Sweet, innocent-looking 19-year-old blond twink Jack is home alone when a crew of rough, sweaty construction workers arrives to build a new deck. What starts as harmless flirting quickly turns into something much filthier — all while Jack keeps that sweet, angelic smile.
Chapter 6: Thursday – The More the Merrier
The crew arrived Thursday morning acting like nothing unusual had ever happened.
Trucks rumbled up the driveway. Tools clattered. The eight men from before plus three new faces moved around the deck with forced professionalism. No one mentioned the cum-soaked sectional in the living room. No one looked at Jack when he stepped outside in his tiny white shorts again, barefoot, buzzed blond hair catching the sun.
Marco gave a curt nod. “Morning.”
Big Tommy just grunted and started unloading lumber. Derek looked particularly tense, avoiding eye contact entirely. Ethan---still sore and ashamed from yesterday---stayed close to the new guys, trying to act normal.
The three newcomers were immediately noticeable.
There was Vince, a stocky, loud-mouthed brute in his mid-40s with a thick neck and perpetual five-o’clock shadow. Then there was Carl---Ethan’s uncle---a lean, sharp-eyed man in his late 30s who always seemed to know too much. And finally, there was Ethan’s father, Richard---46 years old, broad-shouldered, hairy, and quiet, with the same brown hair as his son but streaked with gray.
Jack felt a spike of nervousness when he saw the new faces. Yesterday had been intense, but these were strangers. He stayed mostly inside the house, watching them through the window, heart beating fast. The tension in the air was thick. The men who had used him the past two days were stealing hungry glances toward the house but trying to play it cool in front of the newcomers.
Around 10:30 AM, Marco “needed” to check something inside. He slipped into the house alone.
Jack was in his bedroom, pretending to fold laundry. Marco closed the door behind him.
Jack bit his lip, those big blue eyes uncertain. “There’s new guys… I don’t know if—”
Marco stepped close and kissed him. Slow at first, then deeper. Jack melted after a few seconds, letting out a soft whimper as he kissed back. Marco’s big hands roamed down, squeezing Jack’s ass through the tiny shorts.
They moved to the bed. Marco pulled Jack’s shorts down and took his time---sucking the boy’s thick cock, licking his smooth hole, then sliding into him raw with long, deep strokes. Jack moaned sweetly, pushing back, starting to lose himself again.
They were right in the middle of it---Marco fucking Jack steadily on his back, both of them breathing hard---when the bedroom door opened.
Carl, Ethan’s uncle, walked in.
“What the—?!” Carl froze, eyes wide as he watched Marco’s thick cock sliding in and out of Jack’s stretched hole. At that exact moment, Marco groaned and started cumming---heavy, thick white ropes blasting deep into Jack’s guts, some of it already leaking out around his shaft.
Carl stood there for a long second, then backed out and closed the door.
He practically ran back outside.
“You guys are not gonna believe this,” Carl announced to the crew, voice tight with shock. “Marco’s inside… he’s balls-deep in the homeowner’s son right now. I just walked in on him unloading in the kid’s ass.”
The older men exchanged glances. Tank smirked. Big Tommy chuckled darkly.
Richard---Ethan’s father---looked stunned, but there was something else in his eyes. A spark of dark curiosity.
“So what do we do?” Carl asked, half-angry, half-aroused.
Tank grinned. “We join him, obviously.”
Ethan went pale. “Wait— no. Dad’s here. We can’t—”
But it was too late. The men started heading inside.
Jack was still on his back, cum leaking from his hole, when the rest of the crew filed into his bedroom. His eyes widened in panic at all the new faces.
Richard stared at the scene---his son Ethan standing awkwardly to the side, and the pretty blond boy covered in fresh cum.
The tension snapped.
Marco, still inside Jack, looked over at the group. “Well? You gonna stand there or help me wreck this boy properly?”
The floodgates opened again, but this time with completely new energy.
Vince, one of the new guys, was the most aggressive. He stripped fast and shoved his thick, veiny cock straight into Jack’s already sloppy mouth. “Been hearing about this little slut for two days. Time to see if the hype is real.”
Richard moved closer, eyes locked on Jack… and occasionally flicking to his own son. Carl kept shooting Ethan knowing, teasing looks.
“Careful, nephew,” Carl murmured just loud enough for Ethan to hear. “Wouldn’t want your old man finding out what kind of boy you really are.”
Ethan’s face burned with shame.
The fucking intensified. Jack was spooked at first by the new men, but the familiar cocks helped him relax. Soon he was moaning softly again, taking Vince deep in his throat while another man fucked his cum-filled boy cunt.
Ethan tried to stay back, but his father noticed.
Richard stepped over to his son, voice low. “You been hanging around these guys a lot lately, Ethan…”
Before Ethan could answer, Big Tommy pulled Jack off the bed and made him kneel. The men surrounded both boys. Jack started sucking cock eagerly again. Ethan held out for a few more minutes… until he saw his own father lean down and lick a thick rope of cum off Jack’s chest, then swallow it with obvious hunger.
That broke Ethan.
He dropped to his knees beside Jack. Richard’s eyes darkened with lust as he watched his son finally give in.
The afternoon turned into pure depravity. The men used both boys side by side and together---fucking their mouths, their asses, making them kiss each other with cum-covered tongues. Richard eventually fed his thick cock to his own son while staring at Jack, the forbidden lust burning in his eyes.
They wrecked Jack’s bed this time. Sweat, cum, and piss soaked the sheets. Multiple loads were pumped into both boys. Jack took it all with those soft, wondrous moans. Ethan, now fully broken in, moaned just as eagerly.
By the end of the day, both 19- and 20-year-old boys were glazed, gaping, and exhausted on Jack’s bed.
Marco looked down at them with satisfaction.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be even better.”
Jack smiled sweetly up at all of them, voice soft.
“…I hope so.”
Chapter 7: Thursday Night – Father and Son
The drive home was dead silent.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s truck, staring out the window. In the back seat, his uncle Carl was equally quiet. Richard gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. The cab still smelled faintly of sweat, cum, and sex from the long day at Jack’s house. No one said a word about it.
They pulled into the driveway of Richard’s modest two-story house just after 6 PM. The three of them walked inside like robots, kicking off their boots in the mudroom, filling the air with the musky stink of foot-sweat.
“Pizza tonight?” Richard asked gruffly, voice strained.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Carl muttered.
Ethan just nodded, avoiding eye contact with both of them.
Dinner was painfully normal. They ate pepperoni pizza at the kitchen table, talking about sports, the weather, and how the deck was coming along. Every sentence felt forced. Ethan’s ass still ached. He could feel dried cum in his crack every time he shifted in his chair. His dad kept glancing at him, then quickly looking away. Carl had a strange, knowing smirk he kept trying to hide.
After dinner they settled in the living room to watch a baseball game. The tension was suffocating. Ethan sat on the recliner, his dad on the couch, Carl sprawled in the other chair. No one mentioned Jack. No one mentioned what they had done to him---or what Ethan had done right alongside him.
Around 10:30 PM, Richard stood up. “I’m heading to bed. Long day tomorrow.”
“Night,” Ethan mumbled.
“Night,” Carl echoed.
The house grew quiet.
Ethan lay in his old bedroom, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. His body was sore, his mind racing. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his dad’s cock sliding into Jack’s mouth… and remembered how it felt and tasted in his own.
Around 2:17 AM, Ethan heard the soft creak of his bedroom door opening.
He sat up slightly. His dad stood in the doorway in just a pair of gray boxer briefs, silhouetted by the hallway light. Richard’s broad, hairy chest rose and fell heavily. He didn’t speak at first. He just stared at his son.
“Dad…?” Ethan whispered, voice shaky.
Richard stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly. “You?”
Ethan shook his head. The air felt electric.
They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.
“I saw how you looked at him,” Richard finally said, voice low. “At Jack. Today.”
Ethan’s face burned. “Dad, I—”
“And I saw how he looked at you.” Richard took another step closer. “You liked it.”
Ethan’s cock twitched traitorously under the sheets. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Richard sat on the edge of the bed. His hand rested on Ethan’s thigh. “Nothing’s wrong with you, son.”
The touch was electric. Ethan’s breath hitched.
What happened next was inevitable.
Richard leaned in and kissed his son---slow, hesitant at first, then deep and hungry. Ethan moaned into his father’s mouth, years of buried shame and lust exploding between them. They kissed like starving men, hands roaming over each other’s bodies.
Clothes came off fast. Richard pulled Ethan’s boxers down, revealing his hard cock. He stroked it reverently, then took his own son into his mouth, sucking him with surprising skill. Ethan gasped, fingers tangling in his dad’s hair.
“Fuck… Dad…”
Richard came up for air, eyes dark with lust. “Been wanting this for a long time.”
He flipped Ethan onto his stomach, spread his cheeks, and buried his face in his son’s still-sore, cum-leaking hole. Ethan moaned loudly into the pillow as his father ate him out, tasting the remnants of the other men.
Then Richard mounted him.
He pushed his thick, bare cock into his own son’s ass and started fucking him with long, powerful strokes. The bed creaked rhythmically as father and son fucked desperately, whispering filthy things to each other.
“You took so many loads today,” Richard growled. “My dirty boy…”
They went at it for hours---switching positions, sucking each other, kissing, grinding. Richard came deep inside Ethan twice. Ethan came on his father’s chest once, then again while riding him.
Around 5:30 AM, the bedroom door opened again.
Carl stood there in shock, eyes wide as he watched his brother balls-deep in his nephew.
“What the actual fuck…?” Carl whispered, horrified.
Richard didn’t stop thrusting. “Close the door, Carl.”
Carl hesitated, face burning with shame and sudden arousal. His cock hardened visibly in his boxers as he watched his brother fuck his own son.
“Jesus Christ…” he breathed, but he stepped inside and closed the door.
Carl joined them.
By morning the three of them were a tangled, sweaty mess on Ethan’s bed. Carl fucked his nephew while Richard fed his cock into Ethan’s mouth. They rotated constantly---father and son, brothers, all three together. Cum was pumped into mouths and asses. They kissed sloppily, tasting each other’s loads. The room reeked of incestuous sex.
At 7:15 AM they finally collapsed, exhausted.
Richard looked at the clock and groaned. “We have to be at the site in forty-five minutes.”
The three of them showered quickly together, dressed, and drove to Jack’s house in heavy silence once again.
Ethan sat in the back seat, sore, leaking, and dazed.
His dad glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a dark, satisfied look in his eyes.
None of them said a word the entire drive. But they all knew tonight would be the same.
Chapter 8: Friday – You’ll Do
The crew arrived Friday morning with a different kind of hunger.
They knew Jack was there. They knew Ethan was there. And after everything that had happened the last three days---especially the father-son depravity the night before---the men were no longer pretending to be ashamed. They were addicted.
Jack, however, was tired.
He had barely slept. His hole was swollen, puffy, and tender from taking load after load for three days in a row. When he heard the trucks pull up, he stayed in his bedroom with the door closed, curled up in bed wearing just a loose t-shirt and his tiny white shorts.
The men started “working” for about forty minutes. Then Marco gave the signal.
They came inside the house in a group, boots heavy on the floor.
“Where’s the pretty boy?” Tank called out loudly. “Jack? Come say hi.”
No answer.
Ethan was in the kitchen grabbing water. The moment he saw the whole crew filing in, his face went pale. He still hadn’t fully processed what had happened with his dad and uncle last night.
Richard---Ethan’s father---locked eyes with his son. There was a dark, possessive heat in his gaze now.
Marco grinned. “Ethan. You’ll do for starters.”
They swarmed the 20-year-old first.
Big Tommy grabbed Ethan from behind, pinning his arms while Tank and Steve yanked his work shorts down. Ethan’s cock was already half-hard from the tension.
“Guys, now? Really?” Ethan protested weakly.
But they didn’t care. Marco dropped to his knees and swallowed Ethan’s cock in one smooth motion while Derek shoved his tongue into the younger man’s ass. Ethan moaned despite himself, legs shaking.
Richard watched his son getting used, his own thick cock hardening rapidly in his pants.
They bent Ethan over the kitchen table and started fucking him---one after another, raw and aggressive. Vince (one of the newer guys) was especially brutal, pounding Ethan’s hole while calling him a “filthy little cocksucker just like his friend Jack.”
Ethan was moaning loudly, completely lost in it, when Marco finally looked toward the hallway.
“Where the fuck is Jack? Go get him.”
Two men went down the hall. They found Jack’s bedroom door locked.
“Jack,” Marco called through the door, voice deep and commanding. “Open up, boy.”
Jack raised his head off the pillow and groaned, “Ugh…hold on.”
The men couldn't wait another second.
Steve kicked the door open with one heavy boot. Jack yelped as they stepped inside. He tried to pull the blanket over himself, but Tank and Tommy grabbed him, lifting the 19-year-old out of bed and leading him down the hallway toward the living room.
“Again, guys? Is that deck ever gonna get built?” Jack protested, his voice soft and teasing, even as he yawned and rubbed his big blue eyes.
They shoved him onto the couch right next to where Ethan was currently getting railed by Richard.
The sight of Jack---still in those tiny white shorts, buzzed blond hair messy, looking sweet and vulnerable---made every man in the room throb.
Marco pulled Jack’s shorts down despite the boy’s weak resistance. His hole was visibly swollen and puffy, still leaking remnants from yesterday.
“Poor baby,” Marco murmured, not sounding sorry at all. “We’ll be gentle.”
They were not gentle.
While Ethan continued getting fucked beside him, the men descended on Jack. Kyle held Jack’s legs open while Marco slowly pushed back into his sore hole. Jack whimpered, biting his lip hard.
“It hurts a little…” he breathed, voice trembling with that wondrous, overwhelmed tone.
But his thick cock was rock hard and leaking.
They took turns on both boys for the rest of the morning and deep into the afternoon. Jack's interest in deck construction faded away as the familiar stretch and fullness returned. Soon he was moaning again, pushing back to meet the cocks destroying his sore hole, even as tears of overstimulation pricked his eyes.
Ethan and Jack ended up face-to-face on the couch, kissing sloppily while the rest of the crew took turns on them. Richard fucked his own son while watching Jack get pounded, then switched to Jack for a while, clearly obsessed.
By late afternoon both boys were completely wrecked again---holes gaping, bodies covered in multiple loads of thick cum, faces glazed, the entire living room reeking of sex.
Jack lay there panting, looking up at the men with exhausted but satisfied eyes.
Marco wiped sweat from his brow and smirked down at the two cum-drenched boys.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. You get the break you wanted. But next week we’re bringing even more guys.”
Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from moaning:
“…Okay.”
Chapter 9: Saturday – Brothers
Saturday brought no construction work. No trucks in the driveway. No excuse to be at Jack’s house.
Ethan, Carl, and Richard spent the day at Richard’s house, pretending everything was normal.
The guilt was thick in the air from the moment they woke up. They avoided eye contact during breakfast. Carl made coffee. Richard cooked eggs. Ethan sat at the table staring at his phone, his ass still sore and leaking from the previous days.
By mid-afternoon, Carl and Richard were alone in the living room while Ethan was upstairs taking a long shower. The two brothers sat on opposite ends of the couch, the TV playing some forgotten game.
Carl finally spoke, voice low and strained.
“What the fuck are we doing, Rich?”
Richard rubbed his face. “I know. I know it’s wrong.”
“We fucked your son,” Carl said, almost whispering. “We fucked my nephew. We turned that boy into a cumdump right alongside the homeowner’s kid. If anyone ever finds out…”
They sat in heavy silence for a long time, reviewing how it had spiraled.
“It started with Jack,” Richard said eventually. “That sweet little face. Those big innocent eyes. The way he looked at us in those tiny shorts… He seduced us. Made us lose control.”
Carl nodded slowly. “He seemed so fucking pure. Like he didn’t even know what he was doing. But the second we touched him… he took every cock like he was starving for it. That mouth. That tight little ass. The way he moaned so sweetly even when we were wrecking him.”
The more they talked about Jack, the thicker the air became.
Richard shifted on the couch. “His cum was so sweet compared to ours. Delicate. Almost innocent. And the way his hole clenched when we pumped load after load into him…”
Carl’s hand unconsciously adjusted the growing bulge in his shorts. A visible wet spot was forming where his cock was leaking.
Richard noticed. His eyes lingered on his brother’s crotch.
“You’re hard just talking about it,” Richard said quietly.
Carl flushed. “Fuck off. So are you.”
Richard looked down at his own tented shorts, then back at his brother. “What are you gonna do about that, Carl?”
Carl stared at him, stunned. “Rich… we can’t. You’re my brother.”
Richard moved closer on the couch, voice dropping. “We already crossed every line this week. What’s one more?”
It took time. Richard had to seduce his own brother---slow touches on the thigh, reminding him how good it felt to finally let go, how no one would ever know. Carl resisted, ashamed, but his cock kept throbbing.
Eventually Carl gave in.
The brothers finally unleashed decades of buried tension.
They kissed hard and sloppy, years of repression exploding between them. Clothes came off quickly. Richard dropped to his knees and took his brother’s thick, musky cock into his mouth, sucking greedily. The smell was intense---neither had showered properly after yesterday’s debauchery. The heavy, ripe scent of sweat, dried cum, and unwashed balls drove them both wild.
Carl groaned, gripping his brother’s hair. “Fuck… Rich… your mouth feels so good.”
They became beasts.
Richard bent Carl over the couch and ate his hairy, sweaty ass with savage hunger, tongue fucking deep into his brother’s hole. Carl moaned like a whore, pushing back. Then Richard mounted him---sliding his bare cock into his own brother and fucking him with raw, aggressive strokes. The wet slapping sounds and filthy grunts filled the living room.
They went at it for hours.
Carl fucked Richard next, pounding him into the couch while they kissed sloppily. They sucked each other’s cocks, 69’d on the floor, rimmed each other’s filthy holes, and swapped loads. Richard came deep in Carl’s ass, then Carl returned the favor, breeding his brother. They pissed on each other in the shower, then fucked again on the bathroom floor. Sweat, cum, and musk turned them feral.
By late afternoon they were spent---naked, cum-splattered, piss-soaked, and reeking---collapsed on the couch watching TV.
That’s when Ethan walked in.
He froze in the doorway, eyes wide with horror at the scene: his father and uncle naked, covered in drying cum and sweat, the room stinking of incestuous sex.
“What the fuck…?” Ethan whispered.
Richard and Carl looked at each other. A dark understanding passed between them.
They moved fast.
They grabbed Ethan, wrestling him down onto the couch. “No— Dad, stop! Uncle Carl— this is wrong!”
But he offered no struggle as they ripped his clothes off. Carl sat on Ethan’s face, grinding his sweaty, cum-leaking ass against his nephew’s mouth. “Lick it up, boy. Guess whose cum that is.”
Richard held Ethan’s legs open and started fucking him raw while Ethan whimpered. They spit-roasted him, then DP’d him brutally on the couch. Load after load was pumped down his throat and into his ass as he could only moan.
When they were finally finished, Ethan lay whimpering on the floor, leaking from both ends.
Carl stood up, wiped his cock on Ethan’s face, and left the room without a word.
Richard stayed.
He pulled his son into his arms gently, kissing his forehead. “Shhh, it’s okay, son. I’ve got you.”
Then, tenderly, Richard took Ethan’s cock into his mouth and sucked him lovingly until his son came down his throat. Richard kissed Ethan deeply, snowballing the fresh load between their tongues.
They collapsed together in a sweaty, cum-covered heap on the couch.
Richard stroked his son’s hair and whispered, “I love you, Ethan.”
Ethan, exhausted and broken, whispered back:
“I love you too, Dad.”
Chapter 10: Sunday – Open House
Jack woke up late on Sunday afternoon, still sticky and sore from the previous days.
The house was completely silent. His father wouldn’t be back for several more days. The living room and his bedroom still reeked of sex---dried cum, piss, sweat, and the heavy musk of eight working men. Jack lay in bed for a long time, gently fingering his swollen, puffy hole, feeling the remnants of multiple loads still inside him.
He was supposed to rest today.
Instead, something darker took over.
Around 3 PM, still naked and leaking, Jack opened Sniffies. His profile picture was innocent---just his sweet face and big blue eyes. In his bio he wrote simply:
**“19, blond, smooth, submissive. Parents away. Open house, door unlocked. Come keep me company.”**
He posted a few pictures: one of his thick cock, one of his pretty ass, and one of his angelic face.
Within minutes the messages flooded in.
Jack replied to the filthiest ones.
---
The first visitor arrived just after 7 PM.
The Truck Driver
A massive, hairy 48-year-old man named Hank who had been on the road for nine straight days. A thick gold wedding ring glinted on his left hand as he stepped into Jack’s bedroom. The stench hit like a physical wall: old sweat, stale piss, unwashed balls, and ass, all baked into his skin after nearly a week and a half without a proper shower. His gut hung heavily over his belt, his beard was unkempt and greasy, and his hands were filthy with road dirt.
Jack was already on his knees waiting in the middle of the room, big blue puppy-dog eyes looking up with soft, innocent wonder.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Hank growled, unzipping his jeans. His cock was thick, uncut, and rank. Jack whimpered softly as he took the filthy head into his mouth, tongue swirling around the pungent buildup. Hank grabbed the back of his head with one meaty hand and forced his cock deeper, balls slapping heavily against Jack’s chin. “That’s it, you little whore… suck it. My wife would kill me if she knew I was feeding this dirty dick to a boy like you.”
He face-fucked Jack brutally, hips snapping forward, making the blond gag and drool while he kept the boy’s nose buried in his sweaty, hairy crotch. The overwhelming musk of nine days on the road filled Jack’s lungs with every breath. Hank’s wedding ring dug into Jack’s scalp as he held him in place, grunting filth about how he was supposed to be driving home to his family but couldn’t resist the urge to stop when he saw Jack’s profile.
After several minutes of brutal throat-fucking, Hank pulled out, turned around, and dropped his jeans and underwear to his ankles. He flopped onto the bed on his back, lifted his legs high into the air, and yanked Jack forward by the hair, forcing the boy’s face between his massive, hairy asscheeks. “Eat it, boy. Clean my dirty ass.” Jack moaned sweetly and buried his tongue deep into the trucker’s sweaty, unwashed crack, licking and sucking at the rank, musky hole while Hank ground back against his face, grunting in satisfaction.
Hank finally stood up, spun Jack around, and shoved him face-down onto the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide. “On your knees. Boots first.” Jack obediently knelt and pulled off the trucker’s heavy, road-worn work boots, releasing a putrid stench cloud that immediately filled the room. Hank shoved one massive, socked foot into Jack’s face. “Now the socks.” Jack peeled the sweat-soaked socks off Hank’s huge feet, the fabric stiff and crusty, with a stink pouring off them that could peel the paint from a shithouse door. Hank immediately pressed both bare feet against Jack’s face, making the boy lick every inch---soles, arches, heels, and between each sweaty toe---while the trucker stroked his thick cock and watched with dark satisfaction.
Only after Jack had thoroughly cleaned both feet with his tongue did Hank yank him up, bend him over the bed, and slam his thick cock into the boy’s sore hole raw. He fucked like an animal---hard, sweaty, grunting---slapping Jack’s ass bright red while calling him a “greedy little road whore” and a “cum-hungry slut.” The wet, filthy sounds of his heavy balls slapping against Jack’s filled the room. “Ohh…ohh…oh yeah…harder…” the blond boy moaned.
Hank suddenly pulled out, spun Jack around, and shoved his cock straight back down the boy’s throat. “Taste your own ass on my dick, boy.” Jack moaned around the rank length, eyes watering but still soft and eager as he sucked his own juices off the trucker’s cock. Hank then flipped him onto his back, hooked Jack’s legs over his shoulders, and railed him missionary so he could stare down at the innocent face beneath him. “Look at those pretty eyes while I breed you,” he growled, pounding deep. He unloaded an enormous, thick, yellowish load deep inside Jack, roaring as he came. But he didn’t stop---he kept thrusting through his orgasm, pushing the massive load even deeper, using it as lube for another few minutes of savage fucking before finally pulling out.
Hank stood there for a second, breathing hard, staring at the cum pouring from Jack’s wrecked hole. Then, without another word, he zipped up and left, slamming the door behind him.
Jack stayed on the bed, hole leaking heavily, body trembling, already craving more.
---
The second visitor arrived around 9:30 PM. As he scurried to answer the door, Jack muttered to himself, “If this keeps up I might actually get some cardio today.”
The Auto Mechanic
A lanky 22-year-old named Dylan who had come straight from the shop. He was still wearing his oil-stained blue coveralls, the fabric dark with grease and old sweat. The sharp, chemical reek of petroleum and motor oil rolled off him in thick waves as he stepped inside, mixing with the heavy scent of cum already hanging in the air.
Jack was still on his knees in the middle of the room, cum from Hank still dripping down his creamy thighs.
Dylan’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Holy shit… you really meant it.” He didn’t even bother closing the door all the way. He unzipped his coveralls with one greasy hand, revealing a lean, wiry body and a long, veiny cock already rock-hard and twitching. “Wait… I know you. You bring your dad’s truck in for oil changes sometimes. Always so quiet and polite… looking like a fucking angel. Never would’ve guessed you were secretly such a nasty little cum-slut.”
Jack blushed sweetly, big blue puppy-dog eyes looking up with soft wonder as the strong smell of grease and sweat washed over him.
“You remember me?” He was flattered at the thought.
Dylan stepped closer, grabbing Jack’s head and shoving his cock straight down the boy’s throat in one smooth motion. Jack gagged happily, eyes watering as Dylan fucked his face with short, eager thrusts, the oil on his hands smearing across Jack’s buzzed blond hair. “Fuck, you’re even prettier up close,” Dylan groaned, hips snapping forward. “All those times I jerked off in the bathroom after you left the shop… and now here you are, throat full of my dirty dick.”
He face-fucked Jack for several long minutes, then suddenly pulled out, spun the boy around, and bent him over the bed. He slid into Jack’s already sloppy hole in one quick thrust, groaning at the wet, cum-filled heat. “Goddamn… you’re already so full.” Dylan fucked him hard and fast, the sharp chemical smell of petroleum mixing with the heavy scent of the loads already inside Jack. He reached around and jerked Jack’s thick cock while he railed him, talking dirty the whole time about how he used to fantasize about bending the “sweet, innocent” boy over the hood of a car.
They took a brief break when Dylan pulled out and flipped Jack onto his back. For a moment they just stared at each other---Dylan’s lean, grease-streaked body hovering over Jack’s smooth, cum-glazed one. Then Dylan leaned down and kissed him softly, almost tenderly, their tongues sliding together as Jack wrapped his arms around the mechanic’s neck. “You really are so beautiful,” Dylan whispered against his lips. “Too fucking beautiful to be this filthy.”
The tenderness didn’t last long.
Dylan climbed onto the bed and pulled Jack into a sixty-nine, mechanic on top, his oil-stained body pressing Jack down into the mattress. They sucked each other greedily---Dylan’s long cock sliding deep into Jack’s throat while Jack eagerly devoured the mechanic’s sweaty balls and shaft. They rolled onto their sides, still locked in the sixty-nine, bodies pressed tight as they moaned into each other.
Jack came first, shooting thick ropes across Dylan’s face and in his mouth while the mechanic kept sucking him through it. Dylan groaned around Jack’s cock as he savored the taste of the angelic blond's cum, then pulled off and painted the boy’s face with his own hot load.
But Dylan still wasn’t finished. He pushed Jack onto his back, straddled his chest, and aimed his cock at the blond’s face. A strong, golden stream of piss splashed across Jack’s pretty features, filling his open mouth and running down his neck and chest. Jack moaned softly, swallowing what he could while the rest soaked him.
Finally Dylan climbed higher, turned around, and slowly sat down on Jack’s still-hard cock. He rode the boy reverse-cowgirl, grinding and bouncing while Jack whimpered beneath him, hands gripping the mechanic’s lean hips. Dylan reached back and spread his own ass so Jack could watch his cock disappearing inside him, then leaned forward and took Jack’s cock even deeper.
When Dylan was ready to cum he climbed off Jack's cock, straddled his chest, took the blond boy's head in his hand, and fired jet after jet between his thick pink lips. For several moments he stared mesmerized as Jack savored his huge load, then he wiped his spent dick across Jack’s lips, leaned down for one last filthy kiss, and stood up to zip his coveralls.
“See you around the shop, angel,” he whispered with a smile, and left Jack leaking and smiling wistfully on the bed.
Before long he was craving the next visitor.
---
While he waited for the next Sniffies ping, Jack lay back and scrolled TikTok, chuckling loudly at videos of people completely failing at simple tasks---he found one with college students attempting a TikTok dance and tripping over each other particularly hilarious.
His third visitor finally arrived just after midnight.
Coach Harlan
Jack’s old high school gym teacher. 44 years old, still muscular and powerfully built, with a thick, hairy chest and a deep, commanding voice. He had coached Jack for three years and had no idea the sweet, quiet boy he remembered had grown into this.
When Jack opened the door naked, covered in dried cum, with a freshly fucked hole still leaking down his creamy thighs, Coach Harlan’s eyes widened in pure shock.
“Jesus Christ… Jack Thompson?”
Jack blushed sweetly, big blue puppy-dog eyes looking up with soft innocence. “Hi Coach.”
The coach tried to leave twice. He turned around on the porch the first time, muttering “This is wrong,” under his breath. He made it halfway down the walkway the second time before he stopped, shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. Both times he failed. Something stronger than guilt pulled him back.
Once inside, the years of repressed lust came pouring out like a dam breaking.
Coach Harlan grabbed Jack by the waist and threw him over the back of the couch, yanking those smooth legs apart. He dropped to his knees and buried his face between Jack’s cheeks, eating his ass like a starving man. His thick tongue pushed deep into the mix of previous loads, lapping and sucking greedily while he groaned loudly. “Fuck… I used to jerk off in the locker room showers thinking about you, kid. Every single practice. You have no idea how many times I imagined this tight little hole.”
Jack whimpered sweetly, pushing back against the coach’s hungry mouth, his big blue eyes half-lidded in pleasure.
Coach Harlan stood up, cock rock-hard and throbbing, and slammed into Jack with one powerful, athletic thrust. He fucked the boy with long, brutal strokes, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the couch creak. “That’s it, my star pupil,” he growled, voice deep and rough. “Take Coach’s cock. This is the best fucking ass I’ve ever had.” He slapped Jack’s cheeks red, gripping the soft flesh hard while he railed him senseless.
Midway through the pounding, Coach Harlan reached into his gym bag and pulled out a well-worn jockstrap---stiff, yellowed, and covered in hundreds of blotchy, dried cumstains from years of use. He grabbed Jack by the back of the head and shoved the filthy cumrag right into the boy’s face. “Smell that, kid. I keep this in my office and unload into it after every game while I sit there breathing in the sweaty stink still lingering in the locker room. That’s how much I’ve been thinking about you.”
Jack huffed the rank, crusty jockstrap deeply, eyes rolling back as the heavy, stale scent of old cum and locker-room sweat filled his lungs. He came instantly without touching himself, thick ropes shooting across his own chest and stomach while he moaned into the filthy fabric.
Coach Harlan scooped up some of Jack’s fresh cum with two fingers and smeared it onto the already-stained jockstrap, then licked his spermy fingers clean with a filthy groan. “Good boy.”
He made Jack ride him next, gripping the boy’s narrow hips and slamming him down onto his thick cock over and over. Jack moaned sweetly the whole time, rolling his hips like a pro, his massive cock bouncing between them. Coach Harlan then bent him over the couch again, pounding him from behind while making Jack reach back and spread his own asscheeks wider.
After flooding Jack’s guts with one of the biggest, thickest loads of the night, Coach Harlan pulled out, shoved his cum-covered cock straight down the boy’s throat, and made him taste the filthy mess he’d left behind.
“Clean it up, slut. Taste what Coach just pumped into you.” He face-fucked Jack until he was gagging and drooling, then bent him over once more and bred him a second time, even harder than the first, calling him every filthy name he could think of while slapping his ass bright red.
By the time Coach Harlan finally stumbled out the door, Jack’s hole was leaking yet another heavy load and his cheeks were bright red and stinging from the spanking. The coach looked back one last time, face flushed with shame and satisfaction, before disappearing into the night.
---
The final visitor arrived at 2:17 AM.
Uncle Greg
Jack’s father’s younger brother, 41 years old, married, two kids. He had seen his nephew's profile on Sniffies and had to see for himself if it were true.
When Jack opened the door naked, covered in dried cum, with a freshly fucked hole still leaking down his creamy thighs, Greg’s mouth dropped open.
“Jack… so it's true?" he gasped, barely able to contain his excitement.
Jack looked up at his uncle with those big blue eyes, voice soft and trembling. “I’ve been bad, Uncle Greg… Really bad.”
Greg tried to leave. He made it as far as the porch before he turned around, stepped back inside, and slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.
What followed was the most intense encounter of the night.
Greg grabbed Jack by the back of the neck and dragged him straight to his father's bedroom, practically throwing the smaller boy onto the king-sized bed. Rage, shame, and overwhelming lust warred across his face as he stripped off his clothes. His wedding ring flashed in the low light as he climbed on top of his nephew.
“You little fucking slut,” Greg snarled, voice shaking. “Your own uncle? You'd fuck your own uncle? After everything your father has done for you?” He shoved Jack’s legs apart and slammed into him raw in one brutal thrust. Thick globs of the previous visitors’ cum immediately squirted out around his cock and ran down Jack’s creamy thighs in messy streams. “Look at this wrecked hole… you’ve been taking load after load all night, haven’t you?”
Jack whimpered sweetly, big blue eyes wide and innocent even as his uncle pounded him mercilessly. “I’m sorry, Uncle Greg… I couldn’t help it…”
Greg fucked him like he was punishing him, hips snapping forward with angry, powerful strokes. The bed creaked violently beneath them. He called Jack every filthy name he could think of---“whore,” “cumdump,” “family cockslut”---while gripping the boy’s narrow hips hard enough to leave marks. Every deep thrust forced more of the earlier loads to squirt obscenely out of Jack’s stretched hole.
As the brutal fucking continued, Greg pulled out suddenly, scooped up a thick handful of the mixed cum leaking from Jack’s gaping hole, and used it as the only lube. He pressed three fingers into the boy, then four, then slowly worked his entire fist inside Jack’s wrecked ass. Jack cried out, body shaking, as his uncle’s thick hand sank deeper, fisting him with slow, punishing strokes while using only the sperm already inside him as slick.
Greg leaned down close, voice low and cruel. “You look so much like my own son… same age, same pretty face, same hot little body. Except his sweet ass is still tight because he doesn’t whore it out like you do.”
After several long minutes of fisting, Greg pulled his hand free with a wet pop and slammed his cock back inside, using the loosened, cum-filled hole even harder. After several minutes of brutal fucking, Greg flipped them over so Jack was riding him. “Ride it, you little whore. Show your uncle how well you’ve been trained.” Jack obeyed instantly, rolling his hips and bouncing on his uncle’s thick cock with eager, practiced movements. Greg’s wedding ring dug into Jack’s soft skin as he gripped the boy’s waist, forcing him down harder.
Then Greg pulled Jack forward and made him sit on his face. Jack lowered his cum-leaking hole onto his uncle’s mouth, moaning softly as Greg ate him out with savage hunger, tongue pushing deep to taste the mix of strangers’ loads still inside his nephew. Jack ground down, whimpering sweetly while Greg devoured him.
Finally Greg flipped Jack onto his back again, hooked the boy’s legs over his shoulders, and kissed him like a forbidden lover---deep, desperate, and hungry. Their tongues slid together as Greg bred him with long, powerful strokes. “You’re going to take every drop of your uncle’s cum,” he growled against Jack’s mouth. He came hard the first time, flooding Jack’s guts with thick, hot ropes while they kissed.
But Greg wasn’t done. He kept fucking through his orgasm, using the fresh load as extra lube, pounding Jack even harder until he unloaded a second massive load deep inside his nephew’s womb.
When Greg finally pulled out, a heavy flood of cum poured from Jack’s gaping hole onto the sheets. Greg stared down at the mess he’d made, chest heaving, face flushed with shame and satisfaction. Then he leaned down, buried his face between Jack’s spread cheeks, and felched his own thick sperm out of his nephew’s raw, wrecked ass. He gathered the creamy load in his mouth, moved up, and pressed his lips hard against Jack’s. They kissed deeply, passing the warm, sticky cum back and forth between their tongues in long, filthy strings until both their mouths were coated and it dripped down their chins.
“You've always been my favorite nephew.”
---
The open house lasted until dawn.
By the time the sun came up, Jack was lying in the middle of his destroyed bed---a complete wreck. His hole was a gaping, cum-flooded ruin. His face, chest, and stomach were glazed with layer after layer of dried and fresh sperm. The entire house smelled like a brothel.
Jack stared at the ceiling, gently rubbing his belly, feeling the weight of all the loads inside him.