Chapter 119 Please, Father...
When my ass met his thighs I shuddered so hard my teeth clacked.
Michael’s hands slid up my ribs, thumbs brushing my nipples until they peaked painfully.
“Move.”
I rolled my hips experimentally.
The drag was devastating.
I felt every inch, every vein as I lifted maybe an inch and dropped again, harder than I meant to, and Michael’s growl vibrated through both of us.
“Just like that. Do it again.”
I obeyed.
Up. Down.
Slow at first, then faster, finding a rhythm that made my cock slap wetly against his stomach with every descent.
Precum smeared between us, sticky and obscene.
My hands found his shoulders for balance; his nails dug into my hips, controlling the pace when I started to falter.
“Good boy,” he breathed against my throat. “Look at you. Fucking yourself on a priest.”
I whimpered, head tipping forward so our foreheads touched. His breath was hot on my lips.
“Faster.”
I rode him harder. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the small room.
My thighs burned and sweat slicked the small of my back. Every downward stroke brought out another shameless sound from my lips.
Then I felt heat at my back.
Baron.
He’d moved without being told, kneeling up behind me. His cock which was still hard and leaking, nudged the cleft of my ass, sliding through the mess where Michael was already buried deep.
I froze mid-thrust.
Michael’s hands clamped down, keeping me seated, impaled.
“Stay still,” he ordered.
Baron’s palms slid up my sides, hesitant at first, then he became bolder.
He pressed forward, the blunt head of his cock catching at the already stretched rim beside Michael’s thickness.
My breath punched out.
“No—” The word was automatic, panicked.
It was too much. I felt too full.
Michael’s hand shot up, wrapped around my throat.
“You’ll take it,” he said calmly. “You’ll take both of us. And you’ll thank us for it.”
Baron hesitated—I could feel the tremor in his fingers—but Michael’s voice cut through again, low and final.
“Now, Baron.”
Baron pushed.
The pressure was insane.
I cried out, sharp, ragged, as the head breached me alongside Michael.
The stretch was unlike anything I've ever felt.
My body fought it for one second, two... then gave in.
Baron slid in another inch, then another, until both cocks were seated deep, pressed tight together inside me.
I couldn’t breathe.
All I could do was feel.the impossible fullness, the heat, the way their shafts rubbed against each other through the thin wall of my body. Every tiny shift sent sparks up my spine.
Michael groaned the first real break in his control I’d heard.
“Fuck… so tight.”
Baron whimpered behind me, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades. “Will… God…”
Michael’s hand on my throat tightened fractionally. “Move.”
They did.
At first it was uncoordinated, shallow and testing thrusts.
Baron pulling back while Michael pushed in, then switching.
The friction was excruciating. It was perfect.
My cock throbbed untouched between us, leaking steadily onto Michael’s stomach.
Then they found a rhythm and I fucking broke.
They fucked me in tandem, deep, relentless.
Every thrust drove me forward into Michael’s chest and every withdrawal dragged me back onto Baron.
My hole burned, stretched beyond reason, but the pleasure was white-hot, consuming.
I could feel them sliding against each other inside me, two thick lengths rubbing, pressing, filling every inch.
My prostate took hit after hit.
I started babbling—nonsense, prayers, curses—didn’t matter.
“Please—please—Father—please—”