The walk home from Derek's house should have cleared my head.
It didn't.
My ass was throbbing with every step, Derek's cum still leaking into my underwear, creating a wet spot that rubbed against my skin with each movement. My thighs were sticky with it. I could smell it on myself—that thick, musky scent of sex and shame and something else I didn't want to name.
Want.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that seemed obscene given what had just happened. Given what I'd let happen. What I'd wanted to happen, even when Derek was hurting me, even when he was calling me a slut and fucking me without mercy.
I'd come so close to coming myself. Just from his cock inside me, from the pain and the fullness and the way he'd admitted he wanted me even while hating himself for it.
My cock was getting hard again just thinking about it.
I was so fucked up.
The street was quiet, most people inside having dinner with their families. Normal people doing normal things. Not walking home with another man's cum dripping down their legs, not replaying the feeling of being bent over and used and marked.
I was three blocks from home when I heard it.
The low rumble of an engine slowing down behind me.
My heart stopped.
I knew that sound. Knew it in my bones, in the part of me that had learned to recognize danger and desire as the same thing.
A police cruiser pulled up alongside me, the window rolling down with an electric hum.
Marcus Chen looked at me from the driver's seat, his dark eyes taking in everything—my flushed face, my rumpled clothes, the way I was walking with my thighs pressed together trying to keep Derek's cum from running down my legs.
He smiled.
"Need a ride, Chance?"
My mouth went dry. "I'm almost home."
"Get in the car." It wasn't a request.
I looked around. The street was empty. No witnesses. No one to see me getting into Marcus's cruiser, no one to ask questions.
"I said get in the car, boy." His voice dropped lower, that commanding tone that made my cock throb in my shorts.
I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. The interior smelled like coffee and leather and Marcus's cologne—something dark and masculine that made my head spin.
I slid into the seat, and Marcus pulled away from the curb before I'd even closed the door.
"Where were you?" he asked, his eyes on the road, his voice casual.
"Just... walking."
"Bullshit." He glanced at me, and I could see the knowing look in his eyes. "You smell like cum. And you're walking like someone just fucked you."
My face burned. "I don't know what you're—"
"Derek Morrison lives three blocks that way." Marcus jerked his head in the direction we'd come from. "His wife's out of town. And you're walking home from his neighborhood smelling like you just got bred."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't deny it.
Marcus laughed, a low, dark sound. "Did he fuck you good, boy? Did he stretch that tight little hole?"
"Please," I whispered. "Just take me home."
"I will." Marcus's hand moved to my thigh, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. "But first, you're gonna prove something to me."
"What?"
"That you're the slut I think you are." His hand slid higher, fingers brushing against the wet spot on my shorts. "That you didn't just let Derek fuck you because you were scared. That you wanted it."
My cock was fully hard now, pressing against my zipper, and Marcus could see it. Could see everything.
"I want you to jerk off," Marcus said, his voice low and commanding. "Right here. In the back of my cruiser. While I drive you home."
"What? No, I can't—"
"You can." His hand squeezed my thigh again, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "And you will. Because if you don't, I'm gonna pull over right now and fuck you in the back seat. And then I'm gonna drive you home and tell your daddy I caught you soliciting sex from men on the street corner."
The threat hung in the air between us.
"Get in the back," Marcus ordered.
My hands were shaking as I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed between the seats into the back of the cruiser. The cage separated me from Marcus, metal mesh that made me feel trapped, caged, owned.
"Take off your shorts," Marcus said, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to watch me.
I pulled my shorts and underwear down, and Derek's cum immediately started running down my thighs, pooling on the vinyl seat beneath me. My cock sprang free, hard and dripping, and I heard Marcus groan.
"Fuck, look at you," he breathed. "Leaking another man's cum and still hard as a rock. You really are a slut, aren't you?"
"Yes," I whispered, because there was no point denying it anymore.
"Say it louder. Tell me what you are."
"I'm a slut." My voice was stronger now, my hand wrapping around my cock automatically.
"That's right." Marcus's eyes were locked on me in the mirror as he drove, his own hand moving to his crotch, adjusting the obvious bulge there. "Now stroke that cock. Show me how much you liked getting fucked by Derek. Show me how much you want more."
I started stroking, my hand moving in long, slow strokes from base to tip. My cock was so sensitive, still worked up from Derek's brutal fucking, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
"Talk to me," Marcus commanded. "Tell me what Derek did to you."
"He... he fucked me." My voice was breathy, high-pitched with arousal. "On his couch. Without lube. It hurt so much but I wanted it. I wanted him to use me."
"Did he cum inside you?"
"Yes." I stroked faster, my hips jerking up into my hand. "He came so much. Filled me up. Said he was marking me as his."
"Fuck." Marcus's hand was rubbing his cock through his uniform pants now, his breathing getting heavier. "What else? What else did he do?"
"He slapped my ass. Called me a slut. Told me I asked for it." The words were tumbling out now, my shame and arousal mixing together until I couldn't tell them apart. "He said he wanted me. That he couldn't stop thinking about me. That he hated me for making him feel that way."
"And you loved it, didn't you?" Marcus's voice was rough. "Loved being used. Loved having his cock inside you."
"Yes, sir." The words came out automatically, and I saw Marcus's eyes flash in the mirror.
"Good boy. Keep stroking. Get that cock nice and hard for me."
I stroked faster, my hand flying over my shaft, precum leaking from the tip and mixing with the remnants of Derek's cum on my thighs. The cruiser was moving through residential streets now, and I could see people in their yards, in their windows, living their normal lives while I jerked off in the back of a cop car.
"Tell me what you want," Marcus ordered. "Tell me what you're thinking about."
"I'm thinking about you," I gasped. "About Thursday night. About your cock inside me. About how thick you were, how deep you went. About your cum filling me up."
"You want more of that?"
"Yes, sir. Please."
"You want me to fuck you again? Use you like the slut you are?"
"Yes, sir. God, yes."
"Then you better make yourself cum," Marcus said. "Because we're almost at your house. And if you don't cum before we get there, I'm gonna make you walk inside with that hard cock and explain to your daddy why you're so worked up."
The threat sent a jolt of fear and arousal through me. I stroked harder, faster, my other hand moving down to cup my balls, squeezing them the way Marcus had on Thursday night.
"That's it," Marcus encouraged. "Stroke that cock. Think about me fucking you. Think about Derek's cum inside you. Think about being our slut, our toy, our fucking property."
I was so close. So fucking close. My balls were tight against my body, my cock throbbing in my hand, and I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine.
"Cum for me, boy," Marcus commanded. "Cum right fucking now."
I came with a strangled cry, my cock pulsing in my hand, thick ropes of cum shooting out and hitting the cage, the seat, my chest. So much cum, more than I'd ever produced before, and I kept stroking, milking every last drop from my shaft while Marcus watched in the mirror.
"Good boy," Marcus said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good fucking boy."
The cruiser slowed, and I realized we weren't at my house.
We were at the police station.
My stomach dropped. "Marcus, what—"
"Get dressed," he said, pulling into the parking lot behind the building. "We're not done yet."
"You said you'd take me home."
"I will." He put the car in park and turned to look at me through the cage. "After you prove you're really the slut you say you are."
"I just—"
"That wasn't enough." His eyes were hard, calculating. "You jerked off. Big deal. Any horny teenager can jerk off. I want to see if you can handle more."
"More what?"
Marcus smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. "You'll see. Now get dressed and get out of the car."
My hands were shaking as I pulled my shorts back on, my cum cooling on my chest, Derek's cum still leaking from my ass. I climbed out of the cruiser on unsteady legs, and Marcus grabbed my arm, his grip iron-hard.
"This way."
He led me through a back entrance, past empty offices and dark hallways. It was late—after seven on a Saturday evening—and the station was mostly deserted. Our footsteps echoed on the tile floor, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Marcus stopped at a door marked "Locker Room" and pushed it open.
Inside was another man.
He was older than Marcus, maybe fifty-five, with a thick build that had gone soft around the middle but was still powerful. His hair was gray, cut military-short, and his face was weathered and hard. He was in uniform, his shirt stretched tight across a barrel chest covered in gray hair that I could see through the thin fabric.
He looked up when we entered, his eyes moving from Marcus to me and back again.
"This him?" His voice was deep, gravelly, like he'd smoked for forty years.
"Yeah." Marcus pushed me forward. "Captain, this is Chance. Chance, this is Captain Hendricks. My boss."
My blood ran cold.
Captain Hendricks stood up, and I could see he was massive—six-foot-four at least, probably two-eighty, with hands the size of dinner plates. His uniform pants were tight across thick thighs, and I could see the outline of his cock, thick and heavy even soft.
"So this is the coach's boy," Hendricks said, walking around me in a slow circle. "The one you've been telling me about."
Marcus had told him. Had told his boss about me.
"Yes, sir," Marcus said.
"And you say he's a slut?" Hendricks stopped in front of me, so close I could smell him—sweat and coffee and something else, something masculine and overwhelming. "That he likes getting fucked by men?"
"He does, sir. Just got done getting bred by Derek Morrison. Walked home with cum dripping down his legs."
Hendricks's eyes narrowed. "That true, boy?"
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move.
"Answer the Captain," Marcus ordered, his hand gripping the back of my neck.
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"Yes, sir, what?"
"Yes, sir, I... I got fucked by Derek Morrison."
"And you liked it?"
"Yes, sir."
Hendricks smiled, and it was predatory, hungry. "Marcus says you're a natural cocksucker. Says you took his whole cock down your throat on your first try."
"I... yes, sir."
"Show me."
My eyes widened. "What?"
"I said show me." Hendricks started unbuckling his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a sound that made my cock twitch in my shorts. "Get on your knees and show me what that pretty mouth can do."
I looked at Marcus, hoping for... what? Mercy? Permission? But he just nodded, his expression hard.
"Do what the Captain says, Chance. Unless you want me to call your daddy right now and tell him where you are."
I sank to my knees on the cold tile floor.
Hendricks pulled down his pants and underwear, and his cock sprang free.
Holy fuck.
It was massive. Bigger than Marcus, bigger than Derek, bigger than anything I'd ever seen. Had to be ten inches soft, thick as a beer can, uncut with a heavy foreskin that covered most of the head. His balls were enormous, hanging low in a sack covered in gray hair, and his thighs were like tree trunks, covered in the same gray fur.
"Open up, boy," Hendricks ordered, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking it slowly.
I opened my mouth, and he pushed inside.
The taste was overwhelming—salt and musk and sweat and something else, something primal and masculine that made my cock instantly hard again. His cock was so thick I could barely get my lips around it, and he wasn't even fully hard yet.
"That's it," Hendricks groaned, his hand tangling in my hair. "Suck that cock. Show me what Marcus has been bragging about."
I sucked as best I could, my tongue swirling around the head, my lips stretched obscenely wide. His cock was getting harder now, swelling in my mouth, and I could feel it hitting the back of my throat, making me gag.
"Relax your throat," Marcus said from behind me. I could hear him moving, could hear the sound of his own belt unbuckling. "Let him in. You can take it."
I tried to relax, tried to open my throat, and Hendricks pushed deeper. I gagged again, tears streaming down my face, but he didn't pull back. Just kept pushing until his cock was buried in my throat, his balls pressed against my chin.
"Fuck yes," Hendricks groaned. "Marcus, you weren't lying. This boy's got a throat made for cock."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only feel the massive shaft filling my throat, stretching me, using me.
Hendricks pulled back, and I gasped for air, saliva dripping down my chin. But he didn't give me long to recover. Just pushed back in, starting to fuck my face with long, slow strokes.
Behind me, I heard Marcus groan, and I realized he was jerking off, watching his boss use my mouth.
"You like that, boy?" Hendricks asked, his voice rough. "Like having a real man's cock in your throat?"
I couldn't answer with his cock in my mouth, but I moaned, and that seemed to be enough.
"He's loving it, Captain," Marcus said. "Look at him. Cock hard in his shorts, taking your dick like he was born for it."
Hendricks fucked my face harder, faster, his hips slamming forward, his balls slapping against my chin with each thrust. I could feel his cock getting thicker, harder, and I knew he was getting close.
"Gonna cum down your throat, boy," Hendricks grunted. "Gonna fill you up. And you're gonna swallow every fucking drop."
His cock pulsed, and then he was coming, thick ropes of cum shooting directly down my throat. So much cum, more than Marcus, more than Derek, flooding my throat until I had to swallow or choke. I swallowed frantically, trying to keep up, but some of it leaked out around his cock, dripping down my chin.
Hendricks kept thrusting, kept cumming, until finally he pulled out. His cock was still semi-hard, glistening with cum and saliva, and he stroked it slowly, milking the last few drops onto my face.
"Good boy," he said, his voice satisfied. "Real good boy."
I was gasping for air, my throat raw, my face covered in cum. Behind me, I heard Marcus groan, and then I felt hot liquid hitting my back. He'd come too, jerking off while watching me suck his boss's cock.
"Stand up," Hendricks ordered.
I stood on shaky legs, and Hendricks grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.
"Marcus says you can take a cock in your ass too. That true?"
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"Then strip. Let's see what we're working with."
I pulled off my shirt, then my shorts and underwear, standing naked in the police station locker room while two cops in uniform looked at me like I was a piece of meat.
"Turn around," Hendricks said. "Bend over. Show me that hole."
I turned and bent over, my hands bracing against the bench. I could feel Derek's cum still leaking out of me, running down my thighs, and I heard both men groan.
"Fuck, he's already been bred," Hendricks said. "Look at that. Hole's all stretched out and dripping."
"Told you," Marcus said. "Derek fucked him raw this afternoon. Came inside him without a condom."
Hendricks's hand came down on my ass, a sharp slap that made me yelp. "You like that, boy? Like being a cumdump for older men?"
"Yes, sir," I gasped.
Another slap, harder this time. "Say it. Tell me what you are."
"I'm a cumdump, sir. I'm a slut for older men."
"That's right." Hendricks's fingers pushed into my hole, and I moaned at the intrusion. "Fuck, he's loose. Derek really did a number on him."
"He can take more," Marcus said. "He's got a hungry hole. Needs to be filled."
Hendricks pulled his fingers out and I heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing. "Gonna fuck you now, boy. Gonna add my load to Derek's. You ready?"
"Yes, sir. Please, sir."
His cock pressed against my hole, and even stretched as I was, the thickness made me gasp. He pushed inside in one long, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against mine.
"Fuck!" I cried out, my hands gripping the bench hard enough to turn my knuckles white.
"That's it," Hendricks groaned. "Take that cock. Take all of it."
He started fucking me hard and fast, no warm-up, no mercy. Each thrust drove the air from my lungs, made me see stars. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place while he used me.
Marcus moved in front of me, his cock hard again, and pushed it into my mouth. I was being fucked from both ends, used by two cops in uniform, and I'd never been so turned on in my life.
They found a rhythm, Hendricks slamming into my ass while Marcus fucked my throat, and I was just a hole, just a toy for their pleasure. My own cock was rock hard, dripping precum onto the floor, but neither of them touched it. They didn't care if I came. This wasn't about my pleasure.
"Gonna breed this boy," Hendricks grunted. "Gonna fill him up."
"Do it, Captain," Marcus encouraged. "Mark him. Make him yours."
Hendricks's thrusts got harder, more erratic, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing inside me. I could feel the condom filling with his cum, could feel the heat of it even through the latex.
He pulled out, and I heard him tear off the condom. Then I felt his fingers pushing into my hole, and I realized he was pushing his cum inside me, mixing it with Derek's.
"There," he said with satisfaction. "Now you've got two loads in you. How's that feel, boy?"
"Good, sir," I gasped around Marcus's cock. "Thank you, sir."
Marcus pulled out of my mouth and moved behind me. "My turn."
He pushed inside my already-stretched hole, and I moaned at the familiar thickness. Marcus fucked me slower than Hendricks, more controlled, his hands roaming over my back, my ass, my hips.
"Such a good slut," he murmured. "Taking cock so well. Making me so proud."
The praise made my cock throb, made me push back against him, wanting more.
"You want to cum, boy?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, sir. Please, sir."
"Then touch yourself. Make yourself cum while I breed you."
I reached down and wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking frantically. I was so close, so worked up from being used, and it only took a few strokes before I was coming, my cock pulsing in my hand, cum shooting onto the floor.
My ass clenched around Marcus's cock, and he groaned, his thrusts getting faster. "Fuck, that's it. Milk my cock. Take my cum."
He slammed into me one last time and came, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with another load. Three men's cum inside me now, marking me, claiming me.
Marcus pulled out slowly, and I felt the cum start to leak out, running down my thighs, dripping onto the floor.
"Clean yourself up," Hendricks said, tossing me a towel. "Then get dressed."
I cleaned up as best I could, but there was no hiding what had happened. My ass was sore, my throat was raw, and I could still feel their cum inside me.
When I was dressed, Hendricks grabbed my chin again, forcing me to look at him.
"You tell anyone about this, and I'll make sure you regret it," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He released me and turned to Marcus. "He's all yours. Do what you want with him."
Marcus smiled. "Actually, Captain, I was thinking we could put him in the drunk tank for a few hours. Let him cool off."
My blood ran cold. "What?"
"There's a guy in there," Marcus continued, ignoring me. "Been in since this morning. Drunk and disorderly. Real piece of work. Big guy, probably hasn't showered in a week."
Hendricks laughed. "You want to throw the coach's boy in with him?"
"Just for an hour or two. See how he handles it."
"Marcus, please," I begged. "You said you'd take me home."
"I will," Marcus said. "After you prove you can handle whatever we throw at you."
Hendricks nodded. "Do it. But keep an eye on the cameras. Don't want the kid actually getting hurt."
Marcus grabbed my arm and led me down another hallway to a heavy metal door. He unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a small cell with concrete walls and a metal bench.
On the bench was a man.
He was huge—six-foot-five at least, probably three hundred pounds, with a shaggy beard and long, greasy hair. His clothes were filthy, stained with God knows what, and he smelled like alcohol and sweat and piss.
He looked up when we entered, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
"Got you some company, Hank," Marcus said, pushing me into the cell. "This is Chance. He's gonna keep you entertained for a while."
"Marcus, no—"
The door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place.
I was alone with Hank.
He stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and I could see the bulge in his filthy jeans. He was already getting hard.
"Well, well," he slurred, his voice rough and gravelly. "Ain't you a pretty little thing."
I backed up against the wall, my heart pounding. "Please, I don't—"
"Marcus!" Hank called out, his eyes never leaving me. "This boy here for what I think he's here for?"
Marcus's voice came through a speaker in the ceiling. "He's all yours, Hank. Do whatever you want. Just don't break him."
Hank smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. "Hear that, pretty boy? You're mine."
He advanced on me, and I had nowhere to go.
His hands grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around and slamming me face-first against the wall. I felt his body press against my back, his cock hard and thick through his jeans, grinding against my ass.
"Gonna fuck you," he breathed in my ear, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. "Gonna use that tight little hole."
"Please," I whimpered, but I didn't know if I was begging him to stop or to keep going.
His hands yanked down my shorts, and I heard him fumbling with his zipper. Then I felt his cock, hot and thick and unwashed, pressing against my hole.
He pushed inside with one brutal thrust, and I screamed. He was huge, bigger than Hendricks, and he didn't care that I was already sore, already stretched. He just fucked me hard and fast, his hands gripping my hips, his body crushing me against the wall.
"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted. "Tight little slut. Bet you love this. Bet you love getting fucked by a dirty old drunk."
I couldn't answer. Could only moan and gasp as he used me, as he took what he wanted without asking, without caring.
He fucked me for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, his cock pounding into me relentlessly. When he finally came, he pulled out and spun me around, jerking his cock until he came all over my face and chest, thick ropes of cum that smelled sour and wrong.
"Good boy," he slurred, tucking his cock back into his jeans. "Real good boy."
He stumbled back to the bench and passed out, leaving me standing there covered in his cum, my ass leaking, my whole body shaking.
The door opened, and Marcus stepped inside.
"Time to go," he said, his voice neutral.
I pulled up my shorts with shaking hands and followed him out of the cell. He led me to a shower room, handed me soap and a towel.
"Clean up," he ordered. "Then I'll take you home."
I showered quickly, scrubbing away the cum and sweat and shame, but I couldn't scrub away the memory. Couldn't scrub away the fact that I'd let it happen. That some part of me had wanted it.
When I was clean and dressed, Marcus led me back to his cruiser. We drove in silence, and this time he actually took me home, pulling up a block away from my house.
"Thursday," he said as I opened the door. "Away game. You'll be there."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"Good boy." He reached over and squeezed my thigh. "You did well tonight. Proved you're exactly what I thought you were."
I got out of the car and walked the last block home, my body aching, my mind reeling.
Dad's truck was in the driveway. The lights were on inside.
I took a deep breath and went inside, praying he wouldn't notice. Wouldn't ask questions. Wouldn't see what I'd become.
"Chance? That you?" Dad's voice came from the living room.
"Yeah, Dad. Just got back from... from a friend's house."
"It's late. You should've called."
"Sorry. Lost track of time."
I headed for the stairs, desperate to get to my room, to be alone.
"Chance."
I froze.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"You okay? You look... tired."
"I'm fine. Just gonna go to bed."
"Alright. See you in the morning."
I made it to my room and closed the door, leaning against it, my whole body shaking.
Thursday. The away game.
Marcus would be there.
And I would be too.
Because I didn't have a choice.
Because I was exactly what he said I was.
A slut.
A cumdump.
His.
Author Note: I'm coming to the end of pre-written material. Any direction in particular you want this to go after the up coming away game? Sound off below... This is my first time publishing my work anywhere and I'm anxious to know what's working and what isn't.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
