyone playing with my asshole. Nahhh. That’s your thing.”
Connor shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you, it’s fucking amazing.”
Bryson looked down at me. “But I’m definitely ready to finish in that mouth again.”
Connor grinned. “Same.”
They didn’t give me time to recover. Both stepped forward, cocks out, dripping, and I knew what was coming next.
Bryson was already stroking himself as he stepped in. His cock looked even harder now than it had at the pool. The head flushed, slick with pre, his whole body buzzing with energy. He barely glanced at Connor before nudging me with his foot.
“On your back.”
I hesitated for half a second, then shifted down, laying flat against the warm stone. My caged cock throbbed against the patio as I moved. The second my shoulders touched the ground, Bryson straddled my chest, knees pinning me down.
He didn’t tease this time. He guided his cock straight into my mouth and groaned as I took him deep again. The position was awkward, but he didn’t care. He set a rhythm, hips grinding forward and back while he looked down at me like he was watching himself in a mirror.
“God, you look disgusting,” he said, but his voice sounded proud. “All fucked out, all sweaty, tongue still wet from Connor’s ass, and now you’re sucking me again. You’re actually perfect.”
He picked up the pace. I couldn’t move. His hands planted on my shoulders. I had no choice but to lie there and take it. Every thrust hit deeper. Every slap of his thighs against my chest made the cage twitch harder.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re better than I remember. Way better.”
He was breathing heavier now, hips jerking faster. His abs flexed. I tried to brace myself. His thrusts grew erratic. I felt his cock throb once, then twice.
“Don’t spill a drop.”
Then it hit. Hot, thick pulses. He came hard, unloading deep in my throat. I swallowed instinctively, helpless to do anything else. The taste was bitter and sharp, and still I kept swallowing. He held himself there until every last drop was gone, then pulled out slowly and slapped the head of his cock against my tongue once for good measure.
“Fuck yes,” he said, standing up. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Connor stepped in before I could even sit up. He dropped to one knee beside me and took my chin in his hand.
“Open,” he said.
I did.
He stroked himself once, twice, then fed me the tip. His breathing was already fast. The rimming had clearly brought him close, and now he was finishing what he’d started. He slid his cock in until it touched the back of my throat again, then held it there, groaning low in his chest.
I could taste his sweat again. His shaft was still slick. My lips sealed around him as he began to thrust, slow but deep. His balls swung forward with every movement, heavy against my chin. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His focus was total.
I moaned softly, wanting to give him everything I could.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.”
His strokes shortened. He grunted, jaw tight. He grabbed the sides of my head and drove in once more, bottoming out just as he came. I felt it hit my throat, the warmth of it spreading. He held there, body trembling, every muscle locked. My eyes watered. I stayed still, let him finish, didn’t pull away.
When he finally let go, he leaned over and brushed my hair back from my face with surprising tenderness.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he said, quiet but serious.
I swallowed again, licked my lips, and looked up at both of them, still panting.
Bryson handed Connor a towel from one of the lounge chairs. Connor used it to wipe a trickle of sweat from his brow, then handed it to me. I used it to clean my chin, my cheeks, the spit and sweat and cum that had dried across my face.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
Bryson laughed. “You’re thanking us?”
I didn’t reply.
Connor gave me one more look. “Come on. Let’s go find the others.”
They both walked off toward the main path, casual as anything.
I stayed where I was for a second longer, still tasting them in my mouth, still throbbing in the cage, and trying to make sense of the fact that I’d just rimmed my friend’s sweaty asshole and then sucked them both off like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And the worst part?
I’d fucking loved it.
I didn’t get up right away.
The stone beneath me was warm from the sun, slick with the sweat and spit that had rolled off all three of us. My jaw ached, my throat was raw, my knees felt bruised, and my whole body was humming in the cage. But I just lay there, staring up at the clouds and trying to process what had just happened.
I’d rimmed Connor.
Not just rimmed him. Devoured him. Gone full face-first into one of my straight best friend’s sweaty, unwashed assholes and licked like it was my job. Like it was my favorite flavor. And it wasn’t just that I’d done it. It was that I’d liked it.
No. Loved it.
I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore. I’d gotten so lost in the moment, so drunk on the taste and the sounds he made, that I hadn’t wanted to stop. Not even when they teased me. Not even when they humiliated me for enjoying it. Because the humiliation made it better.
I had no idea what that meant.
I didn’t know what was happening to me. All I knew was that my cock had been painfully hard in its cage the whole time. That I had swallowed every drop they gave me. That I hadn’t once thought about backing out.
And that we were only on day two.
They were already calling me their slave. Already making use of my mouth like it belonged to them. Already making rules and doling out punishments and telling me exactly what they expected for the rest of the week.
I had no idea what else they might make me do.
And maybe the scariest part was that I kind of wanted to find out.
I pushed myself up slowly, wiped my face one more time, and started walking barefoot down the path they’d taken. My ass still stung from the spanking. My throat was coated in cum. My lips felt stretched and sore.
And I couldn’t stop smiling.
Whatever came next, I knew one thing for sure:
There was no going back.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
