Two hours later the fucking had finally stopped, but Kota's body felt like it had been run over by a freight train and then backed up over again. Oh god… the fucking… Riley and Dennis had taken turns riding him like their lives depended on it, switching positions every few minutes, never giving him more than thirty seconds to catch his breath. He had cum fourteen times. Fourteen. The first six had been from Riley bouncing reverse cowgirl while screaming bloody murder, cheeks clapping so loud the bedframe started cracking. The next five came while Dennis rode him face to face, moaning in that high, needy voice and cumming untouched every single time Kota bottomed out. The last three were from both of them at once, one on his cock and the other sitting on his face, grinding their asses against him until he exploded again and again. His balls ached like they had been squeezed dry.
his cock was raw and sensitive, and every muscle in his hips and thighs burned. The bedframe was broken, wooden slats snapped clean in half, mattress tilted at a weird angle, sheets soaked with sweat, lube, and cum. The room looked like a battlefield, pillows thrown everywhere, clothes scattered, a lamp knocked over, and the orange walls still echoing with the ghost of Riley's wild screams.
Thankfully Eli's voice finally boomed up the stairs. "Boys! Ribs are ready! Come eat before they get cold!"
Kota crawled out of the wreckage on hands and knees, legs shaking so badly he almost collapsed halfway to the door. Riley and Dennis helped him up, both of them giggling like nothing had happened, their baggy sweatpants and fluffy shirts back on like they were innocent angels. Kota's own clothes felt sticky and wrong, but he pulled them on anyway. The three of them stumbled downstairs together, Kota leaning on the railing the whole way. His dad and Eli were already at the kitchen table, plates piled high with glistening ribs, corn on the cob, and potato salad. The smell of barbecue sauce hit him hard, but his stomach was too twisted to feel hungry.
Khalil looked up and laughed the second he saw Kota's face. "Damn, son, you look exhausted. What the hell did you three get up to up there?"
Kota forced a weak smile, voice hoarse. "Pushup contest. Riley challenged me. We went pretty hard."
Khalil's laugh got louder, proud and booming. "That's my boy! Acting like real men, building strength the old-fashioned way. I used to do the same thing with my buddies back in the day. Good for you, Kota. Keeps the blood pumping."
He clapped Eli on the shoulder. "See? Told you my kid's got the right mindset. We're leaving soon though, so eat quick. I swapped that graveyard shift, but I still gotta be on site by midnight."
They all sat down. Kota dropped into the chair across from his dad, every movement sending a fresh ache through his overused hips. Riley and Dennis sat on either side of him like nothing was weird, grabbing ribs and chatting about school like normal teenagers. Kota forced himself to eat a few bites, the sweet sauce tasting like cardboard after everything that had happened upstairs. He drank glass after glass of water, throat still raw from moaning and the way Riley had used his face. By the time the plates were half empty he had chugged so much he needed to piss badly.
"Bathroom," he muttered, standing up on shaky legs. "Be right back."
He slipped down the hallway, pushed open the bathroom door, and stood at the toilet, finally letting go with a long sigh of relief. Mid-stream the door opened again. Dennis slid inside quietly, closing it behind him without the others noticing. The younger boy stepped right up beside Kota, eyes bright and makeup still a little smudged from earlier.
"Do you want me to hold it while you pee?"