Boys Playing Together.

I can hear them talking but I can't respond. I would have but the toe of his boot is stuck inside my mouth and I'd much rather use my tongue to lick it clean than make chit chat. It fascinates me that while the thought of someone else's washed toothbrush in my mouth horrifies me, the reality of a filthy boot against my tongue delights me.

It delights me even more as the stranger holds my hair in his grip and thrusts me harder onto my partner's boot.

"I won't dislocate her jaw right?" He asks as he watches me wince.

My jaw aches and I know tomorrow I will regret this.

"Even if you do," my partner responds, "I can pop it right back in."

They laugh together. I wonder why this works for me but I know that it does. I find great satisfaction in their comraderie as they abuse me together. There's something about brotherly love between two men who are sharing a woman that really works for me. I remember one time I invited a guy over to try and initiate a three-way and while the two of them sat bonding over how sexy and filthy I could be, it turned me into randy submissive lady goo. And so now, I find myself reacting so strongly to them.

Even as I am tied down — or is it called something else when you are bent over and tied up — I feel as if I cannot stay still. That's not something I experience very often. I'm not bubbly or fidgety. Staying still is a natural part of me. Yet I feel myself twisting my fingers to reach the rope around my wrists. I don't want to undo it but it's still my natural response to immediately figure out whether I could. It's an intellectual challenge, not anything else. In this case, I wouldn't be able to do it unnoticed. Or maybe not at all. That turns me on more.

More but not as much as them sitting side-by-side and taking turns holding my head while they swapped the boots in my mouth with each others. I must have consumed a massive amount of dirt yet I keep going back to suck on them with enormous fervour. Now that I know what it is like to lose it, I realize what a privilege it is to be unapologetically uninhibited. And so I don't care not to show my enthusiasm. If I could bear a moment of tearing my mouth away from the leather I would thank them.

As soon as that thought occurs to me I start expressing my gratitude under my breath. The stranger doesn't know what I am saying but my partner knows my mumbles well enough to know what I am saying. Immediately, he pulls the boot out of my mouth.

"What did you say?" He asks.

It takes me a moment to move my jaw. It feels so incredibly sore I wonder how I will chew anything.

"I said, thank you," I mumble as a wave of shame washes over me.

"Which one of us are you thanking?" He asks.

If pain is my favorite toy, then shame is his and together they combine to make a game that is far more stimulating than chess.

"Both of you," I continue looking down at the pool of drool on the floor before me.

I feel two hands stroking either side of my head.

"She's so sweet," says the foreign tone of the man I've never had before.

I'm startled by how different they sound. I don't know why I always expect all men to sound the same. I know they don't. Yet I think they will. And then when they don't, I'm surprised. I brought both of them in here and now I'm surprised there's more than one. It's oddly unsettling to have so many hands touching you. You can flinch away from one pair of hands slapping your face but when there is another pair waiting on the other side you don't know where to hide.

I don't know where to hide.

I take deep breaths to prepare myself for the next blow yet it always lands before I am finished breathing out. Faster and faster. Way faster than I am used to with one person. So fast I don't get the time to scream out loud. Instead every scream in stuffed back down my throat by fingers striking against my mouth. My brain is fuzzy and my head is starting to hurt. I don't want them to stop but the trickling coming from my nose is indication enough for them.

They are nice guys.

I used to think I don't like nice guys but I really, really do. Assholes are a dime a dozen but nice guys who hurt you good are both rare and wonderful.

As they wipe the tears and sweat off my face I want to tell them I think they are nice but as soon as I open my mouth to talk, I see my partner unzip and push his cock inside my mouth. His friend follows suit and soon I have a mouthful of cock. I feel embarrassed sometimes to admit how much I love the smell of cock. I love all of it mixed together, the sweat and the hair and the dried up piss and the pheromones and manly dribble. I could get high off it. I could spend hours just sniffing it like a wild bitch. But this is about being unapologetic about being a wanton rabid whore and so I go after their treasure just as I went after their dirt— with abandon.

And it feels good.

It's weirdly hot when their cocks run together inside my mouth and they talk about how wet and warm it is inside me. I like them both in there together. I no longer care about my jaw. Fuck my jaw. I run my tongue between their cocks and try to push them closer together. With my lips I trace every inch of each one of them  and I try to thrust both of them into my throat all at once.

"She's so greedy," he says to his new friend.

"I see why you keep her," he responds holding my head to push them both deeper.

As they fuck my mouth together I feel my entire jaw relaxing as if it just can't jaw anymore. I just can't care anymore and so I let myself turn into a sniffling, choking, retching, drooling spectacle. I no longer know whose hands are holding my head and whose cock is on which side. We all just taste like a giant glob of filth.

A giant glob of gooey filth that mixes inside my mouth and travels down my throat as I feel them simultaneously shudder. I can't distinguish the taste of one from the other and I don't want to let either cock out of my mouth. My mouth tastes like an oddly satisfying cesspool. Like something that shouldn't be delicious but is. Like popcorn and caramel. I scent of sex is akin to cocaine. Sometimes I feel like just an animal. Too vile to unleash upon society. At those times, I feel rather content.

Like now.

I feel my head drop weightlessly and my hair on my face don't bother me anymore. I feel the cum dripping down my chin and just feel it drip instead of trying to wipe it.

"That felt good," I hear my partner say to the stranger.

He must be nodding his agreement.

"You want to try the other holes together?" He asks him.

I don't know why I love this shared experience of fucking me so much.

"You think she can take it?" The now-familiar voice asks.

"It doesn't matter," he says.

They walk behind me and I feel their fingers probing inside me together. I'm suddenly so aware of how wet I am and just how much of it has spilled over.

"I think she can take it," they both said together.

And laugh.

Boys always make a giant mess when they play together.