He had pushed the car out to make space and set up a barbell on the floor. The morning sun was already strong, and the garage was hot. He was shirtless. Only wearing a pair of black athletic shorts that sat low on his hips and a pair of old sneakers.
I sat up, still half-hard from the night before, and watched him lean against the doorframe. He looked unfairly good for someone who had face-fucked his little brother less than twelve hours ago and then ordered pizza like nothing happened. There was no weird tension in his face. Just that same easy, slightly teasing energy he always had when he decided something was going to happen.
That was the problem. After the night with the fishnets and the three anonymous loads still inside of me while my father fucked me, something in my head stopped working the way it used to. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he sounded when he was angry with me. The way his hand felt when he spanked me. The way he talked while he was inside me, like he was disgusted and hard at the same time.
After that night with the handcuffs I couldn’t stop. My dad had fucked me rough and angry while I was helpless, then warned me never to bring strange men into the house again. So I decided to do it anyway — but only in the afternoon, right before he got home.
The garage door was halfway open. Heat rolled out in thick, heavy waves. Dad was bent over the open hood of his old pickup, shirtless, a wrench in one greasy hand.
The next morning Jacob didn’t bother knocking. He shoved my door open while I was still half-asleep, the hinges creaking hard. He stood there in the same dirty jeans and black cowboy hat from the night before, shirt already half-unbuttoned, looking down at me like I was late for something.
Part 5 – The Warehouse. Sean barely spoke on the drive.
The truck smelled like dust, dried sweat, and the leftover scent of sex from the park. I sat in the passenger seat with my shorts sticking to my thighs, his cum still slowly leaking out of me every time we hit a bump. My hole felt open and used. My throat was raw. The sky outside was already turning that deep orange-purple of late evening.
He pulled into an industrial lot on the edge ...
Chapter 2 - The hot water beat against my skin, but I could still smell him on me — the sharp, heavy scent of his piss mixed with sweat, cigars, and cheap whiskey. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking while I scrubbed. Every time I closed my eyes I saw him standing over me in the stable, jeans open, thick cock out, looking down like I was nothing more than something to use and discard.
My hole was still sore and open from the day before, still hurting when I walked, and the thought of Sean finding out who I was made my stomach twist. But I still locked the stall door, dropped my shorts, and got on my knees on the cold tiles like a dog waiting for its owner.
The next day I couldn’t stay away. I skipped class again and showed up at the same filthy park bathroom around four in the afternoon. My knees were already sore from yesterday, but my mouth was watering just thinking about it. I got into the same stall, dropped to the dirty tiles, and waited with my heart pounding.
David caught his dad calling a prostitute on the phone. His daddy is looking for some anal relief after a rough divorce… David decides to offer him some help.