My Gooner Best Friends Made Me A Cum Dumpster Practice Girl 02: Gooners Gathered (Patreon)

OnlyLit Link ;)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 2: Gooners Gathered

My ass was still sore as hell, and the weird juices that came out of my ass last time freaked me out. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about doing it again.

Kale texted the group a couple days later like nothing unusual had happened.

Kale: Basement tonight?

Dylan: Obviously

I waited an hour to respond, just letting it sit in my head for a bit.

Me: Yeah

None of us had a girlfriend, or much experience of any kind, honestly, because we all had the same problem where girls made us forget how to talk right. Dylan once answered "you too" when a girl said she liked his backpack. Kale would just stand there and flex his jaw, which I knew was him being nervous, but the funny thing was that it would come across as weird, and mildly aggressive. So over time we got closer, out of default hormonal need for human connection, until a goon sesh ended up with me bent over the couch, getting fucked by both of my best friends. And now we were having another one.

That night the gooners gathered, and we jumped straight into porn like any other session. The three of us stood in front of the big flat screen, naked from the waist down with tee shirts on, spanking it in a slow, greasy rhythm, the TV light flickering on our bare legs. My hole still ached from last time, a dull reminder every time I shifted my weight, or clenched it on purpose, and I honestly liked it by then. 

I kept wondering if it would escalate again, or when, and soon I caught both of them glancing at me. Kale did it with his eyes only, head aimed at the screen, jaw flexing. Dylan was worse at hiding it, his whole face would turn, and his eyes would run from my face down my legs and back up. I felt like a gazelle drinking from the watering hole, as the lions watched me with increasing hunger. Neither of them said a word, but I could feel the desire coming off them.

I read the need on their faces. They had actually fucked now. They'd been balls deep in a real human body, and no video could compete with that now. And I couldn't stop thinking about it either, just from the other side. While they were remembering how my warm body gripped them and made them feel like a man, I was remembering their weight pinning me over the couch arm, the stretch inside me, the heat blooming deep when Kale finished in me. 

I was having my own new experience, and it kept surprising me how much of it was about them. There was a certain satisfaction in being what got my buddies off, in knowing they were hungry for me.

I just bent over the arm of the couch again, getting into position, keeping my eyes on the TV, watching a girl take two dicks inside her at once.

"You guys can do it again if you want."

"Fuck yeah," one of them said.

Kale stepped up behind me first, scooped a glob of vaseline, and pressed his thickness against me, and this time my body remembered what to do. I breathed out and he slid in with one slow, heavy push, and the burn that had scared me a couple nights before barely lasted a breath before it melted into the full, stretched feeling I'd been thinking about ever since. It still hurt, but in a good way, and he was gentle with my body as he pumped steadily, his hands warm on my hips. 

I pushed back to meet him every time, timing my hips against his pumps so his weight sank deeper, and Kale grunted appreciatively behind me whenever I did it. My dick pressed against the fabric below me, ignored. 

Dylan couldn't sit still. He scooted down the couch toward my end, one cushion at a time, stroking himself steadily to keep himself hard, his eyes bouncing between the girl on the TV and me getting it right next to him. Each glance at me lasted longer than the last, and pretty soon his knee bumped my elbow and he was just there, kneeling up on the cushion beside my face, fist still working lazily, close enough that I could smell him, warm skin and ball sweat, pure male aroma. I turned my head off the cushion to look up at him. He stared at my face for a second, at whatever expression I was making as a result of Kale's pumping, and his eyes dropped to my open mouth, almost like he wanted to kiss me. He even leaned in a little, close enough that I felt the heat coming off him, his breath quick and shallow above me. But I knew what it was for. I knew exactly what he was waiting on.

"Go ahead," I said, and he responded immediately, shifting forward, pressing into my mouth.

This was even newer than taking it from behind. Getting humped over the couch arm was mostly bracing, holding still while they did the work, but my mouth had an actual job to do. I had to keep my lips wrapped over my teeth, keep my jaw stretched open against the ache that started almost immediately, remember to breathe in the little gaps whenever he pulled back. And Dylan had none of Kale's patience. His first push was careful, just the warm weight of him resting on my tongue, salty and alive, but the second he felt me take it he pulled out and put it back in harder, his fingers curling into my hair to hold my head steady. The two of them fell into a rhythm, Kale's pumps rocking me forward onto Dylan, Dylan's pushes shoving me back onto Kale, and I hung there between my two best friends, drooling onto the cushion, getting it from both ends like the girl on the TV. Kale finished first. He drove in deep and stayed buried, throbbing, heat blooming in me in heavy pulses while he groaned against my shoulder and squeezed my hips with both hands. His face was right by mine, watching Dylan's dick pressing in up close. 

They pulled off me about the same time, and Dylan swapped in before Kale's load had even cooled, his dick longer and somehow more eager, more forceful, reaching a deeper spot that made me grunt into the fabric. He humped quickly, the couch arm creaking under us, his breath hot on my neck. It ached way less than the first night. Mostly it just felt good, embarrassingly good, my own hardness dragging against the couch arm every pass, leaking. 

Dylan finished unannounced with a quick grunt, his hips stuttering against me. I felt him swell and throb in heavy pulses, fresh heat adding to the mess Kale had already left in me, the two of them mixing into one warm, wet slop deep in my guts. 

They did me once more each that night, and I never even came.

The night after that, nobody even texted first. I showed up after dinner, and Dylan just walked in around nine, his curls flat under his beanie, plain, unassuming look on his face, but his bulge starting to show already. Kale's mom yelled down asking if we wanted popcorn if we were "having another movie night".

····[]····

"You're like our practice girl," Dylan said after they had each taken a turn. He was stretched sideways across the couch, naked from the waist down. "Like a starter girlfriend. For practice."

"That's genius," Kale said. "Hey. Practice girl. Grab us some drinks."

My first instinct was to tell him to get his own drinks. I even opened my mouth to say it. Instead I stood up and crossed the basement to the mini fridge, naked from the waist down, both of them watching my butt the whole walk over. I pulled out two cans, cold enough to sting my fingers, carried them back, and handed one to each of my best friends. 

"Thanks," Kale said, and Dylan echoed him, and they both meant it, no joke behind it at all. My ears burned. I liked that they thanked me, and I hated how much I liked it. 

After that they got comfortable asking for stuff.

At first it stayed small, drinks and the remote, stuff a guy could ask a buddy for anyway. Within a couple nights the practice girl thing had become sort of subtly real. It hit a turning point when Kale leaned back one time, with his thick arms folded behind his head, and asked for "a long, slow blowjob." 

I gave him a long, slow, blowjob.

And soon Dylan started calling me baby girl, as in "eat my ass, baby girl," said with a completely straight face. I never dressed like a girl or anything like that, but every time one of them asked for something, I did it, and I honestly could not explain why. I just did.

One night, I was kneeling on the basement floor in front of Kale sitting on the couch, wearing just his tee shirt, and he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and dropped it over my head. It weirdly felt nice under there, dark and warm, like I had privacy, nobody watching whatever my face did while I pleasured him. Dylan scooted down the couch, lifted the edge, and fed himself in next to Kale, and I had two hard, heavy dicks to trade between in the dark.

They gave me zero instructions. For what must have been a couple hours, I kept them both edged, using my mouth as much as I could, until my jaw got sore, then doing it some more anyway. I would suck one until he started to seem worked up, swapping over whenever his thigh tensed too hard under my hand. 

The closest thing to direction was a palm settling on the back of my head once in a while and pressing down, and I would sink as deep as my throat allowed and hold there, his heat soaking into my whole face, pure male weight on my tongue, until the hand eased off. I stayed hard the entire time under that blanket, and I never touched myself once.

Kale's mom came in at one point, at the far end of the room, "just checking if you boys need anything". "We're good," Kale said quickly, surprisingly nonchalant. She couldn't see me on my knees fully under the blanket.

"Are you two sharing a blanket?" she noted, "that's cute."

"Where's the third musketeer?"

"Bathroom," Dylan said.

I heard her walk away, sighing in relief.

After she left, the thrill of almost being caught ran through both their bodies. The patience was gone. They giggled once, then started breathing hard, and their hands moved my head up and down. Kale's palm suddenly settled on the back of my head again, pressing me all the way down until I was down in his pubes, and this time he didn't ease off. He held me there for several seconds, until his thighs tensed against my shoulders, the air under the blanket hot and wet with ball sweat. 

I swallowed around him and he groaned above me, and he squirted straight down my throat in hot, hard spurts, his fingers flexing in my hair with every one. I was still swallowing when Dylan grabbed my jaw and turned my head, swapping himself in before I had even caught a full breath, and he wanted a quick, rough throat fucking. It felt like his length was all the way in my stomach, and he held me down a couple times as I gagged. He lasted maybe a dozen thrusts before he added his own load directly to my stomach. I braced and accepted the throbbing piston until it was done, before he let me off for a deep, coughing breath.

I crawled out from under the blanket sweaty, squinting at the light from the TV. My jaw ached. My hair stuck to my forehead. I was still hard, untouched, tenting the hem of Kale's tee shirt. They both grinned down at me from the couch, and I grinned back, and I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I biked home with their taste still in my mouth. My phone buzzed before I got my shoes off.

Dylan: Good practice tonight baby girl

Me: Shut up

Kale: Same time tomorrow?

Me: Yeah