Nathan's Seduction
I woke up with a sluggish feeling in my big bed. The ache in my body was a reminder of the intense activities from the Friday night before. I stretched out, enjoying the sensation of not having to do anything. It was a late Sunday start for me, a lazy day where time seemed to stand still. If not for my sore butt, I would have felt great. The texts from Sam and Dave, checking if I was alright, went unanswered. I wasn't ready to talk to them, not after what happened on Friday.
I felt a mix of stupidity and childishness about my reaction that night. I stormed out, naked except for a raging hard-on, and let them have it. If either of them had confronted me directly, things would have escalated quickly. But they must have seen the fury in my eyes because I left in a haze of anger, grabbing my things and slamming the door behind me.
Did I enjoy it? Yes. The raw passion and intensity were intoxicating. But the aftermath left me feeling conflicted, a blend of embarrassment and satisfaction that was both exhilarating and exhausting. As I lay in bed, I replayed the night's events, the sensations still fresh in my mind. The way their bodies moved against mine, the urgent grip of their hands, and the whispered words of desire, it was a symphony of pleasure that lingered. Yet, the reality of being their plaything left a bitter taste.
Did they go behind my back, use my breakup to their advantage? Yes, they fucking did. Did they plan my downfall the whole time, using the excuse of “new experiences”? That's exactly what they did. Did they pay? Hell no. Did they not have enough with just fucking me, ass-fucking me, and then double-fucking me like a fucking slut all while fucked up and drunk? Obviously not; they wanted more and more.
I realized I was naked when I heard my balls slapping around. After walking around feeling caged for days, I wanted nothing on me. I made my way to the fridge for a protein shake, only to find that I had bought nothing for my place, It was all shit for the party at Dave’s house.
I’m expected back at work on Monday, so there's no point in waiting until I’m starving to fill this fridge up with groceries. At the top of my fridge was the last candy bar my ex and I shared. It felt like years ago now.
I couldn't help but think that maybe things would have been different if I hadn't been so rigid. If he could see me now, I thought with a mix of anger and shame, fucked, double-stuffed, and used like a fucking rag doll. The guilt gnawed at me as I realized he had been right about Sam and Dave all along. I had blindly defended them, and now I was paying the price for my stubbornness. The pang of guilt for not being more open with my ex cut deep. I could have explored more with him, but my pride got in the way.
I picked up the half-eaten chocolate bar, its wrapper crinkled and edges softening with time. With a sense of finality, I dropped it into the trash, watching it disappear among the remnants of the day. This small, bittersweet piece of confectionery was the very last thing my ex and I had shared, a lingering reminder of what once was. It was a peculiar way for things to conclude, but nonetheless, it marked the end of a chapter that had definitely closed.
After we broke up, Dave and Sam took it upon themselves to have a few heart-to-heart conversations with him. They went several times, hoping to mend the rift and perhaps bring some clarity to the situation. They later shared with me that their efforts had been in vain.
I gathered all the trash and headed out to the dumpster. I buried all I felt on my way to my car.
I grinned bitterly, reflecting on my descent from being a top to pleading bottom. Anger welled up within me as the bitter taste of betrayal tightened my throat.
I headed down to the grocery store, crossing the parking lot in the late afternoon heat. For once, I didn’t hate what I saw reflected in car windows, just shorts and a wife beater clinging to the work I’d put in. Not like those juicehead influencers hawking fake programs. Fuck VShred!
My cart was a frozen-food graveyard, pizza boxes stacked like tombstones. What can I say? When you live on protein shakes and pre-workout, actual meals become abstract concepts.
Nathan’s voice cut through the checkout chaos: “Hey Dean, need help?”
I turned just as he closed the distance. We bumped fists, but then, whoa, the kid went in for a full bear hug. His arms locked around me with a strength that didn’t match the scrawny stock boy I remembered.
No hesitation. I hugged back hard, lifting him clean off the linoleum just to prove a point. His body pressed against mine, all hard angles and restless energy.
“Not too grown yet,” I joked, setting him down. But the truth hit me like a missed rep: The runt who used to bag my kale was gone. This was a man. His black jeans clung to thighs thickened by years of track meets, the fabric straining in ways that had nothing to do with adolescence.
He adjusted himself subtly. I pretended not to notice.
“Guess not,” he laughed, but his voice had deepened since last summer, the hunger in his eyes wasn’t for groceries.
I crouched low real low, to grab the spice bottle off the bottom shelf. "Never tried this one," I said, holding it up like I gave a damn about paprika.
Nathan’s response came half a beat too late. "Uh, yeah, I think it’s... good."
Bullshit.
I followed his gaze straight to my shorts. No underwear meant every thick outline was on display, and the kid was staring like it was his last meal. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he caught himself, cheeks flushing that perfect shade of busted.
Curious? Hell, the boy was practically vibrating with it.
I grinned. Well fuck it.
I said, “Hey, do you have your phone with you?” Nathan snapped out of his haze and said, “Yeah,” in a stupor, and pulled out his phone. I tapped it with mine, sending him my contact information.
“Did you get it?” I asked with a smile. He gulped and said, “Yeah.” His hand, I noticed, was not a little shaky. I scrolled through my pictures and found one where I was on a beach chair, nude with my 8-inch tool in hand, smiling straight into the camera. “Perfect,” I thought, and I sent it to him.
I saw his eyes widen and his mouth drop open as his pupils dilated, looking at the photo I had just sent him.
I put my hand just under his ear, holding his neck, and gave him a little shake. “You have my address; come over tonight at 7 PM,” I said, smiling.
Nathan was speechless and just gulped again. His prominent Adam's apple was easy enough to see.
I stood up to make sure my crotch was at his eye level and smiled down at him. “Here, let me help you up,” I said, and I took his hand and placed it over my crotch as I lifted him up. He reflexively gave my crotch a nice squeeze that just made me smile.
“Uhm, I, ” Nathan began to say in a garbled mess. “I will see you at 7 PM,” I interrupted and headed off to get the rest of my groceries.
The day dragged on. I wasn't holding my breath for Nathan to actually show, kids flake, especially when their curiosity outweighs their courage. But the seed was planted. That shaky hand on my crotch in the grocery aisle? The way his breath hitched when I lifted him? Yeah, the kid was hungry.
I'd keep dangling the bait. A lingering touch when handing him his change. Standing just a little too close in the frozen foods section. Let him marinate in that confusion until his curiosity boiled over.
At 5'9", he still had to look up at me, but those track-honed thighs and baseball shoulders didn't lie. The boy was built, all tight muscle and restless energy. Perfect for what I had in mind.
Anyway time to get things in order. Everything was prepped for Monday.
My work shirts hung in military formation steam-pressed, color-blocked, starch-stiff. Even the backup outfits stood ready like understudies. Polished oxfords gleamed in their cedar rack, twins buffed to mirror shine.
I wiped down the counters that were already clean. This was the ritual. The weekly reset before the grind turned my place into a warzone of protein shakers and sweaty laundry. By Friday, the chaos would return. But for now? Order. Control.
The kind you could measure in creased seams and a spotless clean apartment.
The doorbell echoed through the apartment, probably those Amazon deliveries. My place was still a shell after the split; he’d taken everything but the resentment.
I'd gone on a midnight shopping spree: toaster, blender, all the shit normal people own. As if a Cuisinart could fill the spaces he’d hollowed out.
I opened the door, expecting to find several boxes, and instead, it was Nathan. “Uhm, hey Dean,” this kid has some balls on him; I will give him that much. I pulled him in and immediately planted my mouth on his neck. “Ooooooohhhhhmmm,” I heard him moan. Nathan smelled really nice; good, he must have taken a shower before coming over.
"This way, Nathan."
I dragged the armchair to the dead center of the living room, my makeshift throne. The legs screeched against hardwood, the sound too loud in the quiet apartment.
"Sit."
He folded into the chair like his joints had forgotten how to bend. Hands gripping his knees, shoulders tense, every muscle screamed run. But his eyes...
Christ. The kid looked at me like I'd hung the moon. I cracked my knuckles. Tonight, I’m his dream come true.
"Play Maxwell," I commanded the room.
The music oozed through the speakers, slow, syrupy, the bass thumping like a second heartbeat. I let my body move with it, rolling my shoulders, my hips, every shift calculated. Nathan’s breath hitched as my fingers carded through his hair, my thumb brushing his bottom lip. "Easy, kid," I murmured. "Just feel it."
His fingers trembled on the hem of my wife beater. I arched my back to help him peel it off, revealing the years of discipline carved into my chest, my arms. His touch was tentative at first, a brush over my biceps, a shaky palm skimming my abs, but hunger quickly took over.
I guided him onto my lap, locking my hands behind my head. "Your turn."
Nathan didn’t need encouragement. His mouth was everywhere, sucking at my collarbone, licking a stripe up my neck, teeth scraping my pec. When my hands found his back, kneading the tension from his muscles, he melted against me with a groan that vibrated through my skin.
"That’s it," I growled.
The couch groaned as I pushed him into it. "Watch," I ordered, hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts. Slow. Teasing. Letting the fabric drag over my hips until everything swung free.
Nathan’s breath stuttered half gasp, half whimper. His eyes locked onto me, wide and dark, like he’d never seen a man before.
I climbed over him, my knees caging his thighs. This close, he could see every vein, every twitch. His hands shot out on instinct, skimming my balls, gripping my shaft, palming my ass like he was trying to memorize the shape.
When I crushed our mouths together, he shuddered. No technique, just hunger clumsy and eager, all teeth and spit. I let him fumble. Let him learn.
Then I pulled back.
Nathan whined, hips jerking up, chasing the contact. But I was already walking away, leaving him panting on the couch. The rustle of frantic fabric told me he was stripping.
"You coming?" I tossed over my shoulder, stepping into the shadows of the bedroom.
He nearly tripped in his haste to follow.
The music pulsed through the bedroom as I claimed the center of the mattress. Elbows planted, legs splayed, every inch on display. Nathan’s gaze locked onto the thick curve of my soft cock, the weight of my balls against the sheets.
"Come get it."
No hesitation. The kid dove in like a starving man, tongue lapping at my shaft, fingers kneading my sack with shaky reverence. His enthusiasm almost made up for his lack of technique. Almost.
"Slow down," I ordered, fisting his hair. "You don’t rush."
His whimper vibrated against my thigh as I forced his pace to match the bassline. Let him learn what real patience tasted like. Nathan's lips stretched around me, inch by inch, his wide eyes flicking between my face and my cock like he couldn't believe it was happening.
"Relax," I ordered, palming the back of his head. "It all fits if you want it to."
His throat convulsed, a wet, desperate sound, but I didn't let up. Slow rolls of my hips at first, letting him adjust. Then deeper, harder, until his nose pressed into my pelvis. Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, spit slicking my shaft.
"Look at you," I growled, forcing his chin up so he'd see himself, lips swollen, eyes wrecked, taking me like he was born for it. "Now do it yourself."
I released him.
The kid fucking went for it. Within minutes, he'd found a rhythm, head bobbing, throat working, hands roaming my body like he needed to memorize every ridge of muscle. His fingertips dug into my abs when I bucked up unexpectedly, his moan vibrating through me.
"Good boy," I rasped, spreading my thighs wider.
I knew he was ready. My fingers closed around the familiar weight of the anal wand, my favorite tool I loved using on my lovers, cold steel in contrast to Nathan's feverish skin.
"Easy now," I murmured as I pressed the tip against him. His whole body tensed, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. Then, slow, inexorable pressure, until the resistance gave way.
"Ffuck, " His nails dug into my shoulders, but he didn't pull away. Brave kid.
I worked him open with ruthless precision, each thrust of the wand dragging a broken sound from his lips. His hips jerked, caught between retreat and pursuit, while his mouth stayed fused to mine, all teeth and desperate, sucking kisses.
When I stood, he clung to me like a lifeline, legs locking around my waist. The new angle had him seeing stars; I could feel it in the way his thighs trembled, in the punched-out moans vibrating against my tongue.
"That's it," I growled, pistoning the wand deeper. His back arched like a bowstring, every muscle pulled taut. Virgin territory no more.
“Nathan, it's time,” I said. His mind crashed back to the present, some excitement and some fear. I placed him down on the bed, his back against the mattress. His 6.5-inch cock was hard and flat against his well-muscled body, slim but muscular with a nice round ass, perfect, I thought.
I settled between his thighs, slicking my cock with slow, deliberate strokes. His gaze locked onto every inch, the thickness, the sheen of oil catching the low light. When his own length jumped against his stomach, I smirked. "See something you like?"
Our cocks slid together in my fist, his noticeably slimmer, younger. His breath stuttered as I worked us both, his hips jerking helplessly.
"Easy," I murmured, spreading his legs wider. The kid was flexible, but I took my time, pressing his thighs down until they trembled, kissing the inside of his knee when he winced.
"Look at you," I growled. "Made for this."
His "Y-yes" was barely a whisper. I leaned over him, dwarfing his frame. "tell me what you want"
"Fuck me, Dean." Clearer now. Hungrier.
I rewarded him with a slow stroke, watching his eyes flutter.
His back arched when I thumbed his tip. "Like a slut," he gasped.
The first press burned, for both of us. His heat was unreal. I paused at the hilt, letting him adjust, brushing the sweat-damp hair from his forehead. "Breathe, kid."
Then he moved beneath me, rolling his hips slightly in a way that had us both seeing stars.
"Christ, you're perfect," I groaned.
And then finally, I went to work on his ass. “Yes,” “Oooo,” “YESSSS” Nathan grunted. I was giving him a proper fucking he would never forget. His first time would be the best time. As he grunted, I would take his mouth into mine, covering the grunted sexual sounds that escaped him. “Is it good, Nathan?” I asked as I dove into the boy with long, strong strokes. “YyyyeessssZZZZ,” he hissed. I enjoyed hearing him moan as I licked and sucked his neck. The kid was loving it; he reached around and grabbed onto my ass, spreading my cheeks apart as he held on for dear life.
"On Hands and knees. Now."
Nathan moved like his body was no longer his own, fluid, eager, presenting himself to the mirrors. I admired the view for half a heartbeat before sheathing myself in one brutal thrust.
His scream cracked against the glass, fingers scrambling for purchase on the hardwood. No hesitation now, no gentle warmup. Just the relentless rhythm of my hips slamming home, each impact shaking a fresh moan from his throat.
The mirrors showed everything, his blown pupils, the sweat slicking his back, the way his mouth fell open on every gasp. No more thinking. No more control. Just flesh and heat and the sweet, savage freedom of using him exactly how I needed.
“YES, fuck me, Dean. Fuck me,” I could not help but smile at the boy taking big dick and loving all of it. I reached forward and hooked him and started pounding away. His cock was like a fucking wand, bouncing up and down and then side to side, his mouth open, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to contain all of what was happening.
“Soooo Goooooodddddd,” he grunted through his teeth, but I kept at it. I fisted my hand in his hair and yanked him upright, his spine arched, throat exposed, a sharp cry tearing from his lips. For a heartbeat, he fought it, muscles tensing against the pull.
Then he melted.
His moan dripped with surrender as I set a punishing rhythm, our skin slapping together in a filthy cadence. Sweat bloomed across his back, tiny pearls catching the light before rolling down the valleys of his muscles.
"That’s it," I growled, tightening my grip. "Take it."
His body answered before his mouth could, hips stuttering, breath coming in ragged bursts. The kid was close. So fucking close. I rose up high and I started to jam my cock straight down and into his exposed hole.
Nathan immediately yelled, “I'm GONNA CUMMMMMM” as this new position was hitting his spot. I began to jump slam into that poor boy's hole as he quivered and shook under me, begging for more, encouraging me to make him my bitch, and I smiled. I already had.
Nathan's entire body locked up, a statue carved from trembling muscle and gasping breath. His back arched impossibly, toes curling against the sheets as his voice shattered the air:
"Fuuuuuck!"
The sound raw. Unfiltered. The kind of cry that comes from somewhere deeper than lungs. I watched, mesmerized, as pleasure rewrote his every nerve ending. His eyes rolled back, lips parted in silent ecstasy while his cock pulsed violently, striping his stomach with thick ropes of release.
"That's my boy," I murmured, stroking his hair as his hips jerked through each aftershock. His body wasn't his own anymore. It was mine. And the realization painted across his flushed face was more intoxicating than any touch.
I didn't stop moving inside him. Let the waves keep crashing. Let him drown in it.
His fingers scrabbled at my arms, not to push away, but to hold on.
Perfect.
I flipped him like a steak on a grill, no ceremony, just purpose. My palms molded to his ribs, hauling him up to his knees. His mouth fell open in instinct, not protest.
I fed him my cock in one brutal push, his throat fluttering around me. No gentle warning. No asking. Just the slick heat of his surrender as I pumped down his gullet.
He gagged once, a weak reflex then took it. Took everything. My release hit in waves, each thicker than the last, and the kid swallowed like his life depended on it.
When I finally pulled out, I painted his face with what was left, his tongue darting out to catch stray drops. The bastard, purrrrred.
By the time I reached for the towel near the bed, he was already boneless on the sheets, wrecked and spent.
Steam curled against the bathroom tiles as I cranked the shower. My reflection stared back from the fogging mirror, shoulders broad from years of discipline, abs still defined even in relaxation. A top's physique, carved by iron and protein.
The door creaked as I pushed it open. Nathan sat on the bed, phone pressed to his ear, spinning lies with the ease of a man who'd just been reborn.
", long shift... tomorrow, baby... love you, ”
The phone hit the mattress. His grin was all teeth, eyes dark with hunger as they raked over me. No shame. No regret. Just the electric thrill of a first-time cheat.
I nodded toward the steam. "Shower's ready."
He moved past me, fingers brushing my cock, a promise. Sunday night stretched before us, ripe with possibility. He was not going home tonight.
I hauled him upright, grinning as his legs nearly buckled. That wobbly, wide-stance shuffle, every man walks it after getting properly fucked.
"Thanks, man," he mumbled, then surprised me by spinning back and planting a sloppy kiss on my mouth. His hands roamed down to grope my ass with newfound confidence.
I swatted him away, chuckling. "Answer the question, kid. Are you good?"
Nathan flashed a dazed grin over his shoulder as he limped toward the shower. "Fuck yeah."
The steam hadn't even fogged the mirror before I heard him humming. Kid wasn't just good, he'd discovered a whole new side of himself.
I crashed belly-down on the mattress, the sheets still smelling like sweat and Nathan. Back to normal. Almost believed it too, till sleep dragged me under.
Woke to wet heat spreading across my ass, thick, insistent tongue working my hole like it owned me. A groan tore loose before my brain caught up. "Fuck... yes" Hips bucking back on instinct, helping that mouth sink deeper.
Then hands calloused?, Nathan slammed my face into the pillow. Wool filled my mouth as a blunt cockhead pressed where his tongue had been.
"Do it," I rasped, half-drowned in bed sheets.
Fire split me. Too thick. Too fast. A ragged gasp as he buried himself to the hilt. My knuckles whitened on the sheets. Not pain... but fullness. The kind that hollows you out.
Kid's got a fucking anvil in his pants. mental note to not underestimate Nathan again.
My back arched, shoving back onto him. Drowsiness burned away by pure, brutal need. Since when did bottoming feel this good, Since when did Nathan have this manly aggression and power in him?, I thought, but better than most I knew what a sex crazy man will do and be willing to give away for the thrill of it.
I arched my back into the mattress as Nathan drove into me, hard. His balls slapped against mine with every thrust, grinding my cock against the sheets until the friction burned.
"Fuck!"
The bedframe shrieked in protest as he pistoned deeper. No finesse, just pure, hungry force. Exactly what I’d have done.
"Deeper" I choked out, my pace still pinned to the mattress.
He obeyed, slamming home until my vision blurred. Grunts tore from my throat– his from effort, mine from surrender. When his teeth sank into my neck, I didn’t stop him. Let him claim it. Let him own this. His breath now thick and his smell more developed but I did not care I was gonna give this kid the time of his life.
I lifted my head off the mattress long enough to moan and beg for him to cum in my ass. But then it was too late, out of nowhere, the feeling shot from my balls to my cock. I felt the wave of warmth sweep over me, and I had no choice but to let it sweep me away.
“I’m cumming!” I yelled, and as my body convulsed, I heard, “Fuck yeah, Dean. Who’s a fuckin’ slut?”
I replied, “I’m a slut. Fuck me!” I yelled as my brain connected the dots. I heard the unmistakable sounds of Dave cumming deep in my ass.
“Take it, you fuckin’ slut,” he grunted as I felt his cock pulse in my ass. “Fuck yeah!” Dave grunted with gusto as he continued to fill me. I was in his tight grip and worst of All Daves big dick was slamming mercilessly into my sensitive prostate.
My head snapped up just as Nathan’s gasp cut through the grunts.
There he was glued to that chair like a spectator at a goddamn peep show. His fist flew over his cock, eyes wide and locked on where Dave pounded into me. Sweat plastered his naked body.
Kid’s getting a front-row seat to my downfall. I thought.
His hips jerked in time with Dave’s thrusts. Every smack of skin on skin made Nathan’s breath hitch. He wasn’t just watching, he was consuming it. That mix of hunger and shock on his face… like he’d stumbled into a real life Porn video being recorded,he never wanted to end.
I met his stare. Held it. Let him see the sweat, the strain, the unfiltered fucking truth of what was happening to me. His hand moved faster.
“Yeah. Look close, kid. This is what surrender looks like.” Dave yelled out in a grunt.
Dave withdrew with a slick pop, only to shove his cock between my lips. "Clean it," he growled. I obeyed, tongue swirling, throat working as spit slicked his shaft.
"Boy!" Dave barked over my gagging. "Get your ass over here and Drill this Slut."
Nathan didn’t hesitate. I watched through blurry eyes as he literally jumped and slammed into me, no finesse, just pure claiming. A guttural moan vibrated against Dave’s cock.
"See that?" Dave chuckled, yanking my hair to force eye contact with Nathan as he said. "One guy's top is someone else's bottom,"
Nathan pounded me like he’d waited years for this. "Fuck, he’s tight!" he hissed, hips pistoning.
Dave grinned down at me. "Ride that grade-A ass kid. Not everyone gets Meat like this"
"YES!" Nathan roared, drunk on power.
Dave seized the moment, fucking my mouth raw while Nathan hammered my ass, a brutal, perfect rhythm.
"Fill him," Dave ordered, voice cracking like a whip. "Every. Last. Drop."
Nathan’s scream wasn’t human, a primal, shattering release as his hips locked deep. I felt him pulse inside me.
Nathan slid out with a wet gasp, staring at my ravaged hole. "Fuck yeah, Dean," he panted, sweat dripping down his temples. "Fuck you look good"
"Get over here, kid," Dave ordered, never breaking rhythm as he pistoned into my throat.
Nathan scrambled to kneel beside us, eyes wide and hungry. Dave yanked my head back by the hair, forcing Nathan to watch spit-strung lips stretch around his girth. "See that? This is how you claim a slut's mouth." thru blurry eyes I moaned as Nanthan looked on with renewed hunger.
"Cock-check him," Dave grunted.
Nathan's hand was already wrapped around my shaft, stroking me with rough reverence. "He's fucking dripping," he breathed, thumb smearing pre-cum across my head. As the boy's cock came back to life.
"Ride him," Dave commanded. "But keep that fist tight on his dick."
Nathan sheathed himself in one thrust, my choked gasp muffled by Dave's balls. He rode me like something feral, my cock trapped in his grip like a joystick.
"Now, watch," Dave growled.
Nathan's eyes locked on mine as Dave's hips stuttered. I tasted salt and iron as he flooded my throat, Nathan's own release triggering as he felt Dave's climax through my convulsing body. They emptied themselves in tandem, Dave down my throat, Nathan deep in my ass, while my trapped cock wept helplessly against Nathan's clenched fist.
They dumped me like trash, my body trembling on the edge. I fought the tidal wave building in my balls -not like this, not while they watched- but Dave already had me pinned on my back. His thigh shoved under my spine, bending me double until my knees kissed my ears. My cock jutted upward, dripping and desperate, as Nathan’s hungry stare crawled over me.
"Jerk it." Dave’s order left no room for debate.
My free hand moved on its own, rough, frantic strokes while Nathan watched my precum slick the shaft. My legs thrashed against Dave’s iron grip. Useless.
"Fuck, he’s close!" Nathan breathed, already hard again.
"Then plug his ass. NOW." Dave ordered.
Nathan slammed back into me just as my first spasm hit. White heat tore through my veins.
"You a slut, Dean?" Dave’s voice cut through the haze.
"YESSS!" The word ripped from me as cum shot over my shoulder.
"A bitch?"
I nodded wildly, back arching. Second rope hit Nathan’s chest.
"Spit. In his mouth"
Nathan’s warm saliva hit my tongue. I swallowed on reflex, submission tasted like salt and shame.
"Now feed him your load," Dave growled.
Nathan’s cock stuffed my mouth as he came. I gulped greedily, Nathan's eyes rolling back. His hips stuttered against my face, but his hands gripping my hair life a vice a kid learning to top a slut bottom.
Nathan collapsed on the bed, moaning incoherently. Dave released my legs, and I was wasted. I had no strength. What just happened? How the fuck did this happen?
Dave rose like a thundercloud.
“Clothes on. Get the fuck out.”
Nathan scrambled backward, eyes wide, still glazed, still trying to piece together where his body ended and the night began. He fumbled with his jeans, socks inside-out, shirt clinging to sweat-slick skin.
Dave’s hand clamped around my balls Squeezed. Not pain -”ownership-
“Shower. Now.” he barked
I followed Dave and his iron grip to the shower. Every step screamed of submission.
The shower door creaked open.
Nathan stood there, dressed but dazed, as Dave slammed into me from behind. His calloused hands locked like iron around my throat, hips hammering my ass, my knees rubbed against the tiles.
"Uhm... thanks Dean. Thanks Dave, sir." Nathan's voice cracked.
Dave yanked my head back by the hair. "Slut forgot his manners." Water streamed into my mouth as I choked out: "Th-thank you, Nathan."
Dave never slowed his rhythm. "Listen close, boy," he growled over the spray. "This bitch? Mine. Find your own stud to fuck."
Nathan’s jeans tented visibly. "Yessir." He backed out slowly, eyes glued to where Dave owned me, watching me on my hands and knees, shaking with every slam. Nathan’s hard-on straining against denim.
The door clicked shut. Dave’s thrusts turned brutal. "Bet he jacks off for months thinking about this," he snarled in my ear. As my moans kept up with his thrusts.
Dave's grip locked like iron on my neck. "Listen up, Dean, I'm done with your bullshit." His breath scalded my ear as he slammed me. "You're our fucktoy.Now."
I choked, spots dancing behind my eyelids. No booze. No poppers. Just Dave's wrestler-build now pinning me to the shower tiles beneath me, ginger body hair scraping my back, thighs like tree trunks caging mine.
"Gonna spend all night reminding you what you really are."
Betrayal burned my throat. Sam's scheming. Dave's fucking hypocrisy. But my body, my body arched back into him, craving the stretch and split only he could give.
"Beg for it, slut."
I did, more than once and I could care less. The tiles wet slap cracked behind me as the pressure increased and lights went out.
