One down, several more to go

As the first player began to move, Walter focused on keeping his expressions and moans in line with what Alison would do. He could feel every inch of the linebacker's length filling him, stretching him in a way that was both uncomfortable and strangely invigorating. Just breathe, he told himself, trying to synchronize his breathing with the player's thrusts.

This is for Tim, he repeated in his mind, a mantra to keep him going. I can do this. I have to do this. He looked up at the ceiling, avoiding the eager eyes of the other players waiting their turn. The room was filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and the occasional grunt or moan from the linebacker above him.

Walter could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to keep up the act. The linebacker's movements were becoming more erratic, his breaths coming in short gasps. Walter braced himself, knowing that the end was near for this round. Almost there, he thought, grinding his teeth. Just hold on a little longer.

As the linebacker reached his climax with a final, deep thrust, Walter let out a sigh of relief mixed with a touch of satisfaction. He had made it through the first round. But as the linebacker pulled out, Walter's relief was short-lived. He looked at the next player in line, another large, eager young man, and steeled himself for what was to come.

One down, several more to go, he thought, his mind already bracing for the next onslaught. This is going to be a fucking marathon.