Happy Fuck Day To You(3)💦💦

Chapter 3.

Aftermath & Round Three (or Was It Four?)

Rick’s POV

By the time most of the guys had started tapping out one by one, the living room looked no different than a crime scene produced from a very sticky porno.

Scattered all over the floor were empty lube bottles, discarded condoms, random pieces of clothing, and one very sad, half-melted chocolate cake that somehow never got eaten.

Only the real grinders remained: Tim, Jax (who apparently, ran on pure protein and spite), and Derek; my quiet accounting coworker who had somehow turned into a complete demon once the lights got lower.

I was a total wreck. Voice gone, legs shaking, body covered in drying cum and sweat. My hole felt used in the best and worst way possible: puffy, sloppy, still twitching like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the party was supposed to slow down.

Tim carried me onto the bed in our room, the others following like hungry wolves who’d only taken the edge off.

“One more round, baby,” he murmured against my ear as he laid me on my back. “Then we let you rest… maybe.”

I laughed weakly, already knowing that was a fat ass lie.

“You said that two rounds ago.”

A lazy grin appeared on their faces. They didn’t bother with being gentle anymore.

Jax flipped me onto all fours and slid back into me with one smooth thrust, the wet sounds utterly obscene.

“Still so fucking open,” he groaned. “Birthday boy’s hole is ruined for life.”

Derek moved in front of me, feeding me his curved cock while Tim knelt beside us, one of his hands stroking my exhausted dick and the other holding my head in place.

The overstimulation hit differently now, even every touch felt electric, too much and not enough at the same time. My cock was trying to get hard again but was mostly just leaking in pathetic little spurts.

They started rotating again, harder and faster. Tim took Jax’s place and fucked me deep and punishing, hitting deep into my ass with every stroke while Derek fucked my throat.

Jax used my hand first, then my mouth when Derek pulled out. The room was filled with the wet slap of skin, broken moans, and their filthy praise.

“Look at him…still taking it like a champ even after all that machine work.”

“Greedy little slut. You love being our birthday toy, don’t you?”

I couldn’t even answer properly anymore. Just made garbled sounds as tears of pleasure leaked from my eyes.

They pushed me into a full breeding train; one after another, no break, each one dumping another load deep inside me while the others held me open or stroked themselves back to full hardness.

The poppers came out again. Then more lube. Then fingers joining cocks. Double penetration turned into a messy, stretched-out reality that had me sobbing and laughing at the same time.

Tim was the last one. He pinned me down on my back, legs over his shoulders, and fucked me so hard the bedframe slammed against the wall like it was trying to file a complaint. Derek and Jax held my arms above my head, whispering the nastiest shit in my ears while Tim railed me.

“Come on, Rick. One more. Milk my cock with that wrecked hole.”

I came dry: no more liquid left in me, body convulsing, vision whiting out as the orgasm ripped through me like lightning. Tim followed right after, growling my name as he pumped the final load deep inside.

That was the last thing I clearly remembered.

Everything after that blurred into overwhelming sensation, hoarse begging, and the feeling of being completely, gloriously used.

Then… nothing.

……

I woke up slowly, the morning light stabbing through the curtains like it had a personal grudge with me.

My body felt like it had been hit by a truck. A very horny, well-endowed truck.

The sheets under me were clean: crisp and fresh, smelling faintly of laundry detergent instead of the crime scene from last night. My ass, however, was still pulsing like it had its own heartbeat. Every tiny shift sent a deep, aching throb through me that was equal parts reminder and warning.

What time was it?

I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. A sharp ache shot through my hole and down my thighs.

“Fuck…” I hissed, grabbing the edge of the bed for support.

That’s when I saw the tray on the nightstand. A plate with scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a tall glass of orange juice. Next to it was a handwritten note in Tim’s messy scrawl:

“Sorry your birthday wrecked you completely. Eat up. **smiley face**

P.S. You passed out like a champ. Proud of you.”

I stared at the smiley face for a long second, equally fond and mortified. Then reality hit me like a second truck.

Work.

I had work today.

“Shit! Shit shit shit!”

I scrambled out of bed, wincing with every step. My legs felt like jelly, my hole ached so badly I walked like I’d just ridden a horse for ten hours straight.

Getting dressed was another comedy show on its own; bending over to pull on pants made me groan out loud. Buttoning my shirt took forever because my arms were sore in places I didn’t know could get sore.

Somehow I managed. Suit on, tie crooked, hair still a mess. I shoveled half the breakfast down in record time, chugged the juice, and practically limped out the door, praying I wasn’t too late.

The office was its usual Monday-morning hell when I finally made it in; twenty minutes late, moving like a very well-fucked ninety-year-old.

I collapsed into my chair, barely able to conceal the wince, praying no one would notice my weird walk or the way I couldn’t quite sit normally.

Ten minutes later, Derek appeared at the side of my desk like a ghost from last night’s sins.

He leaned down, close enough that only I could hear, his voice low and filthy, a wicked little smirk playing on his lips.

“Morning, birthday boy. Still feeling all those loads from last night? Because I can still taste you on my cock… and I’m already thinking about round two in the supply closet after lunch.”

Fucking hell…

I’m toast.