My Gooner Best Friends Made Me A Cum Dumpster Practice Girl 04: More (Patreon)

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Chapter 4: More

A few days later, we were back at Dylan's house, hanging out like old times, a recently rare break in our gooning routine. After that whole night with Eric, things settled down on their own. Nobody messaged on the server, nobody cracked open the vaseline, and nobody made it weird either. Summer was leaning into late summer, the nights cooling off earlier, and the vibe between us felt calmer, more mature, like we had burned off the craziest stretch of it and come out the other side still the same three friends. I figured the peak was behind us, and the rest of the summer would just coast out from there.

Of course, I was very wrong about that.

One night, the three of us sat on the carpet playing video games. Dylan sat closer to me than he used to, his knee resting warmly against mine, and Kale kept glancing at the door, like it might pop open again.

"Okay, I guess I need something," Dylan said during a loading screen, turning his head to me. "Eat my ass, baby girl."

I set my controller down on the carpet and looked at him, not even sure at this point if he meant he wanted me to lick him or if he was just talking smack in a gaming sesh. 

He removed the ambiguity when he rolled forward onto his knees and tugged his shorts down, his round, smooth cheeks pale in the TV light. I knelt behind him as he turned his attention back to the TV. I spread him apart with both thumbs, and leaned in. His cheeks had a soft, smooth give under my thumbs, warm from sitting on the carpet, and he dropped down onto his elbows and arched his back, lifting his hips up at me until I felt the heat coming off him. 

I did what he asked. I pressed my face in between his cheeks and dragged my tongue flat against him, and he tasted warm and clean, fresh soap and smooth skin, nothing like what I had braced for. His cheeks closed warmly around my face until my whole world was his heat, his thighs tensing under my palms whenever I hit the spot dead center. He kept the controller in his hands the entire time, and I heard his thumbs clicking through a menu somewhere above me while his breathing stretched slower and deeper, until the clicks started lagging behind the game music. Every so often his back arched further and he pushed himself back onto my mouth, grinding softly against my tongue, greedy about it without saying a word, and my own hardness throbbed against the hem of my shirt, untouched, every single time he did it.

Kale's controller clicked onto the carpet behind me, and I heard the vaseline tub crack open, that wet two-finger scoop I could identify by sound alone at this point. He shuffled up on his knees and greased himself behind me, breathing audibly through his nose, and his hands hooked around my hips and pulled them higher, until I was propped on my elbows with my face still buried in Dylan, knees spread wide on the carpet.

The blunt heat of him settled against me, and I honestly did not know if I had it in me to take a dick. Everything back there was still tender from the rough night earlier that week, used and loose and aching every time I shifted my body. I didn't say anything, and I didn't pull away either. 

He leaned in slowly, and my body argued for about a breath before it remembered the whole summer and gave, and he slid into me in one long, greasy push, so slowly I felt every bit of his thickness spreading me around him. Being that sore made every inch hit harder. The stretch rolled up into my stomach, heavy, fullness stacked on top of dense pressure, and a muffled sound came out of me straight into Dylan's butt.

Kale settled deep and held there, warm and firm, and started a lazy rhythm that rocked me forward onto Dylan with every pump, so my tongue did half its work off his momentum. The three of us rocked together in a slow chain, Dylan humming, Kale breathing through his nose, me pinned warmly in the middle, while the game sat there waiting for somebody to press start again.

Dylan set his controller down mid-rock and pushed back against my mouth.

"I think I want what he's getting," he said at the TV, not at either of us.

Kale's rhythm never broke. "What?"

"I wanna get fucked. I wanna be the practice girl too."

Kale pulled out of me slowly, and the sudden empty feeling back there ached worse than the soreness had. He shuffled over on his knees, cracked the tub open again, and greased two fingers while Dylan stayed arched over his controller.

"You sure?" Kale said.

"Do it before I think about it."

I slid up beside Dylan, kept him spread with my thumbs, and watched Kale work a greasy finger into him. Dylan's whole back seized under his t-shirt. He twisted on it, hips rolling, knees sliding wider on the carpet, and I reached under him and stroked him while Kale opened him up with a level of patience he had never used on me. 

Dylan started quietly, small shaky exhales into the carpet, and built fast, humping himself backward onto Kale's hand before long, and my own hardness jumped against my shirt watching him do it.

Kale lined up and leaned in, and I watched my best friend's face while he took it, mouth falling open, forehead dropping to the floor, a long whine pressed flat into the carpet. I seized the opportunity as soon as it occurred to me, and I quickly scooted sideways under him, and pulled his mouth onto my cock.

He seemed distracted enough by the dick in his mouth that he took Kale easier than expected. 

Kale sank halfway in as Dylan slapped the carpet. He groaned like he wanted to talk, and I pulled my dick out of his mouth. 

"Okay. Okay. Keep going," he panted, and pushed back for the rest of Kale's dick himself, while I pressed my dick back between his lips, searching for his throat.

"How is it?" I asked, Kale rocking into him with increased speed.

He grumbled around my dick, in a somewhat positive way. 

Kale picked up his pace and Dylan quit holding himself so stiffly, his elbows sliding wider apart on the carpet, his chest sinking lower, his hips staying up for it. Every push rocked him forward, and he quit fighting the rocking and just rode it, loosening his hips, groaning into his own arm like he had done this before.

I got too close and pulled out of him. I scooted the rest of myself under him, flat on my back, until my face lay beneath his stomach where he hung hard and heavy, bobbing with every pump Kale gave him. I lifted my chin and closed my mouth around him.

He jerked like I'd shocked him. A thin whine came out of his throat, boyish and desperate, and his elbows buckled until his face dropped into the carpet beside my thigh.

"Oh my god," he said into the floor. "Do not stop doing that."

I barely had to work. Kale's rhythm did it for me, feeding Dylan forward into my mouth on every push and dragging him back out again, so Dylan humped between us without meaning to, his thighs trembling warmly on either side of my head, smooth where they brushed my ears. He leaked onto my tongue steadily, salty and alive, and my own dick throbbed against my stomach every time he whimpered.

"Dude, he's shaking," Kale said behind him, breathing hard. "He likes it even more than you do."

"Shut up," Dylan panted, except he pushed back onto Kale while he said it, hard, and whatever came out of him next wasn't words at all.

Kale grabbed a fistful of his curls and Dylan arched into the grip immediately, mouth open, hips working both directions at once, my best friend turning into the practice girl right in front of me, and nobody had to teach him how to do it. I guess he learned from watching me.

The push-button handle popped, and all three of us froze at once, Kale with his fistful of Dylan's curls, me flat on my back with Dylan throbbing against my tongue.

Eric strolled in mid-sentence, and he had a guy with him. Nobody grabbed for a blanket. Nobody even uncoupled.

"See?" Eric said. "I told you."

"This is Henry," he added. Henry was even bigger than Eric, a heavy jaw, dark hair buzzed close, a decent tan above the waistline. He looked over the whole pile of boy he had walked in on, while we wondered what exactly was happening.

"Hey," Henry said.

"Sup," all three of us said back almost at the same time, and Kale leaned sideways and gave him a fist bump without pulling out of Dylan, which made Dylan grunt into the carpet.

Henry stripped his shorts off right there by the door, and I understood immediately why Eric brought him. Even soft his member hung heavier than any of the rest of us, long and fat at the same time, swaying against his thigh when he stepped out of his shorts, and my hole clenched on nothing just from looking at it.

"Jesus," Kale said.

"Yeah," Eric said. "That's why he's here."

I slid out from under Dylan and knelt up behind him before anybody assigned me anywhere, because I knew exactly where the middle of this was about to be. Kale pulled out and sat back on his heels, working himself lazily, giving up the spot without a word. Dylan stayed arched for it. I scooped vaseline, greased myself with a hand that would not hold steady, and pressed the blunt heat of me against him. He pushed back as I pushed in, and he gripped me hotter and tighter than my own fist had ever managed, warm as hell and alive, squeezing in little pulses around me, and I finally understood what they had been feeling.

Eric knelt in behind me, greased himself, and slid into me with that familiar, heavy stretch while I held still in Dylan and tried to survive both ends of it. He pumped a while, pulled out slowly, and Henry's weight replaced his, and the blunt press of him opened me wider than Eric had at full depth. I shoved into Dylan in rhythm with my breath as Henry's momentum controlled all of it. 

They traded off like that, back and forth behind me, one sliding out while the other pushed in, and I quit supplying any motion of my own, every push feeding me forward into Dylan on their rhythm, a chain running from them into me into him.

"Which one is that?" Dylan panted at the carpet.

"Henry," I breathed, and the next push drove the name out of me again.

Apparently they had talked about my newly found ability to take two dicks at once, because they suddenly quit trading off and pushed in together instead, Eric first, Henry crowding in beside him, both of them opening me around two blunt heats at once. The stretch burned hotter than it had when Eric and Dylan shared me, and I dropped my face against Dylan's back and whined while they throbbed against each other in me.

"Fuck, that's a lot," I whined, but I leaned back at the same time, encouraging them to keep stretching me out. I wondered if my ass was ever going to be the same again. 

Dylan slid forward off my dick, turned around on his knees, and joined the lineup, leaving me empty at both ends for a breath.

"Pairs," Eric said. "He can take two."

"Isn't that a little much?" Kale said.

"Nah, we're gonna edge inside him, goon in his ass."

I dropped onto my elbows on the carpet, and Kale and Dylan crowded in behind me first. Kale rolled onto his back and slid underneath me instead, pulling my hips down until I sank onto his familiar thickness, and Dylan knelt in close behind me, leaned his weight over my back, and wedged in slowly beside him, the two of them spreading me around their combined width until a long breath flattened out of me against Kale's shoulder.

Eric and Henry knelt on either side of my head, stroking themselves lazily, staying ready, and every so often one of them nudged at my cheek until I turned and opened up and worked him on my tongue for a while, vaseline and salt and warm skin. The intensity back there was somehow easier than last time. My body had quit stiffening. My poor, battered hole had apparently learned some endurance. It stretched and held them, pulsing around two separate heartbeats, and I rocked with their rhythm and felt myself settling into my new place in this group, the center of it, what all four of them revolved around. 

My own hardness hung under me, bobbing with every push, and nobody touched it, including me. Whenever one of them got close he tapped out, breathing hard, and a fresh one pushed in before I even felt empty, each new weight opening me a little differently than the one before it.

"Switch," Kale panted after a while, pulling out of me quickly. "I was about to blow."

"Weak," Eric said, and he crowded in where Kale had just been, up next to Dylan. "This is the best edge I've ever had."

They both started thrusting heavily, and I reached back to try and feel it. It was so strange what was sticking out of me. I felt their balls rubbing together, wet and greasy. I squeezed what I could reach, and listened to them hiss above and below me. 

Dylan froze. "Damn, I'm cumming."

Eric froze next. "DON'T!"

But he did. I moved my own hips up and down, rubbing over both of them as Dylan pulsed his load out inside me, gushing over his genetic lookalike's dick. Eric gave another thrust, and I felt it push some of the frothy load out from me onto their balls. 

"Fuck fuck fuck," he said rapidly, "I'm done too."

Dylan chuckled against my back as Eric throbbed, swelling even thicker against his lookalike inside me, and he thrust quickly into me several times, burying himself to the hilt with each push. Every push forced more of the mess out around them both, dripping in a nasty pile down my thighs and onto the carpet.

Nobody stayed soft for long. Kale and the random new guy Henry packed into me after that, Henry's heavy stretch on one side and Kale's familiar thickness crowding in beside it, and I breathed through the fit until the burn backed off and left just the weight of both of them. When Kale tapped out, Dylan greased himself back up and wedged in slowly beside Henry, longer and twitchier than the thickness he replaced, and after that every combination of the four of them took a turn stuffed in me together. The odd men out knelt by my shoulders and kept themselves hard, warm skin bumping my cheek whenever one of them shifted, or else hung out on the bed trading commentary like I was the game now. I stayed on my elbows and knees on the carpet and held my hips up for whoever came next, my arms trembling, sweat cooling on my lower back, the TV still waiting on a loading screen.

Each pair stretched me differently. Kale's thickness crowded whoever slid in beside him until the two of them had to fight for room, and Eric's weight bottomed out deeper than anybody he shared me with, a heavy pressure up under my stomach that pushed a grunt out of me, into my forearm, every time. Dylan was the twitchy one, grinding in little circles while the other guy pumped, and whenever a pair synced up I felt their balls rubbing together under me, greasy and warm.

"This is the sesh now," Kale breathed behind me, holding himself deep and still to cool off, his hands flat on my cheeks. "He's the goon sesh."

They kept rotating like that, trading ends of me, edging until they blasted, then going again when it was their turn.

"Don't you have a fleshlight?" Henry asked at one point.

"I'm the fleshlight," I muttered into the carpet, and whoever was in me grunted and throbbed, which I took as agreement.