Keep touching yourself and sucking Derek's cock, letting the warm voice guide you deeper into bliss

Evan's Bedroom, Blackwood Family Home, Suburban Ohio, at 8:45 AM on Saturday June 15th, 2024 Day 1.

You sink back onto Derek's cock like it's the most natural thing in the world, your glossy lips wrapping around his shaft, tongue lapping at the underside as you bob your head in a sloppy, wet rhythm. Your fingers are buried three-deep in your sloppy cunt, pumping in time with your mouth, and the warm voice inside your skull is singing—yes, good, more, empty, happy—and you believe every word of it because believing is easier than thinking.

Derek groans, one hand fisted in your thick braid, using it like a handle to guide your head up and down his length. "That's it, baby. Fuck, you're getting better already. Throat's opening up nice for me."

You moan around his cock, the vibration making him twitch against your tongue. Drool runs freely down your chin, dripping onto the sheets, mixing with the cum still leaking from your well-fucked pussy. Your eyes are glazed, unfocused, rolling slightly each time he nudges the back of your throat. The world has narrowed to sensation—cock in mouth, fingers in pussy, warm voice saying good girl.

Then your phone buzzes. Derek's buzzes too. He glances at it and grins wide.

"Change of plans. Jake says fuck noon—they're on their way now. Be here in like fifteen minutes."

You barely process the words. Your mouth keeps working, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. Derek lets you continue for another few minutes, using your throat lazily while he texts, until the doorbell rings downstairs.

Derek pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop and tucks himself away. "Stay right there. Don't move. Don't cover up."

He jogs downstairs. You hear the front door open, male voices—deep, excited, crude. Then footsteps coming up the stairs, multiple sets, heavy and eager.

The bedroom door swings open and three men pile in.

Jake Morrison is first—a thick-necked gym bro, maybe 21, with a military haircut and arms like tree trunks straining against a tight tank top. His jaw drops when he sees you sprawled on the bed, fingers still lazily working your clit, tits spilling out of that mesh 'BREED ME' top, cum glazing your thighs.

"Holy shit," Jake breathes, his eyes locked on your body. "Derek, you weren't kidding. This bitch is fucking unreal."

Marco Delgado pushes past him—leaner, wiry, with slicked-back dark hair and a cocky smirk. He's already unbuttoning his jeans. "Yo, where's this Evan dude? His girl is just sitting here waiting to get railed."

"Probably crying in a corner somewhere," Derek laughs. "His loss."

And then Tyrell Williams fills the doorframe. Six-foot-five, shoulders like a linebacker, skin dark as midnight, wearing a basketball jersey that strains across his massive chest. His eyes find you and his lips curl into a slow, predatory smile.

"Damn," Tyrell rumbles, his voice like gravel. "Look at this little goth freak. You sure she's down?"

"Bro, look at her shirt," Derek says, pointing at the stretched 'BREED ME' text across your tits. "She's been begging for it all morning. Already took my load once. Pussy's still dripping with it."

Jake is already pulling off his tank top, revealing a torso packed with muscle. "Condoms are in my pocket but honestly..." He trails off, inhaling deeply. The pheromones hit him and his pupils dilate visibly. "...fuck the condoms."

Marco climbs onto the bed beside you, his hand immediately grabbing one of your massive tits through the mesh, squeezing hard. "Hey baby," he murmurs in your ear, his other hand sliding down your stomach toward your busy fingers. "You want some help with that?"

Tyrell stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching you with those dark, hungry eyes. He hasn't moved yet. He's patient. "Nah," he says finally, shaking his head slowly. "I want her to look at me when I stretch her out. Want to see those pretty eyes go stupid when I put it in."

Your foggy brain registers three new cocks about to be unleashed on your helpless body. The warm voice squeals with delight. Your pussy clenches around your fingers, gushing fresh wetness.

Derek leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like a king watching his subjects approach the throne. "Gentlemen," he says, "Raven here is all yours. Just one rule—no pulling out."