7 Lives Xposed - Episode 13

The room grew hotter as Devinn's friends digested what had spilled out of him. One confession hit the floor, then another, each word pulling pants down another notch. Bodies crowded the couch, skin sliding against skin. Mouths crashed into open mouths, tongues pushing deep. Someone's hand found Devinn's cock already hard and leaking, gave it a single slow stroke, then another. Devinn arched, hips snapping forward into the grip, breath punched out of him. A second pair of hands spread his ass, one slick finger circling then pressing inside. The finger twisted and he groaned, head dropping back against the cushions. He clenched around it, pushed down, took it deeper. Another finger joined, scissoring him open while his cock throbbed in the tight fist working him. Sweat ran down his chest. Someone leaned in to lick a stripe up his throat, then bit the tendon there. The wet sound of fingers pumping in and out filled the space between their ragged breathing. Devinn's thighs trembled. He could feel the tip of a cock nudging at his rim, smearing precum across the stretched muscle. The first push was slow, deliberate, the head popping past the ring before the shaft followed in one smooth glide. He gasped. The couch creaked under the rhythm that started—hard, deep thrusts that rocked him into the hand still jerking him off. His own cum had already painted someone's fingers; now it slicked the strokes, making everything filthier. A second housemate straddled Devinn's face, lowering his own cock to Devinn's lips. Devinn opened without hesitation, took him to the root, gagged once and swallowed around it. Spit ran down his chin while the man above him rocked into his mouth, balls brushing Devinn's nose with every thrust. The couch shook. Skin slapped skin. Someone came with a choked moan, pulsing hot inside Devinn, filling him until it leaked out around the shaft still buried there. Another replaced him almost at once, sliding through the mess, pushing deeper than the first. Devinn's cock jerked untouched and he shot again, ropes striping his stomach and the hand wrapped around him. The taste of salt flooded his mouth as the man fucking his throat came, pulling back just enough to paint Devinn's tongue and lips before shoving back in to finish. Cum dripped from Devinn's chin onto his chest. He swallowed what he could, licked his lips for the rest. The room smelled like sex and sweat and the sharp tang of fresh come. Bodies kept moving. Fingers kept stroking. Devinn took it all—every thrust, every hand, every mouth—until the only sound left was the wet slide of skin and the low, broken sounds still tearing from his throat.