CHAPTER 4
“Now,” Max said, his gaze shifting from Chris to me. “Time for the main event.”
Max’s voice sliced through the air, low and commanding. “Jason,” he growled, his dark eyes locking onto me with unyielding intensity. “Strip him. I want you to take his clothes off for me.”
I froze, the order hitting me like a punch. I looked at Chris, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. There was no hesitation in his eyes—only a quiet, almost eager submission.
“Now,” Max barked, the word sharp and final.
My hands trembled as I stepped forward, brushing the hem of Chris’s sweatpants. The fabric was soft, familiar, but the act felt foreign, loaded with meaning. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and tugged, slow at first, then with more certainty. The sweatpants slid down, taking his briefs with them, pooling around his ankles.
Chris’s cock sprang free, hard and pointing nearly straight in the air, glistening with pre-cum. My breath hitched, my body responding instantly. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his length, so familiar yet new in this context—all of it laid bare for Max’s pleasure.
Max’s voice broke the silence, thick with approval. “Good. Now get him on the bed. On his back.”
I obeyed, guiding Chris with trembling hands, helping him scramble onto the mattress. His skin was warm under my touch, radiating vulnerability that deepened the surreal intensity. As Chris lay back, his legs parting slightly, I felt like I was offering him up to Max—a gift, a prize.
The air was electric, heavy with what was about to happen. I stepped back, my hands falling, my world narrowing to Chris—my Chris—spread out and exposed, ready for Max.
My own cock was straining so hard against my jeans. I began to unbutton them, and unleash my cock.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Max barked, his expression fierce. “You’ll take your cock out when I allow you to. But first you have other work to do.”
A wide grin spread across his face.
“Spread him for me,” Max ordered, his voice dripping with dominance. “I want to taste him before I take him.”
The command should have enraged me. Instead, it ignited me. I fumbled in the nightstand, my hands shaking, and retrieved the bottle. I stood by the bed, looking down at Chris, spread out, vulnerable and wanton.
I hesitated for a split second, my stomach twisting with shame and arousal. But the command was impossible to resist. I moved forward on shaky legs, kneeling next to Chris. With trembling hands, I gripped his ass cheeks, spreading them to expose the tight, pink hole already prepared for Max.
“Watch closely,” Max growled, his breath hot against Chris’s skin. “See how I take what’s yours.”
My heart pounded as Max leaned in, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate circle around Chris’s entrance. Chris gasped, arching his back, his toes curling, his fingers clutching the sheets. The sight was obscene, intimate, and utterly humiliating—Max dominating Chris in the most personal way, with me forced to facilitate it.
“Yes, like that,” Chris moaned, his voice breaking as Max’s tongue pushed inside, probing and relentless. The wet, filthy sounds echoed, punctuated by Chris’s ragged breaths and whimpers.
I couldn’t look away, my body reacting despite the jealousy in my chest. Max’s tongue worked deeper, devouring Chris with primal hunger that left me ashamed and unbearably aroused. I held Chris open, my hands trembling, my face inches from the scene, trapped in the heat and intimacy.
“God, you taste so good,” Max murmured against Chris’s skin, his voice thick with lust. He glanced up at me, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph. “Bet you’ve never had this effect on him, have you?”
I shook my head mutely, my throat too tight to speak. Max laughed low and dark before diving back in, his tongue fucking Chris with relentless precision. Chris was a writhing mess, his moans growing louder, more desperate, until he was crying out Max’s name like a prayer.
“Now open him up for me,” Max demanded.
“Do it,” Max growled at me. “I want to see your fingers in him. I want to see him ready for me.”
I squeezed lube onto my fingers, the cool gel slick against my skin. I knelt between Chris’s legs, my heart pounding. He looked up at me, his expression a mix of lust and something softer, just for me.
“Please,” Chris breathed, and it was all I needed.
I pressed one slick finger against his entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle. I pushed slowly, watching his face contort in a gasp of pleasure-pain as my finger slid inside. The heat was incredible, clinging and tight. His hips bucked, driving my finger deeper, and a ragged moan tore from his throat.
“Another one,” Max commanded, his voice close. He was standing beside the bed, stroking himself, watching with avid intensity.
I added a second finger, scissoring gently, stretching my boyfriend open for another man. The intimacy, paired with the blatant cuckolding, was devastating. Chris writhed beneath my touch, his breaths sharp, desperate gasps. His moans indicated he was ready.
Max nudged me out of the way with his hip, so deliberate and dismissive it felt like a physical assertion of dominance. I stumbled back, my breath hitching, my body torn between humiliation and arousal. I climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight, and settled against the headboard. A spectator. A prop.
This was it. The fantasy, fully realized, and it was so much more devastating than anything I’d concocted in my head. I fumbled with the button of my jeans, my fingers refusing to cooperate. I was hard, painfully so, a traitorous throb that pulsed in time with my hammering heart. The denim finally gave way, and I shoved my jeans and briefs down my thighs in one awkward motion, my own erection springing free. I felt exposed, smaller next to Max’s monumental presence.
Max didn’t glance at me as he positioned himself at Chris’s entrance, his massive frame looming like a predator. The room shrank, the air thick with anticipation.
Max looked down at Chris, his dark eyes burning with possessive fire. “Mine,” he growled, the word a challenge. “Watch me make him mine.”
Much more to come . . . in the next chapter, Max fucks Chris while Jason watches
CHAPTER 5
Max looked down at Chris, his dark eyes burning with possessive fire. “Mine,” he growled, the word a challenge. “Watch me make him mine.”
Chris’s breath hitched, his blue eyes wide and unblinking as they locked onto Max’s. There was no resistance—only eager surrender.
“Look at him, Jason,” Max growled without turning around. “Look at how ready he is for me. He’s been waiting for this.”
I was looking. I couldn’t look away. Chris’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk, a silent plea. Max spat into his own palm, a crude, efficient gesture, and slicked his enormous length. The sight of his big, rough hand stroking that thick cock was almost as obscene as what was about to happen. He positioned himself, the broad, plum-shaped head of his cock pressing against Chris’s entrance.
Chris’s eyes squeezed shut, his lips parting in a silent ‘o’ of anticipation.
“Look at me, Chris,” Max commanded, his voice softening into a terrifying intimacy. Chris’s blue eyes fluttered open, locking onto Max’s. “You want this?”
“Yes,” Chris breathed, the word barely audible. “Please.”
“Tell him what you want,” Max said, nodding his head slightly toward me without breaking eye contact with Chris.
A shiver ran through Chris. He turned his head on the pillow, his gaze finding mine. There was a flicker of something—apology? reassurance?—but it was swallowed by a wave of pure, unadulterated need. “I want him to fuck me, Jason,” he whispered, his voice husky and raw. “I want to feel all of him.”
The confession was a knife twist, exquisitely painful. My cock twitched, betraying me.
Max didn’t wait. He pushed forward.
It wasn’t a slow, gentle entry. It was a demand. A thick, relentless pressure that made Chris gasp, his back arching off the bed. His eyes went wide, and for a second, I saw a flash of genuine surprise, of being overwhelmed by the sheer physicality of it. Max paused, buried only an inch or two inside, letting Chris adjust to the incredible girth.
“Breathe, pretty boy,” Max murmured, his voice a low vibration. He leaned down, capturing Chris’s mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. I watched their tongues meet, watched Chris’s hands come up to clutch at Max’s broad, hairy back.
Then Max began to move.
It was a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, a demonstration of pure power. I saw the strain in Chris’s body, the way his abs clenched, the way his toes curled. A low, guttural moan was ripped from his throat, a sound I’d never heard him make before. It was a sound of being utterly filled, utterly possessed.
“Oh god… Max…” Chris choked out, his head thrashing on the pillow.
“That’s it,” Max grunted, his own breath starting to come harder. He pulled back almost all the way, the sight of his slick, glistening cock leaving Chris’s body almost as shocking as its entry, and then he drove back in, deeper this time. “Take it. You can take more.”
My hand found my own cock, stroking it roughly, my touch feeling pathetic and insignificant. I was mimicking the act, but I was lightyears away from the reality of it. I was a ghost in the room.
Max’s eyes found mine over the arch of Chris’s body. He never broke his rhythm, his hips pistoning with a brutal, beautiful efficiency. A vicious, triumphant smirk spread across his face.
Max leaned down, his lips brushing Chris’s ear. “Tell me,” he commanded, his breath hot and demanding. “Tell me how this makes you feel.”
Chris’s body shuddered, his nails digging into the sheets. “It—it feels… so good,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “You’re so deep. So fucking deep.”
“And?” Max pressed, his tone sharp, demanding more. His hand gripped Chris’s hip tighter, forcing him to arch further.
Chris moaned, his head thrashing. “I—I can’t think. It’s all I can feel. Just you. You’re everywhere.” His voice cracked, raw with need. “It’s like… you’re owning me. Every part of me.”
Max smirked, his pace slowing just enough to make Chris whimper in frustration. “And him?” He jerked his head toward me, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “What does he make you feel right now?”
Chris’s gaze flicked to me, a mix of guilt and desperation. “Jason… he—” He hesitated, his body trembling under Max’s rhythm. “He’s watching me… watching you take me. And it’s—god, it’s so hot. Knowing he’s seeing this… seeing me like this.”
Max laughed, low and dark, his hips snapping forward with renewed intensity. “Good. Let him see. Let him know exactly who you belong to right now.”
Chris cried out, his back arching as Max drove into him harder, deeper. “I’m yours,” he gasped, the words spilling out between ragged breaths. “Yours. Completely yours.”
Max’s grin widened, a predator savoring his prey. “Say it again.”
“Yours!” Chris shouted, his voice breaking as his body tensed, teetering on the edge of release.
Max’s smirk widened, cruel and triumphant, as he leaned down over Chris, his pace unrelenting. “Ask him,” he growled at me, his voice dripping with command. “Ask him if I’m a better fuck than you.”
My throat tightened, my stomach churning with humiliation and desire. “Chris…” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is… is he better than me?”
Chris moaned, his head thrashing, his body trembling under Max’s relentless thrusts. “Yes,” he gasped, the word torn from him in a ragged cry. “God, yes. He’s so much better.”
Max’s laugh was low and dark, his hips slamming into Chris with ruthless precision. “Ask him if I fill him up more than you ever could,” Max ordered, his tone sharp and unyielding.
My fists clenched, my pride in tatters, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Does he… does he fill you up more than I do?”
Chris’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath hitching as Max drove deeper. “So much more,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “You’ve never made me feel this full before. Never.”
Max’s grin was feral, his hand gripping Chris’s hip hard enough to leave bruises. “And now ask him if he’s ever felt this good before.”
The words felt like a knife to my chest, but I forced them out. “Have you… have you ever felt this good?”
Chris’s body arched, his cries desperate, almost pleading. “No,” he sobbed, tears of pleasure streaking down his cheeks. “Never. He’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Max laughed, a sound of pure dominance, and leaned down to capture Chris’s lips in a brutal kiss. “Damn right I am,” he muttered against Chris’s mouth before driving into him harder, deeper, until Chris was screaming his name.
I stood frozen, my hand feverishly stroking my own leaking cock, unable to tear my eyes away. This was it—my fantasy twisted into something far more intense than I’d imagined. Chris was being claimed, utterly and completely, by a man who exuded dominance in every movement, every breath. And yet, even as jealousy clawed at me, I couldn’t deny the heat coursing through me, the undeniable truth that this was exactly what I’d wanted all along.
Max never broke his rhythm, his eyes drilling into me as he spoke, his voice rough and dripping with satisfaction. “You like watching this, don’t you?” he demanded, each word a blow to my ego. “You like seeing me fuck him better than you ever could?”
“I… I like…” My voice cracks. I have to force the words out, each one a confession that chips away at me. “I like how he looks with you. How small he looks under you.”
Max’s grin is feral. “Louder.”
“I like how small he looks under you!” I say, my voice stronger now, the admission fueling the fire in my gut. My hand starts to move in a steady, desperate rhythm. “I like the way you’re holding his wrists… like you own him. Like he’s yours.”
“He is mine,” Max growls, punctuating the words with a deep, rolling thrust that makes Chris cry out. “Right now, he’s all mine. Keep talking.”
I’m mesmerized by the sight, by the raw power on display. My own movements become more frantic. “It makes me feel… I don’t know… weak. It makes me feel weak,” I admit, the humiliation a sharp, delicious pain. “But it’s so fucking hot. I’ve never seen him like this. He never… he never lets go like that for me.”
The truth of it hits me as I say it. Chris is completely lost, completely surrendered to a pleasure I’ve never been able to give him. The jealousy is there, a bitter knot in my stomach, but it’s utterly consumed by a blinding, all-encompassing arousal.
“He’s so much louder for you,” I murmur, almost to myself. “The sounds he’s making… I’ve never heard that.”
Max slows his pace, a master conductor controlling every element of the symphony. He looks from Chris’s blissful face back to my desperate one. “And what does that do to you, watching him take me? Knowing I’m giving him something you can’t?”
His question is a direct hit. I feel exposed, flayed open. My hand moves faster, the slick sound of my own arousal joining the chorus of their skin meeting.
“It makes me crazy,” I gasp, my hips bucking into my fist. “It makes me so fucking hard. I want… I want to see more. I want to see you ruin him.”
Max’s dark eyes flash with triumph. He leans down, whispering something into Chris’s ear that makes him moan and nod weakly. Then he looks back at me, his expression one of absolute victory.
“Good boy,” Max purrs, his voice thick with dominance, the praise searing into me like a brand. “Now, stand up. Grab Chris’s hands and pin them above his head. I don’t want him touching himself.”
My legs feel unsteady as I rise, my throbbing cock still in my hand, but I obey without hesitation. I move to the bed, my breath shallow, and take Chris’s wrists in my hands. His skin is hot and slick with sweat, and his fingers twitch as I press his arms against the mattress. He looks up at me, his eyes dazed and pleading, but he doesn’t resist.
“Watch this,” Max growls, his voice dripping with smug confidence.
He slows for just a moment, adjusting his angle, and then he’s driving into Chris with a brutal, unrelenting rhythm. Each thrust lands with precision, hitting Chris’s prostate with surgical accuracy.
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a deliberate, powerful stroke that shook the entire bed. I could hear the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, a lewd soundtrack to my own humiliation. Chris was lost in it, his moans growing louder, more ragged, forming a continuous stream of praise and pleas. “Yes! Right there… fuck, you’re so deep… don’t stop…”
Max was a machine, his muscular ass clenching with each drive forward, his back glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He reached down, hooking his hands under Chris’s knees and pushing his legs back, spreading him wider, opening him up for an even deeper, more devastating penetration. The visual was brutal. Intimate. I could see everything. I could see where Max’s thickness stretched Chris, where their bodies joined, the dark hair at the base of Max’s stomach pressed flush against Chris’s skin.
The effect is intense—Chris’s back arches off the bed, his mouth falling open in a silent scream before a guttural moan tears from his throat.
I’ve never seen him like this. His body is writhing uncontrollably, his cock harder and redder than I’ve ever seen it, dribbling pre-cum in thick, glistening strands down onto his stomach. “Oh God! Oh fuck!” he gasps, his voice breaking. “I can’t—I can’t—”
“You can,” Max snarls, his thrusts becoming even more savage. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Without even touching yourself. Come on, let it go.”
Chris’s entire body tenses, every muscle straining as if he’s about to shatter. And then, with three final powerful thrusts from Max, it happens.
Chris’s cock erupts, ropes of cum shooting out in thick, white bursts, painting his chest and stomach. It’s more than I’ve ever seen him produce, and the sight is utterly intoxicating. He’s screaming now, his voice raw and primal, his hips jerking helplessly as Max keeps pounding into him, milking every last drop of his orgasm.
Max isn’t far behind. With a guttural roar, he buries himself deep inside Chris and lets go. His face contorts with pure, unbridled pleasure, his muscles flexing as he empties himself into my boyfriend. The sight of them both lost in ecstasy is too much for me. My own climax hits like a freight train, my body convulsing as I spill over my hand and onto the floor beneath me.
Slowly, Max pulled out. He did it with a slick, obscene sound that made me flinch. He stood up, his own body magnificent and spent, and looked down at the wrecked, beautiful form of my boyfriend. Chris lay boneless, breathless, covered in his own release, a dazed, satiated smile on his lips.
Then Max turned to me.
“Your turn, Jason,” he said, his voice a low, commanding rasp. “Clean him up.”
More to cum . . .
