Tell Sir to fuck him good, Miss.

The implications of those words sent to his phone from Beth were still making their way through Ben’s brain as his university tutor’s husband dropped his business trousers to reveal navy briefs, bulging at the crotch.

“Do you know what the rule is when Smita picks a new fucktoy?” the older man asked while his audience focused on the dark, damp patch visible where the head of his dick was plainly discernible.

“MmmMmm.” Ben shook his head and mumbled through the knickers stuffed in his mouth, mounting dread and excitement making his cock twitch already as the distance between them closed.

“I’m not allowed to cum until we meet them,” he said, as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “but I have to get close twice a day. Twice a day! Want to know how distracted I’ve been?”

“Mmmff?” Patrick had bent down so Ben could smell the cigarettes on his breath and see the individual hairs of his stubble.

“I forgot to pack clean underpants for the conference,” he confessed quietly. “I’ve been wearing these for three days, and all I’ve been able to think about is your young cock pounding my wife’s pussy, and it’s made them a little... dirty. See?”

He yanked Ben by the hair into his crotch. The aroma of sweet, manly crotch sweat and precum, mixed with the faint hint of pee, filled his nostrils, complementing the tang of the wife’s pussy juice on his tongue.

“Smells good, yeah?”

“MmmmHmmm.” It did, he had to admit.

“Here,” Patrick pushed his pants halfway down and pulled the soggy lace from Ben’s mouth, then squashed his face between his thighs. “Taste how much I liked watching you fuck my wife.”

Ben licked at the sticky residue of the other man’s precum, his nose stretching the fabric that had been soaking up the sweat between his legs for seventy-two hours.

“This is a great fucktoy you brought home this time, Smita,” Ben heard him say to his wife. “How far do you think he’ll go?”

“Oh, I think he’ll go as far as you like. Beth said that deep down, he’s a total cock-slut.”

“Is that right, boy?” Patrick pulled him by his hair again to look at his face, burning with humiliation. “Are you really a cock-hungry boy-whore as well as a cunt-hungry boy-slut?”

“No, Sir,” Ben replied meekly, his mind in turmoil. “I’ve never—”

“You calling my favourite fuckslut a liar? Because I hate boys who talk shit about their exes.”

“Your favourite fuckslut?” The confirmation of his suspicions from the message made him forget the correct form of address. A hard smack on his behind from Smita gave him a painful reminder.

“Learning that your ex is a total whore is no excuse to be rude,” she scolded.

“Sorry, Miss. Sorry, Sir. But I’ve never, er, you know, with a man...”

“But you have a large, not very well hidden video collection on your laptop, don’t you?” Her question was clearly rhetorical.

“How—? Oh. Beth.”

“Yes. Beth. You’re very lucky to have had a girlfriend like her, aren’t you? Many would just talk shit behind your back instead of recommending you as a potential fucktoy.” Ben just stared at her open-mouthed. “Well? Say it.”

“I-I’m very lucky, Miss.”

“So, boy, what are you?” Patrick turned his head back to him, squeezing his cheeks to push his lips out like a cartoon duck. Ben gulped and once more considered asking for it to end. Maybe Rincewind wasn’t so daft to run from adventure, he thought, returning once more to his talk with Smita barely an hour earlier. But his stirring cock made the decision for him.

“I’m... I’m a cock-hungry boy-whore, Sir.”

“Good. Clean my cock then, boy-whore.” The little inflection the Midlands’ accent gave to the word “whore” made it sound soft yet so dirty. “Lick up the mess that you made it leak.”

Ben looked at the pale, soft flesh level with his nose, just aroused enough for the dome to have emerged from the foreskin. A dew-like drop of fresh precum clung to the tiny opening, surrounded by earlier excrescences that ranged from sticky to dried and flaking. Doing his best to focus on the feelings of lust rather than disgust, he leaned forwards and tasted the salty pearl, letting it spread over his tongue.

Inhaling the delicious aroma of cock, he moved closer, lips brushing the warm skin. He opened them and took the tip in, licking the salty-sweet residue and trying to ignore the sensation of the dried bits detaching and floating in his saliva. Opening wide, he leant forward to engulf the whole length, lips touching the coarse hairs at the base. His tongue pushed the soft flesh against the roof of his mouth, and he could feel the blood pulsing in and swelling as he sucked on it hungrily. Patrick pulled him back, saliva trailing from the tip as it flopped out.

“Greedy little boy-slut, aren’t you? You want to do more than just lick, do you? You’d better ask nicely.”

“Please, Sir, may I?”

“May you what?”

“May I suck your cock, Sir?”

“You want this, do you?” He wiped his wet, half-swollen member on the younger man’s face, leaving snail trails of spit. Ben opened his mouth eagerly, but he kept teasing him, tapping his nose and lips with it.

“Please, Sir! I want to make it up to you for cumming in your wife’s pussy.”

“Yeah? Here!”

With a thrust of his hips, he pushed his dick into the waiting hole, Ben making a gagging sound but closing his lips around it. Held with his face crushed into the yielding, hairy stomach that bulged above his crotch, he spluttered, trying to breathe through narrowed nostrils whilst simultaneously suck on the growing length pressing against his throat. He wiggled his tongue along the underside and tried to pull back, but Patrick held him there.

When he was finally allowed to pull back, he coughed, spraying spit that splattered onto his own hard cock and legs. Not giving up yet, though, he kept sucking, bobbing and twisting his head on the hardening rod. Another enforced gagging moment pushed the head right into the back of his throat and brought tears to his eyes before he had the opportunity to gasp for air.

“You have such a nice cock, Sir,” he said as the strands connecting his lips to their erstwhile invader broke to dangle from the tip, bubbles sliding slowly from his chin.

“Oooh, you look gorgeous!” Smita said, coming closer with the camera. “Suck that cock one more time for me.”

Obeying, he gathered the saliva hanging from her husband’s hairy balls, looking straight at the camera as he licked up the length of the shaft and took it back in his mouth. His attempt at a slow and sensual blowjob was cut short, not by Patrick this time, but by his wife placing one hand behind his head and pushing until his nose was pressed flat in a nest of pubic hair. With his hair as a handle, she fucked her husband with his mouth, producing an obscene squelching sound. When she finally pulled him off, throat mucus coated the shaft from tip to base.

“What a good little boy-slut!” Smita crooned, patting his hair as he coughed and gathered himself. “Do you like being used like a whore?”

“Yes,” he gasped when she pulled him up more forcefully. “Yes, Miss. I love being used like a whore.”

“Hear that, Patrick? He loves it!”

“Oh, I heard.” He slapped his slimy dick across Ben’s tear-streaked cheeks a few times. “But a real whore has more than one fuckhole. Are you a real boy-whore?”

By now, Ben had let go completely, so his answer came naturally. He’d fantasised about it so many times, albeit with hot young studs as his partners rather than beefy, balding fifty-year-olds. “Yes, Sir. I’m a real boy-whore. Please fuck my other fuckhole, Sir.”

“Fast learner. Get on the bed.”

Stumbling a bit due to his arms still being tied behind his back, Ben stood and climbed onto the bed on his knees, then Patrick pushed him down, pressing his face into the damp patch that still smelled of his own and Smita’s cum. The latter retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table drawer and passed it to her husband. He poured a generous serve down Ben’s crack, spreading it around with his fingers, eliciting a moan whenever he passed over his ring.

“Oh, you like that, do you, slut?” Patrick asked, fingers circling Ben’s star. He hesitated so received another slap on the butt cheek. “Answer!”

“Yes, Sir, I like it.”

“How about now?” He pushed a finger inside. “Is this enough?”

“Mmm, more please, Sir.”

“Like this?” he teased, inserting a second finger but holding it still. Ben pushed back with his hips but received another spank. “You need to ask for it, boy.”

“Please fuck me, Sir.”

“You really are a slut, aren’t you? I think you should say it to the camera,” Smita said and focused on his face. “What are you?”

“I’m a filthy little boy-slut, Miss,” Ben stuttered, going red with embarrassment but loving it at the same time.

“And what do you want right now, little boy-slut?”

“I... I want your husband to fuck me like a whore.”

Ben’s cock jumped with the filth spewing from his mouth.

“Oh, such dirty words coming out of your mouth. I think we might need to put the gag in it again.”

“One more thing before you do, love,” Patrick said to his wife as she reached for her soggy panties on the floor. “Remind me, Ben, did you use a condom when you fucked Smita?”

“No, Sir,” Ben replied, butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach as the implications clicked immediately.

“Do you think I should use one to fuck you, then?”

“No, Sir. That would not be fair.”

“And where did you cum?”

“In her pussy, Sir.”

“So, where do you think I should cum?”

“In my arse, Sir. Please, Sir, fill me like the filthy cum-sl—mmff mmmff mfff mfff!” His last words were cut off by Smita shoving her knickers between his lips again. To keep them in place, she stuck Patrick’s briefs over his head through the leg hole so that his mouth was full of her cunt taste and his nose full of her husband’s ball sweat and piss droplets.

“Dirty boy,” she said. “And to think you kissed my cunt with that mouth!” She giggled.

Patrick slapped his cock on Ben’s entrance a few times, then rubbed it between his cheeks, getting it hard again. Without warning, rammed it inside, achieving a muffled squeal from the newly deflowered anal virgin. He paused to let him adjust. Ben moaned and bit down on the undies in his mouth, the pain of the sudden stretch flooding his brain with endorphins, then it faded. When he squeezed his muscles around the invader, Patrick took it as a signal to begin thrusting, his thighs crashing into the back of Ben’s with loud slaps. Every so often, he would give one or the other buttock a light spank, making the younger man jerk and tense his bound hands, but he kept pushing his hips back for more.

Smita moved around the back, urging them on with cooing calls of “Yeah, fuck that boy-slut!” and, “Take my husband’s big cock!” Knowing what her man liked to watch later, she spent some time focusing on his saggy behind tensing with each entry and then relaxing with a slight wobble with every exit, the blemishes of age in his skin contrasting perversely with the youthful glow of the man he was using. He raised one leg up for greater leverage and to give her a better view of his dick plunging into Ben’s tight arse, setting the bed to bang against the wall. His fucktoy tightened his buttocks to give a firmer grip, clearly loving his pounding. Though his cock had softened, it was leaking clear precum, flicking it everywhere with each shuddering slam of the bigger man’s body into his.

Still holding the camera, Smita sat on the pillows in front of Ben. Dipping one brown finger in her pink slit, she spread her juices around as she watched her husband fuck a man who was not even born when they married. Patrick smiled at her, loving how much this was turning her on — he knew the memories of this day would fuel some great sex together for months to come.

“Would you like our little cum-slut to help you, love?” he asked. “He’s a greedy, vulgar young man, but he won’t be able to talk with a mouthful of pussy.”

“Good idea, love,” she said. “You might need to untie him, though — I wouldn’t want him to suffocate in my cunt.”

Ramming deep inside Ben, Patrick stopped for a moment to remove the bonds from his arms. They flopped onto the bed, sore for being held in that uncomfortable position for so long, but Ben managed to raise himself up on his elbows to allow Smita to remove his make-shift panty gag.

“So, little boy-slut,” she said, getting comfortable in front of him, “was this a price worth paying to fuck your professor?”

“Yes, Miss,” he gasped as Patrick resumed thrusting, albeit slowly.

“Would you like another taste of me?”

“Yes please, Miss,” Ben said, pre-empting the demand to beg he assumed was coming. “Please let me eat your pussy; it tastes so good!”

“Mmmmm,” she said, stroking his cheek tenderly, “you are a good little fucktoy.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair with her free hand and shoved him into her black curls. He could still taste himself when his tongue snaked between her lips. Finesse in cunnilingus technique became impossible with the ferocious way Patrick was pounding his arse, so instead he opted for lapping and sucking at whatever he could and letting the vibrations of his fucking transfer through to Smita’s body. From the sounds she was making and the way she ground herself up against his mouth, it appeared this was adequate, so he held on to her waist for dear life and enjoyed the ride. Above him, the husband and wife team kissed passionately, enjoying watching the pleasure they were each getting from their fucktoy.

“Fingers too, Ben,” Smita said, feeling herself getting close. He managed to bring his hand around and slot three fingers in under his chin, burying them to the knuckles with no difficulty. She immediately began bucking and humping his face, then suddenly arched her back and cried out, squirting all over his face. He lapped it up thirstily, rubbing his lips over hers and moaning with every slam of her husband’s cock in his arse until it finally became too much for her, and she closed her thighs, rolling out of the way.

“Lie on your back,” Patrick ordered, pulling out. “I want to taste my wife on you.”

Ben complied, bring his knees to his chest, his sticky cock slapping down on his stomach while the bigger man lay on top of him, pinning his hands above his head. He aligned his cock with Ben’s star and rammed it home, making him cry out, then muffled his further cries with his mouth, tonguing him as he fucked him. Ben’s legs waved helplessly in the air until he locked his ankles together and pulled himself up to meet the aggressive thrusts, the bed slamming noisily again. Smita came to sit next to his head and took over the restraining of his arms by sitting on them. Her husband kissed her, and she reached between their bodies to grab Ben’s sticky cock and work it with her hand.

“Where should I cum again, slut?”

“In me, Sir!” Ben didn’t have to pretend anymore — he wanted it for real. “Fill me with your cum like I filled your wife!”

Patrick gave a sudden growl and slammed in harder, rocking the whole bed.

“Oh, yes!” he gasped, breaking the dominant character as he came. Ben felt the heat inside as he was filled with hot spunk. Another couple of shuddering thrusts and then he withdrew, sucking cum out with him, and pulled Ben’s head to him.

“Clean, you dirty whore!” Ben, too horny to care, wrapped his lips around his cock and slurped the cum and arse essence while Smita bent down and sucked on his.

The moment he was hard, she climbed aboard and slid his hard dick inside while her husband’s softening cock was still in his mouth. He could feel cum leaking from his still winking hole underneath as she started to ride him, bouncing up and down vigorously. When his sticky oral treat was withdrawn, he brought his hands to her hips and thrust up to meet her, watching his pink rod disappear and reappear from her darker lips. He reached up for her breasts, reveling in their softness and thumbing her hard nipples until Patrick helped him up to a sitting position.

“Suck on them,” he instructed. “She loves it!”

She certainly did, crying out in delight from her fucktoy tonguing and suckling at them. It was too much psychologically for Ben, however, and he came, ejaculating deep inside his professor. She rode it out, getting as close as she could, feeling his hardness pulsing inside her and mashing her clit hard into the curls above his cock. As soon as he started to soften, she pushed him back down and scooted forwards onto his face, keeping her fingers over her hole to stop his cream from dripping out.

“Lick it out again boy-slut!” she gasped, pulling her hands away to drip semen on his chin. “Lick me to orgasm!”

Ben gripped her arse and locked his mouth to her cunt, sucking and licking despite the creeping shame, disgust and humiliation that was coming to the forefront now he had climaxed for the second time. Patrick knelt by his head, limp dick dangling nearby, and the older couple kissed passionately above him while he dutifully brought the wife to her climax.

Finally, she became too sensitive and clambered off him, leaving him panting and staring at the bland ceiling while they continued their loving petting beside him, ignoring him. The stench of three people’s cum and sweat filled the room, and he felt sticky all over. Tentatively scraping miscellaneous bodily fluid from around his mouth and forcing himself to lick it, he shuddered with a confusion of feelings. He felt used and defiled, but loved it.

Eventually, he found the strength to sit up and peeled his bottom from the puddle of spunk that had escaped his arse.

“Um, Sir, Miss?” he began.

“Yes, slut?” Smita replied, breaking her kiss with her husband reluctantly.

“Could I shower, please, Miss?”

“Shower? No, not yet. You need to clean that mess you left on our sheets first. And then send a thank you message to Beth.”

Ignoring his gaping mouth, she turned back to the arms of her husband. Ben stared at them for a while, soft mature bodies squishing together as they enveloped each other in the kind of embrace only decades of love could make possible. With a melancholy sigh, he picked up his phone, hesitating only a moment before adding “Thank you xx” under the photo of himself getting reamed by Patrick, and tapped send.

At least I know I’m not Rincewind, he thought as he bent to put his tongue to work on the sheets once more.

Before he had even made contact with the cotton, his phone pinged again, and he reached to read Beth’s gloating.

I knew you'd make a cute boy-bitch. See you tonight! xxx

“Tonight?!”