It always started the same way. A look. A glance that lingered just a second too long.
Dean was over again—fourth time this month. I pretended not to notice at first, but I always did. I noticed the way his eyes crawled over me when I came down the stairs shirtless. The way Travis, my stepdad, went quiet when I bent over in front of him.
They never touched me when I was growing up. They waited. Waited until I turned twenty, waited until I came back from college—bigger, broader, hungrier.
I thought I was imagining it that first night. But the second time Dean came over, and Travis said "Why don’t you wear some damn clothes around here?" while never once looking away from my bare chest, I knew.
They were watching. Plotting.
That night, I gave them a show.
After my shower, I walked into the kitchen with just a towel hugging my hips, steam still clinging to my skin. Dean looked up from his beer. His eyes flicked down my body and stayed there.
“You always this proud of your body?” he asked, voice low, half amusement, half threat.
“I don’t hear you telling me to cover up,” I shot back.
He smirked. Travis didn’t say a word—just stood behind me, close enough I could feel the heat coming off his body. His hand landed heavy on my shoulder.
“Boy’s got a mouth on him,” Travis muttered. “Maybe he wants it filled.”
Dean laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was dark. Dangerous.
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
That was the moment everything changed.
We were on the couch an hour later. Game was on, but no one was watching. I sat between them, body buzzing. Travis’s palm rested on my thigh. He didn’t move it. Just let it sit there, warm and heavy, fingers brushing higher every few minutes. Dean had his arm draped across the back of the couch behind me, fingertips grazing my neck.
“You ever been with a man before, Levi?” Dean asked, casual, like he was asking about the weather.
I nodded slowly. “Once. Not like this though.”
Travis leaned in. “Like what?”
I turned my head toward him. “Like being used.”
Travis and Dean looked at each other. Something passed between them. Approval, maybe. Agreement.
Then Travis gripped my jaw and kissed me—rough, hard, like he was angry I’d made him wait this long. His stubble scraped my face raw, and his tongue shoved past my lips like it owned me. I moaned into his mouth, already leaking in my shorts.
Dean's hand slid into my waistband. “You’re hard as fuck,” he murmured. “You like this nasty shit, don’t you?”
I couldn’t even answer. My mouth was still full of Travis. But my hips bucked into Dean’s palm.
They had me on my knees seconds later.
Dean stood in front of me, already thick and hard. He slapped his cock against my cheek, groaning as I opened up for him. “Pretty little mouth,” he said, shoving in deep. “Don’t gag. You wanted this.”
I choked, but I didn’t pull back. I let him use my throat while Travis stripped me bare, his rough hands dragging down my boxers and spreading my ass wide.
He spit between my cheeks, fingered me open fast and sloppy, then lined up without warning. I was still on my knees when he shoved in—thick and unrelenting. I cried out around Dean’s cock, eyes watering as Travis bottomed out.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Tight little hole’s been waiting for this, huh?”
Dean tangled his fingers in my hair and started fucking my mouth harder. “He’s crying already. That’s cute.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just a blur of spit, sweat, and the deep, brutal rhythm of two older men using me like their personal toy.
Travis’s thrusts were punishing. “You’re ours now, Levi. No more jerking off alone in your room. You want to come? You come to us.”
Dean laughed, pulling out so I could gasp for air. My face was soaked, lips swollen, jaw aching. “Beg for more,” he said, stroking his cock slowly in front of me.
“Please,” I whispered. “Fuck me. Both of you. I can take it.”
Travis yanked me up and dragged me to his bedroom. Dean followed, stripping as he walked.
They bent me over the edge of the bed. Travis spit again, lubing me up sloppy. Dean stood in front of me, holding my chin.
“You ready for both of us, pretty boy?”
I nodded. “Please. Fill me. Use me.”
Dean kissed me as Travis slid back in. Then I felt Dean line up too. I held my breath.
They pushed in together.
I screamed into Dean’s mouth, body stretched beyond anything I’d ever felt. But I didn’t stop. I wanted it. I needed it.
They fucked me slow at first, grinding against each other inside me, making me feel every inch. Then they picked up the pace—slamming into me, slapping my skin raw, filthy words falling from their lips like prayer.
“Take it, boy.”
“Good fucking hole.”
“You were made for this.”
I came untouched—body shaking, legs giving out, hole still stuffed full of cock. They didn’t stop. Fucked me right through it.
And when they finally finished, filling me full and pulling out slow, I collapsed on the bed, ruined.
Dean slapped my ass. “We’ll clean you up later.”
Travis leaned down and whispered, “Don’t worry. No one has to know. You’re our dirty secret.”
I smiled, eyes half-lidded.
They said we were just running to the store.
Travis tossed me the keys. Dean grabbed a six-pack on the way out, cracked one before we even hit the end of the driveway. I should’ve known something was up the way they looked at me—like I was dessert after a long, dirty meal.
But I played dumb.
Let them steer me out of town, down a dirt road past the old mill, into a stretch of trees where no one ever went. No lights. No cameras. No chance in hell of anyone stumbling across what was about to go down.
Travis killed the engine. The truck went still. Dead quiet except for the low hum of the radio and the thud of my own heartbeat in my ears.
Dean lit a cigarette and leaned back, exhaling smoke through his nose like the devil himself. “Back seat,” he said, voice calm. Like he was asking me to grab a soda, not strip down and offer myself up.
I climbed back without a word. By now, I knew what they liked—obedience first, begging second.
Travis turned, eyes dark. “Take it off.”
I peeled off my shirt, then slid my jeans down slow, revealing the bulge already straining in my briefs. Dean grunted from the front seat. “Boy’s always ready, isn’t he?”
I nodded, throat tight. “For you? Always.”
That was all it took.
Dean climbed in first, pulled me onto his lap, hands already rough and greedy, squeezing my ass, dragging his teeth along my neck. “You think about this when you’re at school?” he growled. “Think about us fucking you in the back of this truck like a couple of dirty old men?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered. “Every night.”
He pulled my briefs down and let them dangle around my knees. “You filthy fuckin’ thing.”
Travis opened the back door and climbed in behind me, sandwiching me between them. His hands grabbed my thighs, yanked me backward until I was bent over Dean’s lap, ass in the air.
“You’re gonna keep your face in Dean’s lap,” Travis ordered, already pulling his cock free. “Don’t look back. Don’t fucking move unless we say.”
Dean chuckled. “He knows his place.”
Then Travis spit—wet and hot—and shoved two fingers into my hole, working them deep while Dean stroked his cock right in front of my face.
“You wanna impress us tonight, baby boy?” Dean asked.
I nodded.
“Open that mouth then.”
I wrapped my lips around his head, sucking slow while Travis worked me open with brutal precision. His fingers scissored, stretched, pressed deep, and I whimpered around Dean’s cock.
“Fuckin’ music to my ears,” Travis muttered, lining up behind me.
The first thrust knocked the air out of me.
I moaned into Dean’s cock, throat tightening as Travis filled me, inch by inch. Thick. Relentless. My hands gripped Dean’s thighs for balance while my body shook from the stretch.
Dean grabbed a fistful of my hair. “You love this, don’t you? Being passed around. Used like a backseat cumrag.”
I tried to answer, but Travis started moving—fast, hard, snapping his hips against my ass until the truck rocked with every thrust. The windows fogged. The radio was still playing some slow country song, soft and weirdly romantic against the slap of skin and my muffled moans.
Dean shoved deeper down my throat, barely giving me time to breathe. “Take it,” he snarled. “Take all of it.”
I was pinned—one cock pounding my ass, another choking my throat. My body was nothing but an outlet for their need. I gagged, drooled, leaked all over the seat. I loved it.
“You hear that?” Travis grunted. “That wet slap every time I bottom out? That’s your tight little hole getting ruined.”
I moaned louder, gripping Dean harder.
Dean groaned, “Gonna fuckin’ fill that throat.”
He held my head down, cock twitching, and came deep. Hot. Heavy. I swallowed fast, not because he told me to, but because I wanted to.
Travis didn’t stop.
He pulled me up by the hips and fucked me faster, meaner, until I was crying out, biting Dean’s leg just to muffle myself. My body was limp by the time he came—deep, brutal, filling me full until it leaked down my thighs.
When he finally pulled out, I collapsed against Dean’s chest, shaking, used up.
No one said anything for a minute. Just the sound of heavy breathing, the soft fizz of the radio, and the smell of sweat, cum, and cigarettes hanging thick in the cab.
Travis zipped up, wiped his hand on my back. “You’re a good boy,” he said. “A little fucktoy we keep just for us.”
Dean lit another cigarette and handed it to me.
I took it with a shaky hand and smiled around the filter.
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