There’s a guy I haven’t fucked, but who I’ve thought about fucking. I’ve thought about fucking him a lot. Because I haven’t fucked him yet, I dream about fucking him: filthy, explicit dreams that leave me waking up hot and horny, grinding my junk into the sheets in search of friction. Last night I didn’t just dream about this boy but about two of his friends as well. Two of his best friends, who helped me fuck him. For the purpose of this story, let’s call them Oliver and Liam, because I want to talk about how hot it was to watch the boy get fucked by people who know him even better than me.
This post is now available to listen to, thanks to the brilliant Girl on the Net’s audio porn project:
We’re walking together – the boy I’m fucking and two of his friends. It’s a dream, so I can’t see their faces but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the instinctive knowledge that they’re his friends, his best friends, and they know that he and I are fucking. I am glowing because he isn’t embarrassed of me, he’s told them about me. We might not be dating but they accept me enough to tease me, and I’m bantering back rather than blushing.
He’s blushing, though, because I make a joke about his stamina in bed. To hide his slight discomfort he pulls me in for a kiss and suddenly we’re making out. I’m giddy – whenever we do this I can’t remember why we stopped doing this. I press into him, backing him into a wall, standing on tiptoe to wrap my arms around his neck. His hands slide from my waist to my arse, groping me and stopping kissing me just long enough to remind me that his friends are still watching.
Now I’m blushing.
Liam makes a comment, something teasing. His words make me bolder. I grind subtly against the boy – wanting to get my own back – and he moans into my mouth. I am so hungry for his sounds, but maybe more eager for his best friends to know that I can fuck him until he whimpers. I rub his hard dick through the denim of his jeans, and I pull back just as he moans again so they can definitely hear it too. I’m flushed and panting but he’s flustered and embarrassed.
“Want me to suck your cock?”
He bites his lip and closes his eyes before he nods. He wants it, but he’s not used to someone being so bold about wanting him, not caring if his friends are only a few metres away. I begin to undo his belt and suddenly – it’s a dream, remember – Oliver is beside me. He deftly takes out the boy’s cock, grinning at me.
“Don’t give it to him straight away – you need to make him work for it.”
His hand is on the boy’s dick, his thumb and forefinger forming a tight, cock-ring-like grip at the bask of his cock. It’s tighter than I’d be brave enough to hold him, and as I stare down at his strong fingers I realise that Oliver is making the boy’s dick stand to attention as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. The hotness is not just in the strength of his grip is around the base of the boy’s cock, it’s the familiarity with which he touches it. He touches it like he’s fucked him before.
When I meet his eyes – my own wide in surprise – he’s still grinning. It’s not that Oliver thinks that I don’t know how to fuck the boy – it’s that he wants to share how hot it can be to fuck him like this. It’s not a competition to see who can fuck him best; if anything, it’s a competition between me and the boy, and they’re helping me win. They’re helping me cheat. Fuck, this is hot.
Liam is on my other side, leaning casually against the wall and watching Oliver tease the boy’s dick. I watch the boy’s face – his eyes shut again and his breathing uneven as Oliver plays with him. The boy grunts; Oliver slapped his dick. Well, tapped it, firmly, his other hand still tight around the base. Liam laughs at my shock as I watch him slap the boy’s dick again, harder this time. I wonder how many times they’ve done this: how many times do your best friends need to fuck you to know you this well?
“Kiss him,” Oliver instructs me. “He wants a lot more than this.”
I do, revelling in how he moans and flinches as Oliver continues to spank his cock. I get lost in kissing him like this, when he’s blushing and totally submitting to what’s happening to his dick. He almost whines when I pull away because I want to watch his face as Oliver hits him. His cock is hard and red and aching, and now Liam’s hand is on his shoulder – pinning him to the wall and holding him up. Fuck.
Oliver grins at me, making sure I know that we’re doing this together, then orders the boy to look at him. He waits until he does, lifting heavy eyelids to meet Oliver’s gaze. He keeps looking at him while Oliver deliberately and firmly pinches his foreskin. The boy whimpers. Then Oliver’s mouth is on his dick, sucking him for a few seconds before pulling back. His fingers are still around the base of his cock, which he offers to me.
“Want her to hurt you?” Oliver asks, and the boy shakes his head. I hesitate, but Liam is beside me, telling me that that isn’t his safe-word, that he knows how to say no if he really wants to. The first slap is awkward but Oliver isn’t here to critique my efforts but to encourage me to hit his dick harder. (“He can take more than you’d think.”) As Oliver’s teasing spurs me on, I wonder if they planned this. The idea of him asking his best friends to show me how to fuck him like this is overwhelmingly hot.
The boy’s dick gets harder and harder as I hurt him, until he’s begging for more, for less, for it to stop. Liam kisses him, swallowing his moans and cries. Their kiss is hard and messy and possessive, and I could watch it forever, but Oliver is instructing me how to pinch the boy’s frenulum, his foreskin, his balls. I don’t think it’s possible for his dick to get any more red or raw, but Oliver tells me to keep going while Liam bites kisses into the boy’s neck.
Our hands on him, hurting him in just the way he likes; Liam’s mouth. His best friends, helping me fuck him. Liam is really holding him up now, the boy almost too overwhelmed by the three of us working him over together to stand. Oliver releases his grip around the his dick and tells me to go for it. A second later my mouth is around the boy’s cock and my hand is stroking his shaft.
Liam keeps talking, but he’s teasing the boy, not me. They know I can do this: I’m good at this. They trust me to get him off with my mouth. But they can help, of course. Oliver’s hand reaches down, his fingers finding their way between my hand and my lips. He pinches the boy’s foreskin again – far more lightly this time – and his dick twitches in my mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I wake up as he comes down my throat.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.