‘What’s it like?’ asked his squash partner greedily.
‘Oh, yeah, so good. So fucking good. She’s so wet and she really wants it … really milks it. You want this, don’t you, babe?’
‘Yes,’ I answered, my eyes on the floor, on brute’s bare feet, his hairy toes. My breasts swung forward with each thrust; I held on to them before it became painful, but the brute took my hands off and substituted his own. I was being held up by my tits while another man banged away at me, with slow, deliberate strokes.
‘Get your legs wider,’ he said jerkily and I moved my feet further apart. I could see his between them, see his shins and knees edge forwards and back, see his calf muscles straining. He was doing all the work while I just took it. And what a lot there was to take.
‘Touch your pussy,’ said the brute. ‘Go on. Give that clit a strum. You know you want to.’
I reached down and put my fingers where those others had so recently been. My clitoris felt a little swollen and overused but I caressed it anyway, lazily, in rhythm with the energetic fucking I was taking.
He came hard, crashing into my backside with a grunt, then drew out, to be instantly replaced with his squash partner, whom I suspected had been masturbating along to the performance.
‘I’ll try and hold out,’ he said, slightly apologetic in tone, ‘but this might not be the longest ride of my life.’
I didn’t care. There were two more lined up when this one was done, and my pussy felt as if it could stretch and accommodate endless cock. I was hot and sticky and deep in my fantasy, a dirty girl who couldn’t get enough and would always want more.
I pressed harder on my clit, my fingertips grazing the cock that flashed in and out of me. The second cock, or third if you counted the brute’s. I wanted somebody to call me a slut. If somebody called me a slut, I would come again.
‘What am I?’ I prompted, licking my lips, putting my hands on the brute’s as he squeezed my tits like a man possessed.
‘A whore,’ said the brute.
‘A hole,’ said the man who was fucking me.
‘A slut,’ said his friend.
I came, clamping my mouth on to brute’s forearm and moaning into the corded muscular flesh.
My rider ejaculated into his mount at that, his hands on my thighs, his skin slippery against mine.
‘She needs a sports drink,’ directed the brute. ‘Half time. Get her a bottle from the machine, Brett.’
The brute sat me down on the benches. I put back my head against the wall and shut my eyes. The two men who had fucked me hopped back into the shower, but I was not going to do that. I wanted their sweat, their spunk, their marks all over me. I wanted to smell of fucking, of multiple partners, of filth. That was what I’d always wanted. I wanted it in my hair, in my eyes, on my tits. I wanted the evidence of fucking everywhere on my body.
Somebody put a plastic bottle in my hand and I raised it to my lips, sucking down the horribly sweet, sticky fizz. It washed away the taste of the brute’s semen, which I was not altogether happy about, but it was a nice gesture, so I didn’t regret it too much.
‘Spread your legs,’ ordered the brute. ‘Let’s get a look at your pussy. See if it’s still in good nick.’
I complied, still with my eyes shut and my lips fastened to the sports cap.
The brute’s fingers prodded around in my well-used hole.
‘She can take plenty more,’ he judged. ‘If she wants to. Is that what you want, slut girl?’
I nodded, my clit blooming even after its vigorous employment.
‘I want her arse,’ said one of the onlookers.
My pussy clenched and so did my sphincter.
‘I bet she’d love that,’ said the brute. ‘Wouldn’t you, pussycat?’ He sat beside me, took the bottle from my mouth and dried my lower lip with the sweep of a big fat finger.
‘Yeah,’ I whispered. As my lips parted, he put his finger in my mouth and wriggled it around.
‘You’ve had cocks up there before?’ he asked softly.
I nodded.
‘How many?’
It was hard to talk with his finger in my mouth but I tried.
‘Lots.’
‘I’ll bet. Any man who wants to can pull down your pants and bury his cock between your arse cheeks. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yeth.’
‘I know. You’ll bend over for anyone. What about two cocks? Have you done that?’
I nodded again.
‘One in the front, one in the back?’
More nodding.
‘How do you fancy that, boys?’ He spoke to the onlookers. ‘Give her a real good time?’
‘I’m game,’ said one.
‘Yeah. But I’m having her arse, since that was my idea.’
‘Fine.’
‘OK.’ The brute took his finger out of my mouth and pinched my nipples sharply. ‘Seconds out … round two. Go and sit on that man’s cock, slut.’
The squash players had just emerged from their shower, towels around their waists. Grinning, they drew closer to watch the show.
A good-looking dark-haired guy sat on the bench, long legs stretched out in front of him, rubbered cock pointing to his navel. I wasted no time in kneeling on the bench, legs spread either side of him, and lowering my pussy over his cock tip. It was still in good shape, no stinging yet, though I hoped there would be some by the time I left. He reached under my infamous T-shirt for my breasts and held them while I took him all the way inside. I did it slowly, rocking down a little then back up, teasing him.
He squeezed my tits and growled.
‘Get on there, slut. All the way.’
I eased my way down until I sat right on his shaft, feeling its girth stretch my walls.
‘Oh, you’re a big boy,’ I purred. He was the biggest yet, a real meaty fill-her-up number.
‘You noticed,’ he said, smiling. He kissed me, but that wasn’t what I was here for.
I twisted my face away from him and sank my teeth into his neck.
‘Oh, God,’ he groaned.
I took advantage of his ecstatic confusion to start my bump and grind, nice and slow, getting him juicy. He held on to my bum cheeks and spread them apart. I sensed his friend standing behind me and guessed I should get ready for the second half of this extravaganza.
‘Got lube?’ Again, the machine by the toilets did its work and my little lap dance was interrupted by the cold, slippery tip of a finger between my helpfully spread cheeks. Up and down my furrow the sensation skated, then it pressed against my tight opening, cajoling it. I was so busy with the cock inside that I just let things take their course.
I opened up to the finger, then the second, enjoying the double-skewering and the slicking of the lube.
‘How’s that ass?’ someone asked.
‘Tight,’ said the owner of the fingers. ‘Mm, this is going to feel so good. Ready to be ass-fucked?’
I guessed that question was directed at me.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ I said.
He put his hands on my waist and began to push against that tiny pucker with his broad cockhead. It slipped inside with a sudden jolt, and then he glided onwards. I held my breath, waiting for the pain then exhaling through it when it came. He advanced regardless, seating himself inside my bum right up to the hilt.
‘God, that’s a sight,’ commented one of the squash players.
‘Better than porn,’ agreed the other.
‘How’s that, slut?’ asked the brute. ‘What’s it like to be full of two fat cocks?’
‘Fucking marvellous.’
He chuckled. ‘You’d take more if you could, wouldn’t you?’
I nodded. ‘All the cocks … all at once.’
‘Well, lads,’ he said. ‘Nothing more to do but fuck those holes. Give it everything you’ve got. She needs it.’
At first it was like sailing a choppy sea, the rhythm confusing and out of kilter, but eventually the pair of them found their stri
de. The man who fucked my sex held me open for the man who fucked my arse. He in his turn held my shoulders so that I didn’t have too much freedom or control over how I was used. One thrust, the other held still, then they swapped. I came within seconds of this, but they weren’t going to let up on me yet.
‘Did you hear her come?’ one of them gasped.
‘She ain’t seen nothing yet. She’s going to come until she can’t see.’
‘This slut is getting it.’
‘It’s what she wants.’
I felt my body, wet and steaming, crushed between them, impaled on them, a thing being used. I came again and it was so strong I saw spots before my eyes.
They finished inside me, the pussy man first, the arse man a few minutes later, and let me crumple down, my passages spasming helplessly.
‘Christ, that was …’ said the man behind me.
‘Yeah,’ his friend agreed. ‘Intense.’
‘Get off her now,’ said the brute. ‘She needs a bit of time without a cock in her.’
They drew out and I lay down full-length on the bench, not caring that its wooden slats weren’t the most comfortable bedding. All that mattered was getting horizontal before my head floated away from my body.
‘OK, guys, shower up and let’s get out of here,’ said brute, in charge as usual.
They lurched off, slapping each other’s backs, panting happily.
Part of me wanted to raise my head and look the brute in the eye, but the rest of me resisted the concept of any further form of exertion. I knew he was there, though, standing over me. His shadow darkened the dancing spangles behind my eyelids.
I let my arm dangle over the side of the bench, my knuckles grazing the floor.
I heard him shift, his feet peeling themselves from the tiles and repositioning themselves. He was near my head.
‘You aren’t going to tell me that was enough for you, are you?’ he said. His voice was low and smoky but there was a dryness in his throat that made it rasp a little.
‘For now,’ I whispered.
‘How many was that again? Remind me.’
‘One in my mouth,’ I said. ‘Three in my cunt. One in my arse.’
There was movement above me. The sound of muscle in motion. I could smell him, that male scent, directly overhead. He was jerking off.
‘Tell me about it, slut,’ he said, his breathing laboured. ‘Tell me how you feel.’
‘It’s hard to talk,’ I said, swallowing. ‘Because my mouth is dry. That sort of clicky dryness.’
‘You need a drink,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ve got one for you.’
I don’t think he was talking about fizzy glucose.
‘So that’s your mouth. What else?’
‘My clit feels swollen, really sensitive, like I couldn’t bear for anyone to touch it again. And my cunt’s a bit sore, tender round the opening, stretched.’
‘Where it had three cocks in it earlier.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And what about your arse?’
‘Still wide open. I can feel the burn all the way up inside. I can feel where it was. Maybe there’ll be another cock up there later. It’s still early.’
‘Oh, yes. There’s time for more cocks up that big bum, plenty of time. I hope one of them’ll be mine.’
‘You can have me.’
I felt the warm splash on my face, my eyelids, my brow. It dripped into my hairline, clogging me up, covering me. I wanted to keep it there until it dried on me, wear it all day, my own filthy perverted face-cream.
I lifted my hands and rubbed it in.
‘Oh, God,’ said the brute, subsiding beside me on the bench. ‘Oh, God, I can’t believe you.’
‘I can’t believe myself sometimes,’ I said.
‘You got here all right then?’ he said, stroking my hair.
‘Yeah, no problems.’
‘Hang on, I’ll get you some water. You can barely speak.’
He brought a bottle of good, cold, plain wet stuff. I emptied a bit over my face before putting it to my lips and glugging.
‘I did get followed though,’ I said, once I had drunk deep enough to get rid of the clicky dryness.
‘Really? But you were OK?’
‘Yeah. He didn’t follow me in here. Didn’t have a membership.’
‘Maybe he’s waiting for you outside.’
‘Maybe.’
‘And when you come out, still sore and sticky from all the sex, he’ll grab you in the car park and bend you over the wall. Then he’ll pull down your skirt and knickers and drive himself into you, hard, while the customers come and go, cheering him on, remembering how they’ve all had you themselves.’
I opened my eyes at last, tingling through my exhaustion at the thought.
‘Mmm,’ I said.
He reached down and ruffled my hair.
‘Come on. Get in the shower. The place opens properly in ten minutes.’
My tag team was still in the showers when the brute and I picked the one at the end. They watched us as the brute pressed the button to let the water flow over our heads. My eyelids unstuck and my skin was cleansed. The brute kneaded shampoo into my scalp and shower gel over my breasts while I leant against him, legs still unsteady. He stepped aside to put the bottles back and I sank to my knees, the water splashing around and above me, blinded by the never-ending stream down my face.
The brute crouched down beside me, then he sat and manoeuvred me between his thighs, wrapping me up in his ironbound arms.
We kissed in the shower stream while the other men clicked their tongues and made ‘awww’ noises.
‘Was that good?’ one of them asked. ‘Did we do right?’
‘You did great,’ said my brute, breaking off for a moment. ‘Blinding. Next time we’ll have to think of somewhere else to do it. Maybe somewhere in the open air. What do you think, Miss Slutty-knickers? Do you want a next time?’
‘God, yes. And you boys are all invited.’
‘Who was best?’ This was the squash winner.
‘It’s not a competition,’ I said. ‘But maybe we can do one of those. Maybe an endurance test. You can take turns. Who can go the longest in me. We could have categories – blowjob first, then in my cunt, then in my arse. Who do you think would win that?’
‘I can go for ages in a pussy but a blowjob finishes me in seconds.’
‘I’m the other way around. Well, not seconds. Minutes maybe. I don’t reckon you’d last long in her arse though. God, it’s tight.’
They were still arguing about this as they wandered off, towelling themselves or picking up their sports bags.
The brute and I fell back into our kiss. While he caressed me with one hand, the other reached away from us. I tried to peek at what he was doing but he held my head firm, lips locked, face angled exactly in the wrong direction for a sly glimpse.
There was a hammering at the door and a female voice called a warning.
‘Jim, we need you in five. Your first gym induction’s here.’
He let me go, with a breath of regret.
I looked sideways at the tiles. In the vapour he had traced four words.
‘You can have me.’
The Boys Next Door
Heather Towne
I’d only gone across the hall to see if Dane had any spare eggs for breakfast. He didn’t, but he invited me inside to wait as he went down to the corner grocery to pick up eggs and a few other things he needed. I was going to go with him, but then I would’ve missed out on the thrill of a lifetime – my first full-bore homosexual experience.
I’d known Dane for just a couple of weeks, since he moved into the apartment next to mine in the rundown building in the university section of town. He was a tall, slim, dark-haired guy with flashing brown eyes, and a warm smile was always playing about the corners of his red mouth. He was very friendly, and I reciprocated.
That morning, he had a buddy staying over, a friend from his hometown – Brennan. I first glimpsed t
he guy when Dane took off and I walked down the hall of his one-bedroom, headed for the washroom. The bedroom door was half open, and I couldn’t help but notice the guy sprawled out on his back on the bed, sheet down around his knees.
I stopped at the door, looking in. Brennan had short, soft, straw-blond hair, a deep, golden, all-over tan, a boyish, almost feminine physique. He was small and slender, his limbs smooth and supple, chest devoid of hair and sporting two tan, puffy, girl-like nipples. His cock hung down over his smooth-shaven balls.
I gripped the doorjamb, staring at the guy. He was sleeping, his chest slowly rising and falling, his plush lips partly open, long-lashed eyelids closed. I don’t know, there was just something about the sleeping beauty – he was beautiful, his body a boyish work of art – that stirred something in me, something I hadn’t felt for a while, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel.
For a fully-formed twenty-year-old, I was still very unsure about my own sexuality, very insecure. I’d play-kissed with boys, sure, pretending they were my ‘girlfriends’ and I was the lusty male, play-pumping their clothed cocks with my cock as I faked making love to them. But that was back in my old hometown, where I’d also dated girls, and passed off as a phase my own rather heightened excitement during those male-on-male play-dates (and the stains on the front of my jeans that often resulted from them).
So, as I stared at Brennan’s lovely laid-out body, I felt a stirring in my loins, strange sensations welling up inside me that I was compelled to explore further. I slipped inside the silent bedroom, walked up to the guy.
His cock seemed to swell before my staring eyes, definitely flip to the side off his balls and lengthen. His lips moved, his eyelids squeezing tighter, and he moaned. Maybe he was having a wet dream. He was a living dream to me, right before me, my own balls tingling, my cock surging with blood and stiffening in my jeans whether I liked it or not.
I liked it.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, alongside Brennan’s narrow waist, slowly, carefully, quietly, holding my breath. The bed sagged but didn’t creak. Brennan sighed, his clean-cut cock rising upwards, sliding in an arc up his groin as it swelled even larger. His nipples seemed to stiffen and thicken right along.
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