Caught!!
Copyright© 2026 by Max Swan
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A man in his 20s is caught jerking off his small penis in a public shower and is punished for it by an older, beastly man...
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Gay BiSexual Fiction BDSM MaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Anal Sex Enema Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting Voyeurism Public Sex Size Nudism AI Generated
His thumbs dug deeper into my cheeks, spreading my ass wider than I thought possible, the burn from his earlier spankings flaring up under the rough pressure. I could feel the cool air of the studio kissing my exposed hole, the mirrors capturing the obscene stretch from every angle—my lean, marked body splayed on the mat, his hairy bulk dominating behind me. Sweat poured down my back, mixing with the ink scrawled there, making the words ‘PUBLIC FAGGOT’ smear slightly against his grinding belly. Part of me recoiled, the vulnerability hitting like a punch, but that twisted exhibitionist rush kept me pinned, my cock leaking steadily onto the mat, throbbing with the shame of it all.
I braced myself on the mat, palms slipping in my own sweat, willing my body to open up as he pressed the thick head of his cock against my virgin ring. It was huge, fat-snouted like a battering ram, way bigger than that thin dildo my old girlfriend had jammed up there once or twice when we were wasted.
Back then, it had been weird, a stabbing humiliation that left me queasy, but I’d heard there was pleasure waiting if you pushed through. Now, with this monster, I knew resistance was pointless. He’d spanked the fight out of me, turned me into his willing prize, like some dazed jobber in the ring folding under the heel’s grip. I was his to manhandle, to break. Pushing back slightly, I tried to relax, to let him in, my breath hitching as the pressure built.
Pain exploded the second he forced the tip past my rim, a white-hot tear ripping through me. I yelped, a sharp, broken sound that echoed off the mirrors, my body trembling violently under the heavy invasion.
“Aww, quit your crying,” he grunted, his voice thick with sadistic amusement.
His hand cracked down on my sore ass again, the slap jolting me forward, but he grabbed the reddened cheek and yanked me back onto him, slamming his cock deeper with a brutal thrust. I groaned, low and guttural, the stretch burning like fire, my hole clenching futilely around the invading girth.
“Look on the bright side, sissy boy. Now you finally get to lose your virginity.”
He spread my buttocks even wider with those digging thumbs, his laugh rumbling through his chest as he adjusted his stance, the coarse hair on his thighs scraping my skin.
“Well, your anal virginity, at least. ‘Cause I’m going to pop that little cherry of yours.”
At the word “pop,” he bucked his hips hard, jamming another inch inside. I yelped again, a high-pitched squeak that made my face burn with fresh humiliation, tears stinging my eyes as I glanced at our reflection—me arched and whimpering, him leering like a conqueror.
He paused after breaching me fully, the massive cockhead lodged inside, chuckling at my pathetic noises while his hands clamped my hips in place. The fullness was overwhelming, a shocking pressure that made my guts twist, but he didn’t give me time to adjust. He pushed forward steadily, burying more of his thick shaft, and I barked out in agony, my arms shaking as I fought to hold myself up.
“Yeah, I think the only way to cure you of your nasty public gooning habit is a nice big cock right up your little pussy,” he taunted, staying still for a torturous second, his grip slick with my sweat.
He wiggled his hips then, making me feel every ridge and vein of that intruding head, the sensation sending sparks of unwanted heat through the pain.
“And I got a real fat one for you, don’t I, little boy?” he boasted, driving forward again, gaining ground inch by agonizing inch.
I gasped breathlessly with every thrust, my body slick and feverish, drenched in sweat that made his hands slide on my skin. The mirrors showed it all too clearly: my face contorted in pain and reluctant arousal, his hairy belly slapping against my ass as he claimed more territory. But then he hit a depth that was truly excruciating—past the stretch, it felt like he was breaking something vital inside me, a deep, tearing burn that made me sob openly, my cock twitching traitorously despite the torment.
He didn’t stop. Thrusting relentlessly now, he broke my virgin hole wide, his cock pounding into my tight ass with savage rhythm. Each slam pulled a groan from my throat, the pain mixing with a building pressure that blurred into something darker, hotter. His heavy body pinned me down, chest hair scraping my back, one hand yanking my hair to force my head up toward the mirrors.
“Watch yourself getting fucked like the slut you are,” he snarled, spanking my ass again mid-thrust, the sting pushing me back onto his pistoning shaft.
I trembled, caught in the storm of humiliation—the way the room’s open door teased the risk of interruption, the reflections multiplying my degradation—but my body betrayed me, hips starting to rock back instinctively, chasing that twisted pleasure amid the invasion.
The old man’s grunts grew louder, his thick cock stretching me impossibly, veins pulsing against my walls as he hammered deeper. Sweat dripped from his brow onto my marked skin, and I felt every brutal inch owning me, the emotional weight crashing down: total submission, the exhibitionist thrill amplified by the mirrored voyeurism, my moans turning from pain to something needier.
He leaned in closer, breath hot on my ear, whispering more mockery about my tiny prick and how I’d beg for this forever, his pace unrelenting, driving us both toward whatever came next in this endless humiliation.
His fat cock stabbed into my guts, rearranging my insides with every vicious plunge, the pain a searing knot that twisted deeper with each slam. I hollered in anguish, my voice raw and breaking, futilely scrambling beneath him on the mat, my fingers clawing at the rough surface for any escape.
But I was completely trapped, his heavyset body pinning me like a vice, the weight of his hairy chest crushing against my back, sweat-slick skin sliding together in the humid studio air. We must have had the entire place to ourselves—no one bursting in to save me, though I’m sure my wails carried all the way out to the golf greens, echoing my total degradation for anyone who might hear.
His hands squeezed tight around my hips, fingers digging bruises into my flesh, hooking me onto his dick like a fish on a line. All I could do was holler, the sound tearing from my throat as he slammed his hips harder, pounding my guts with brutal, relentless force. Each thrust drove that thick, veined shaft balls-deep, his hairy scrotum slapping wetly against my shaven taint, the prickly warmth of his balls grinding into me.
The violation hit me like a wave—profoundly wrong, another man’s ugly, hard cock jammed so deep inside, plumbing depths I’d never imagined. Yet that twisted part of me, the exhibitionist streak that had started this whole mess in the shower, craved it. I wanted him to plunder me, to own every inch of my hole, the humiliation fueling a dark, filthy heat that made my body betray me.
“Yeah, go on and cry then, cry your eyes out,” he growled, his voice thick with cruel satisfaction, breath hot and rank against my ear. “This is all part of your lesson, boy. You’ve got to learn. You’ve got to learn that this is what happens to little public fappers like you. I’m doing this for your own good, boy.”
He poked deeper then, grinding his cockhead against some sensitive spot inside that sent a jolt through me, and I dropped my head into the mat, forehead pressing into the sweat-soaked fabric, muffling my sobs.
“Naughty little dick gooner boys get butt-fucked,” he snarled, bucking into me once more with a savage snap of his hips.
I gasped, shuddering violently, almost nauseated by the alien sensation of having my depths so thoroughly filled up back there. It felt like he was splitting me open, his girth stretching my ring to its limit, but the pain blurred into something else—a reluctant pleasure that made my toes curl.
He was fully inside me now, fully implanted, no space left between his groin and my reddened cheeks. I glanced up at our reflection, his wild eyes meeting mine, beaming with pride at having bottomed out, conquered me with his cock. His big, hairy nuts pressed right up against me, warm and heavy, a constant reminder of his total invasion.
I screamed again, writhing helplessly beneath the merciless cock thrusts, my body jerking with every pound, utterly trapped under his dominant bulk. He gripped my hips tighter, nails biting skin, grinding his soft belly and barrel chest against my inflamed ass, the coarse gray hair scraping like sandpaper over the welts from his spankings.
The mirrors captured it all—the way my lean, hairless frame trembled, ink-smeared insults like ‘GOONER SLUT’ glistening on my back, my tiny cock twitching and leaking pre-cum onto the mat below. Agony tore through me, but so did that filthy pleasure, a building ache in my balls that made me rock back instinctively, torn between the burn and the shameful need pulsing through my veins.
He began to thrust in and out with a steady, punishing rhythm, cooing with pleasure as he enjoyed the tight territory he’d excavated from my innards. With each stroke, his big belly and chest shook, jiggling obscenely against me, the slaps of flesh echoing in the empty studio. He jabbed in and out at different angles, opening me up further, claiming even more of my body, his cock dragging along my walls in ways that made stars burst behind my eyes.
I lowered my head again, exhausted—the sodomy stealing all my energy, all my power, leaving me a dazed, submissive shell. But when my head fell, he yanked me by the hair, forcing it up with a painful tug.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes. Don’t you dare look away,” he barked, his voice laced with mockery. “This is who you are. A butt-fucked public wanker. Just like your babydick faggot father and all the Johnson faggots that came before you. Never forget it.”
He slapped his hands over both sides of my face, boxing my ears with sharp smacks that rang in my skull, then grabbed my chin, forcing me to look. Our eyes met in the mirror—mine half-closed, dazed with pain and tears, his wild and gleeful, triumph gleaming in those savage depths. The humiliation crashed over me like a tide, my family’s name dragged through his filth, but it only made my cock throb harder, pre-cum dripping in steady strings.
“This is your lot in life, boy. Bending over and getting butt-fucked,” he panted between thrusts, his breath ragged with exertion. He mocked me loudly, leaning in to force my gaze to his, that wild, triumphant stare locking onto mine. “Completely fucked!”
To emphasize, he rammed his hips into me, slamming his belly into my back, driving all the way home with his rigid hog. I cried out, the sound high and broken, but I let myself get screwed, offering up my ass like the slut he’d made me. His fat cock stabbed into my guts again, the relentless pounding shaking my core, pain and pleasure twisting into a knot that had me moaning now, my body surrendering even as my mind reeled from the emotional onslaught—the voyeuristic thrill of the mirrors, the risk of exposure, all amplifying the raw intimacy of his cruel dominance.
His grip tightened in my hair, yanking my head back harder, forcing my eyes to stay locked on the mirror. I couldn’t look away from the savage scene unfolding—his thick, hairy body dominating mine, hips snapping forward with brutal thrusts that buried his fat cock deep into my ass. Each plunge stretched me wide, the veined shaft dragging along my inner walls, sending shocks of pain-laced pleasure ripping through me.
My lean frame jolted with every impact, my reddened cheeks jiggling from the force, the ink-scrawled insults on my skin glistening under the studio lights. ‘PUBLIC GOONING SLUT’ stared back at me from my back, a permanent reminder of how far I’d fallen, exposed and broken in this humid hell.
“Watch it, boy,” he snarled, his voice a gravelly rasp against my skin. “Watch how I own this tight little pussy. You’re nothing but my fuckmeat now.”
The words hit like slaps, humiliation flooding my chest, but my cock twitched harder beneath me, leaking pre-cum onto the mat in shameful betrayal. The mirrors amplified everything—the way his graying chest hair scraped my smooth back, his belly slapping wetly against my ass, the voyeuristic thrill of seeing my own degradation play out like a porn film. I was the star, the pathetic exhibitionist caught and claimed, my body on display for his leering gaze and whatever ghosts haunted this empty club.
He dragged his rough tongue up the side of my neck, hot and sloppy, tasting the salt of my sweat before latching on with his lips. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the tender flesh, marking me with a deep, wet hickey that bloomed purple under his mouth. The suction pulled a whimper from my throat, my body arching involuntarily into the bite. It burned, a possessive brand that screamed ownership, but the pain twisted into heat low in my gut.
“That’s right, wear my mark,” he murmured, breath foul and warm against the fresh bruise. “So everyone knows you’re a taken faggot. Your IT buddies will see it, laugh at the little slut who begged for cock in the showers.”
He slowed his pace then, the brutal pounding easing into deliberate, teasing strokes. His hooked cockhead nudged my prostate with every withdrawal and push, rubbing that swollen gland like he owned it, sending electric jolts straight to my balls. I gasped, then moaned like a desperate slut, the sound ripping from me unbidden—feminine, broken, nothing like the confident guy who’d strutted naked into the showers hours ago.
“Hear that? That’s you, boy. Moaning for big daddy’s dick,” he mocked, chuckling low as he ground deeper, circling his hips to torment that spot.
Pleasure built in waves, filthy and overwhelming, my untouched cock throbbing painfully, pre-cum pooling beneath me. The risk of it all—the door still cracked, the possibility of someone walking in to witness my humiliation—only heightened the rush, my exhibitionist heart pounding in sync with his teasing thrusts.
His free hand roamed my trembling body, possessive and unhurried, fingers tracing the lean muscles of my chest before pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp. He twisted them, rolling the sensitive buds between callused digits, then slid down to knead my flat belly, feeling the way it quivered under his touch.
“Look at this smooth little body,” he taunted, voice dripping with cruel affection. “All mine to play with. No hair, no fight—just a pretty fucktoy for old men like me.”
His palm flattened over my abs, pressing down to feel his own cock bulging inside me, the intimacy of it stealing my breath. Emotions churned—shame at how eagerly I leaned into his groping, arousal at the way he claimed every inch, the mirrors forcing me to watch his hands map my submission. He squeezed my sides, thumbs digging into my hips, pulling me back onto his shaft with each slow grind, turning my body into an extension of his lust.
I shuddered under his control, every nerve alight, fully transformed into his debased, submissive fucktoy. The pain from his earlier spankings throbbed in my ass cheeks, the hickey pulsed on my neck, and his cock filled me so completely that I felt remade—stretched, marked, owned.
In the shower, stroking my cock to fantasies of being caught, I’d never imagined it’d lead here—bent over, moaning like a whore as a heavyset stranger fondled me possessively, his teasing strokes building me toward an edge I couldn’t escape.
“Please,” I whispered, voice cracking, not even sure if I was begging him to stop or keep going.
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest into mine, and quickened just a fraction, his hand sliding up to grip my throat lightly, thumb stroking the hickey.
“Please, what, slut? You want more? Want me to fill this greedy pussy?” His words were a mix of taunt and promise, his body pressing closer, hairy skin enveloping my smooth one.
The studio air hung heavy with our sweat and musk, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out filling the space. I trembled harder, my cock aching for release, but he controlled that too, denying me with his sensual torment. The door creaked faintly in the breeze, a reminder of the public shame waiting outside, and part of me hoped someone would see—would witness how thoroughly I’d been broken, how the old man’s dominance had turned my twisted desires into reality.
His fingers tightened in my hair again, forcing my gaze back to the mirror, where our reflected forms moved in filthy harmony, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee as he prepared to push me further into the abyss.
His fingers released their grip on my throat, but he didn’t let go of control. Instead, he brought one hand to the top of my head, threading his big, rough fingers through my damp hair and clamping it into a tight fist. The pull yanked my scalp, a sharp sting that made me gasp, but it kept my eyes locked on the mirror. He picked up his pace then, hips snapping forward with brutal force, each thrust slamming his thick cock deep into my ass.
My body shook violently with every impact, the wet, obscene slap of his hairy belly against my reddened cheeks echoing in the stuffy studio. His veined shaft stretched me wide, bulldozing my guts, the hooked head scraping my inner walls in a way that blurred the line between agony and ecstasy. Sweat poured down my face, mixing with the tears I couldn’t hold back, my lean frame jolting like a ragdoll under his heavyset dominance.
“Fuck, yeah, take it,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest into my back.
The sound of our bodies colliding—wet flesh on flesh, his balls slapping my taint—filled the air, a filthy symphony that humiliated me even as it hardened my cock further. I was exposed in every sense, the mirrors turning this private violation into a public spectacle, my marked-up body on full display: ‘CUM DUMP’ scrawled across my ass cheeks, ‘OLD MAN’S BITCH’ inked on my lower back.
He leaned in closer, his stubbled chin scraping my neck as he licked a hot, sloppy trail up to my ear. His tongue invaded the shell, sucking the lobe between his teeth with a wet pop, then he blew a stream of hot, foul breath into it, making me shiver.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispered, his words filthy and intimate, twisting like a knife in my gut. “Drenched in sweat, trembling like a little sissy bitch. This cock’s ruining you, boy—turning that tight pussy into my personal cum sleeve. You’re mine now, forever craving old dick up your ass.”
The mockery hit deep, stirring the shame that pooled in my chest, but it only fueled the arousal throbbing in my untouched cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto the mat below. I watched us in the mirror, transfixed by the feverish scene. My face was flushed red, eyes glassy and wild, sweat soaking my hairless skin until I glistened like I’d been oiled for a porn shoot.
My body trembled uncontrollably, each brutal slam of his hips sending shockwaves through me, my lean muscles quivering under his assault. I looked destroyed—drunk on lust, feverish from the physiological hammer of his mammoth cock stabbing into me.
No one had ever impacted me like this, pounding away the confident guy who’d jerked off in the showers, replacing him with this submissive slut who craved degradation. Yet the arousal burned hotter than the pain, my ass clenching greedily around his shaft, milking him as if begging for more mockery, more invasion.
“You’re gonna be a sissy faggot for life,” he hissed into my ear, the words laced with cruel certainty, before he caught himself, pulling back from the edge.
He slowed his thrusts, the brutal rhythm easing into something more sensual, deliberate strokes that dragged his hooked cockhead over my prostate with teasing precision. Each rub sent electric jolts straight to my balls, building that filthy pleasure until I moaned—high-pitched, feminine, nothing like my own voice.
His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them behind my back as he rubbed up and down my arms, then over my shoulders, claiming every inch with possessive squeezes. He fondled my chest, thumbs circling my nipples before pinching hard, then slid down to feel up my belly and sides, his callused palms mapping my smooth, sweat-slick skin like I was his property.
The buzzing charge rippled wherever he touched, transforming me further under his sensual assault. It felt like he was rewriting me from the inside out—his great plowing prong turning my ass into a hungry receptacle for cock, converting my straight-laced life into one of debased submission. His tongue flicked my ear again, whispering more filth:
“Feel that, slut? That’s your prostate begging for daddy’s load. No more pretending you’re not a cockwhore.”
He’d already changed me—spanked me to tears, marked me with degrading ink, forced me to deepthroat his hairy balls—and now, in this slow grind, he owned my soul too. I whimpered, hips rocking back instinctively, torn between the pain of my stretched hole and the aching lust that made me want him to never stop.
He grasped my hair in his fist again, jerking my head up sharply to force my gaze on the mirror. My body shook with each renewed slam of his hips, the sensual tease giving way to harder thrusts that made my teeth clatter. He brought his slobbering mouth from my ear down to my neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh there.
He chewed and sucked, branding me with an enormous hickey that throbbed under his lips, a visible claim that would bruise for days. The pain bloomed hot and sharp, but I whimpered with twisted pleasure, my cock pulsing wildly, leaking more pre-cum as the humiliation washed over me.
“Mine,” he murmured against the mark, voice thick with possession. “All fucking mine.”
I was fully his now—his debased, submissive fucktoy, body and mind broken open for his use. The studio’s mirrors reflected it all: my tear-streaked face, his leering triumph, our sweat-drenched forms locked in filthy communion.
The door creaked again in the distance, a teasing reminder of the public shame lurking outside, and part of me hoped it would swing wide, letting the world see how thoroughly he’d claimed me. His pace quickened once more, cock swelling inside me, his breath ragged as he chased his release, fingers digging into my hips with bruising force.
The stream of vitriol devolved into guttural grunts he spat into my ear with every unforgiving thrust, his big, hairy balls slapping wetly against mine. He rutted like a wild animal—a rampant bull claiming its territory—and I could only brace on all fours, yielding my body to his insemination like some helpless heifer.
The studio mat stuck to my sweat-slick knees, the mirrors capturing every degrading angle of my submission, the door’s faint creak a constant tease that someone might burst in and witness my total ruin.
One meaty hand locked over my neck in a choking armbar, cutting off my air just enough to make stars dance in my vision, while the other—fresh from molesting my chest—snuck between my trembling legs and seized my swinging balls.
He squeezed my sack hard, pulsing it in his fist with rapid, vicious pumps, and each crush made my ass clench tighter around his invading cock, milking him involuntarily. He’d timed it perfectly, tormenting my nuts right as he dragged his thick shaft out after a deep plunge, the pain spiking my pleasure and making his prick throb harder inside me.
With every squeeze, he went tighter, crushing my balls until I gurgled in agony, my body teetering on the edge of annihilation. He’d release just enough for me to gasp, then clamp down harder, his fingers like a vice threatening to burst them.
I trusted his restraint on some desperate level, but in that haze of pain, it felt like he craved my full emasculation—to geld me, turn me into his perfect, barren mate. The logical end to his afternoon-long campaign of stripping my manhood: rut me senseless, flood my guts with his virile seed while shattering my useless nuts forever.
“Want me to do it, boy? Life might be easier for you as a eunuch,” he snarled, his breath hot and rank against my ear, voice laced with sadistic glee. “Hell, I’ve already ruined you. Stripped you of your manhood. Made you a faggot.”
His words burrowed deep, feeling like truth after the hours of humiliation—the spanking, the marking, the forced deepthroat. He’d reshaped me, body and soul, and as he bit into the other side of my neck, licking the salty sweat there before continuing, I believed it. The pain in my balls radiated up my spine, blending with the stretch of his cock pounding my prostate, arousal coiling tight despite the terror.
“Once is all it takes, boy. Oh yeah. Just one butt-fucking. Every man knows it. Take cock up the rear just once and lose your manhood forever. One big cock up your back door and you’re going to be a faggot for life. Forget a wife or a family. Your little dick won’t get hard for pussy anymore, boy—if it ever did. Your skinny little penis is gay now.”
He shook his squeezing fist, making my boner wiggle obscenely between my legs, the motion humiliating as it slapped against my thighs. Pre-cum flung off the tip, splattering the mat, my hairless body exposed and quivering under his assault. Shame burned my cheeks, but my cock pulsed harder, the mockery feeding the twisted lust he’d ignited.
“Understand?” he barked between thrusts, slapping my reddened ass cheek with his free hand, the sting reigniting the fire from earlier spankings as he pumped in and out of my hole.
I groaned, nodding frantically, my voice choked. “Yes, Sir!”
He twisted my ear roughly, yanking my head back. “Louder, faggot!”
“Yes, Sir! I’m a faggot now, Sir!” I yelled, my voice cracking high and broken, echoing off the mirrors like a confession to the empty club.
Satisfied, he wrenched his arm back further, lifting me up onto my knees while keeping me impaled on his throbbing cock. The new angle drove him deeper, my guts twisting around his girth as he seized my chubbed-up peter again, shaking it roughly like a defective toy.
“Look at this little pecker. This tiny little thing’s gotten you into so much trouble, huh? Is this little joke of a penis gay now, boy? Huh?!”
His forearm crushed my throat, air whistling past as he fiddled with my hard-on, all while pummeling my innards with his massive dick, the wet squelch of my ass taking him filling the room.
“Yes, Sir—it’s gay, Sir! My penis is gay, Sir!” I warbled desperately, clawing at his arm until he shoved me back down into the all-fours position, humping away at my backside with renewed fury.
He didn’t let up, railing me mercilessly as he forced the degrading phrases from my lips over and over: my penis was gay, I was a faggot for life. Each repetition felt like a binding curse, absurd playground taunts turned into a profane ritual under his control.
My shameful self-condemnations punctuated his brutal thrusts, the slam of his wide hips into mine jolting my body forward, my marked skin—’CUM DUMP,’ ‘OLD MAN’S BITCH’—stretching with every impact. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with sweat, but my cock leaked steadily, the emotional gut-punch of emasculation twisting into raw, aching arousal.
His squeezes on my balls grew more punishing, each one syncing with a deep, grinding thrust that made my vision blur. “Say it again, eunuch boy—beg me to crush these worthless nuts!” he demanded, his voice a gravelly command that vibrated through his chest into my back.
I gasped, choking out the words as ordered, my body a trembling mess of pain and need, fully lost in the torment. He lifted me slightly again, shaking my cock like a rag, his eyes boring into mine in the mirror’s reflection—triumphant, possessive.
“That’s right, submit to your ruined manhood. You’re nothing but my faggot hole now.”
The words sealed it, my confessions spilling out louder, the humiliation crashing over me in waves, even as his cock swelled thicker, promising more invasion, more breaking.
Then, he came.
His cock throbbed inside me, unloading rope after thick rope of hot cum, flooding my guts with his sticky load. I felt every pulse, the way his shaft swelled and jerked, pumping his seed deeper as he ground his hips harder against my ass. The warmth spread, coating my insides, marking me from the inside out.
Panic twisted in my chest—irrational, desperate thoughts racing through my mind. This was it, permanent. His sperm is swimming in me, claiming every inch, changing me forever. No going back from letting this brute inseminate me like some breeding sow. I was his now, body and soul, carrying his essence deep in my belly.
I moaned loudly, the sound ripping from my throat, raw and needy. My body betrayed me completely, pushing back against him, craving more of that brutal pounding. The pain from his earlier squeezes on my balls lingered, a dull ache that only heightened the filthy pleasure ripping through me.