Christmas Special Day 3

'Twas the third day of Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, but for one slutty mouth;

The three lads were well-hung, cocks out and bare,

In hopes that your tonsils soon would be there;

The guests were spred-legged out on the bed;

While dribbles of precum dripped from their heads;

And mamma in her PJs, whilst you slept unclad,

Were using the brain-app to see just how bad

Your IQs had dropped from the lack of a platter

Of cum in your bellies, of thick white ball batter.

When in from the door appeared in a flash

A large portly figure; erect, unabashed.

The light from your phone cast a pale eery glow

On a large throbbing phallus exposed from below,

The purpose of which to your mind was quite clear,

Another donation of cum volunteered.

“I have a surprise - if you’re done?” did he add,

And you knew by his voice that this man was your dad.

Still thrusting his cock in your mouth, Peter came,

As your father, he shouted, and called out by name:

“Hey, cum slut! you prime cut! now he’s nut, you’re craving

For more sperm? well don’t squirm! because I’ve been saving

A job for your mouth! and your body withal!

Now follow me! follow me! come down the hall!”

The **** cunt that you were, nearly dragged

By your hair down the hall as he blustered and bragged

So on to your brother’s rank bedroom you flew,

With the dragging of heels, and your brother in tow.

And then, in a twinkling, you heard from his room

A booting up jingle: computer game tunes.

As you peeked in your head, your eyes widened and strayed

To the sight laid before you: three new cocks displayed.

You found yourself hussled and tossed to the floor

Whilst father, he offered the why and wherefore:

“Three friends of your brother I’ve brought to recieve

Your services rendered; exchange for their seed!”

Their shafts—how they glistened! their ball sacks, how heavy!

Their eyes full of bliss, they were stroking already!

The drool from their mouths made their intentions known,

As they wiped it away and collectively moaned

In arousal as all of them, damned Peter too,

Descended on you without further ado.

Your brother, he grabbed you, pried open your lips,

And throated his prick with a thrust of his hips.

“She's a slut,” said dear Peter, “She loves it - let’s game!”

But you gagged as he filled you, in spite of his claim.

A wink of an eye and a twist of his tool

Soon had your chin dripping with thick strands of drool;

He spoke no more words, but went straight to his work,

And humped at your head; As you retched, he just smirked.

Then pushing you roughly to next in the queue,

And giving a nod to your father, you knew

This night would be long, with your throat full of chode

And semen, the gift that your dad had bestowed.

And you heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-

“Happy Christmas, you slut - and to all a good night!"

---

Well, you suppose it’s the thought that counts. Whilst you appreciate your fathers determination to seeing your medical needs fulfilled – ugh, the fact that you have to live in a world where semen is considered medicine now – well whatever, you just wish he could have arranged it with somebody - anybody - other than your asshole brother and his posse of brain-dead buddies. You vaguely recognise a couple of them as they push your head back and forth between their crotches between shooting each other and exchanging sexist remarks about waifus – though your familiarity only extends as far as the smell and taste of their genitals.

Peter pushes you towards the first in the queue, a chubby teenage boy by the name of Randall. He wastes no time in twisting your head around to face him and shoving several fat fingers coated in cheese puffs between your lips. You scramble to right yourself. Your attempts at explaining that you’re not in fact an owl, and he could have just asked before trying to crank your head around 180 degrees are cut short by a hand pushing gently but insistently on the back of your head, and a mouthful of cock flesh stifling your tongue.

One hand still clumsily and somewhat painfully prying your jaw open, he takes his time exploring your mouth with his cock, pushing himself against your cheek until it bulges obscenely like a stuffed chipmonk.

“Dude, pass the controller,” the owner of the cock currently brushing your teeth with precum says. “Winner stays on, yeah?”

“With those hands? No fucking way, man,” Peter replies. “I’m not passing you shit until you wipe that cheeto dust off your fingers. Don’t be gross.”

“Sorry mate, my bad,” Randall replies, wiping his hands on his shirt, whilst pushing his other hand so far into your mouth that you start to gag.

Withdrawing his fingers and wiping the thick strands of gag-spit onto your hair, he goes back to pushing on your head with one hand whilst gaming with the other. You just focus on your breathing. It’ll all be over soon. Just keep sucking, get your medicine, get out. It’ll all be over soon.

The day can’t be far off when your gag reflex will finally have been beaten into utter submission, but for now, you still retch and heave when the boy gets too eager and pushes his cockhead up against the soft, fleshy palette at the back of your mouth. Thankfully, Randall doesn’t seem too keen on the wretched, wet belches being **** out of you, and resigns himself to fucking the inside of your cheek. You roll your tonge around his shaft and balls, drooling onto his lap, simply thankful that he’s not getting too rough with you.

“Get your head in the game, Randall”, laughs Peter. “That’s 2-1 to me. David, you’re up next. And pass Sarah along too, don’t hog the bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, lemme just… ohhhh, fuck yeah.” Randall grabs your head with both hands and humps frantically at your cheek. Having the skin hammered at so rapidy kind of hurts, but he seems close, so you just clench your fists and bear it. “I love fucking bitch's faces like this. Feels like stretching out their wombs, like in hentai when their bellies bulge.”

The other boys laugh and jeer. “Dude, who the fuck taught you biology?” David asks.

“Fuuuuck.... ugh. Uhhh… Ms. Simmons, I think?” Randall pauses to wipe his spent cock on your face before pushing you away, and kicking you unceremoniously over towards the next guy, a lanky skinhead. You sprawl on the floor, cheeks bulging, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth and swallowing your medicine with a grimace.

“We spent most of last semester running a train on her, remember?” Randall says, passing over the controller. “Wasn't that whore fired after getting addicted to piss? Or was that the chemistry bitch? I lose track.”

“Well that explains your dumb ass then." David laughs. “’Aight, let’s see what this slut can do.”

David starts with a regular, run of the mill blowjob. Which is to say, he twists a fistful of your hair between his grubby hands and nearly rips it out as he dribbles your skull on his cock. Unlike Randall, he seems to prefer the sounds of you gagging and belching on his cock, and takes full advantage of your gag reflex by hammering his bellend against the back of your throat.

It's not long before he tosses his controller onto the bed and you feel his other hand grip your head. Unable to breathe, completely under his control from the neck up, it’s all you can do to simply grab his thighs and resign yourself to a brutal throat dredging. Gag spit hangs in thick strands from his balls, and you concentrate on not throwing up as your throat bulges forcefully and rythmically.

“Fuck dude, your sister is a right good piece of fuck meat,” he proclaims. Oh joy, what fine praise for a young lady.

“Meh, she’s okay,” Peter shrugs. “Gets too pissy for my tastes. Speaking of, been trying to get dad to let her try piss, but he always says no.”

You tap at David’s thighs politely as you finally run out of oxygen.

“I get it, man. Some of the piss whores I’ve seen went off the rails hard."

“He’ll give in sooner or later, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. Old man’s still pretending he doesn’t want to turn her into a sex toy. Waste of good holes if you ask me.”

David swats your hands away as you slap and wave, desperately signalling the need to breathe as your face starts to turn a darker shade of crimson.

“At least you’re allowed to bring home other toys, my dad makes me feed my sisters ever since my mom went comatose.” David laughs. “He thinks I’m just gaming with you guys right now, he’d blow a gasket if he knew I was ‘wasting loads’ on someone other than Rach or Mel.”

Pushing frantically at the bedframe, you twist and squirm as tears pour down your face. Your lungs burn, every instinct screaming for release.

“Ooh, I need to borrow Rachel again some time, your sis is fuckin’ tight,” your brother says. “She hates my guts too, makes it so much more fun.”

David keeps laughing. Swatting your hands away again, he wraps his legs around your head in a leglock. Spittle and slime pool around his ballsack as he crushes your face between his thighs and starts ejaculating directly into your stomach.

Headshot!

“Aaand that’s my game," says Peter. “Tommy, you’re up next.”

“Duuude, cheap shot,” replies David, finally releasing your head and tossing the controller to the next guy in line. You fall back onto your ass, clutching at your neck, coughing and retching.

You’ve never seen this Tommy guy before today. Tallest in the group by a full head, he’s a heavyset, bull-necked teenager with an athletic figure and a fairly ugly, brutish looking face. His looks are not your main concern at present, however. The dangerously large cock standing proudly erect between his spread legs is. You eye it up and feel a twinge of fear shoot down your spine.

“Come on, bitch, get to work”, Tommy says, dragging you back towards your brother’s bed where he sits. Tossing you onto the mattress with zero effort, the room spins and you find yourself lying on your belly, the upper half of your body hanging over his left thigh, his enormous shaft hovering upside down, filling your vision. With both arms stretched out below your head holding you up in a handstand, you’re still feeling dizzy from nearly being choked out by David. Being upside down isn’t making you feel any better, but you stick out your tongue and begin to tentitively lick his swollen balls regardless.

“Nah, bitch. I want your throat,” Tommy says, grabbing your head roughly with both hands and lifting up your skull until the tip of his shaft presses against your lips. You look down the underside of his cock, judging the distance between the tip and his balls. This is going to hurt.

Very quickly, you’re incapable of thinking anything at all as your head is brutally skewered on a thick, uncaring column of flesh.

“Fuuck, yeaahh. Gag on it, you filthy fucking whore. Take that cock!”

Your neck distends grotesquely and your vision blurs as the limits of your gag reflex is tested, discovered, totally ignored and then mercilessly abused within the space of several short seconds.

“Yeeeahhhh, show me those guts, you fuckin’ cunt. **** on it! Take it all, you slut!” Tommy maintains his savage pace as all your hard work is uncerimoniously expelled onto your brother’s bedroom floor. You desperately try to take a breath whenever you can, but find yourself mostly inhaling liquid.

“Dude, she’s snorting your cum like a ****, fuckin dirty slut, that’s wild!” You're not even sure who's talking any more. Everything sounds faint and low pitch, like people speaking behind a wall. Your arms start to shake.

“Hey, it is a ****. I’m just administering it nasally,” he laughs. “Isn’t that right, you sloppy whore?” Your cheek stings as he slaps the side of your head. Tears flow down your forehead as you struggle to hold your breath, face half submerged in thick spittle and cum.

Against your better instinct, the need for air forces a whine from you. Strong arms simply pushe harder at your head as you start to wriggle, trying to get free in order to take a breath. You can only manage to withdraw half the cock from your throat before being slammed back down until your nose is once again submerged under your own slimy mess. This rhythm repeats until you start to panic and slap at his legs. Just as your vision starts to black out and your arms give out completely, a noise at the door causes the boy currenly waterboarding you with your own body fluids to quickly pull your head away and allow you a series of deep, wet gasping breaths.

Peter's bedroom door swings open and your father bustles in, his own throbbing erection in one hand and a bundle of candy cane sticks in the other. Thank god. As much as you need semen to survive, your brother is not allowed to treat you like this.

"How are you boys getting along?" he asks, tottering over to you until his shaft is rubbing against the side of your face. His bulbous dripping head covers half your vision, and you feel moisture trickling down your forehead and nose as he cradles his ballsack and dribbles precum onto your face.

"Very good, thank you Sir," Peter's friends all echo respectfully.

"Good, good," your father mutters. "I brought some snacks for you boys. Is Sarah being a good host for you?"

"Generally. She's still whining as usual," says Peter, rolling his eyes and surrepticiously tossing a stained towel over the mess you'd made of his floor. "We're trying to do her a favour here, but you know how she gets."

You begin to object and explain the situation to your father, but he quickly interjects.

"Now now pumpkin, no need for any of that. Here, I brought you some candy to help with the taste - I know you're not a fan of the taste of your medicine, but this should make things a little easier for you." He hands you another cum-flavoured advent calendar chocolate. "And it is Christmas after all! Do try to get into the spirit. Things are looking up for you, I promise, sweetie."

You shudder at the taste. It's not much better than waht is already coating every tastebud in your mouth, but at least it has chocolate in it.

"And another! Never let it be said I don’t give you anything darling!" your father says as he slides a candy cane between your lips. Whether he had to hold the back of your head as he prodded the end of the candy against the back of your throat until you gagged and drooled on yourself, or why he had to rub his erection against the side of your face with his pre-cum dribbling between your eyes, you didn’t know, though you feared Peter was right. You couldn't rely on your mother to have your back ever since you became competition for her life, and as much as your dad's words were kind, you suspect the facade is close to falling. Please, let somebody cure this damnable virus soon.

Apparently satisfied with toying with your mouth, he tossed a couple more candy canes to your brother and his guests, and wandered off, calling for your mother to finish him off.

Peter signals to Randall, who closes the bedroom door behind your father. You yelp in surprise as all four boys waste no time in surrounding you. David pulls your head back by your hair as Tommy and Peter use the candy to fish-hook your mouth open. Randall grabs your hand and wraps it around his cock, jerking himself off with your palm until at last he shoots another load into your stretched, gaping maw.

"Don't swallow it, slut," he says. "Not yet!"

You sit on your heels, eyes flittering between the boys in confusion as they each take turns jerking themselves off into your mouth, using your mouth as a cum dumpster. David next, then your brother again, and finally Tommy dumps a second load into your mouth. Head still tilted back and mouth filled almost to the brim, you breath through your nose and try not to gag or cough at the taste saturating your tongue.

"Gargle it, whore," Peter demands.

Cum dribbles over your lips and down your face as you breathe through the thick ball batter, gargling as the boys laugh and tuck their cocks away.

"Alright that's enough, you can swallow now," your brother says before pointing to the towel covering the mess you made of his carpet. "And then you can clean up your mess, you dirty bitch."

Cheeks burning with shame, you get down on all fours and crawl around the room, sucking all the regurgitated globs of cum from the floor by the bed, and scooping the slop from your face and tits into your mouth. A disturbingly regular post-coital routine for women these days, you can't afford to waste any valuable medicine - not after what you went through to obtain in. You wobble and steady yourself as your ass starts to sting; Peter's friends whoop, holler and leave red hand prints as they slap your tight little bubble ass. You do your best to ignore them as you press your lips to the grimy carpet and suck your medicine from fibre stained with cum from god knows how many dragged-home sluts of your brother.

At least you got, by your count, 8 doses of cum tonight? The fact that you were able to keep count is a good sign that your IQ has stabilised the past couple of days. More complex thoughts are still just out of reach. Trying to reach them feels like walking underwater - the resistance is great, but they're now within reach. Not bad going. If you can keep this pace up with the help from your father's gifts, and avoid having a mental breakdown or becoming a piss whore, perhaps your life will return to something resembling normality soon. And if it put your brother in a good mood, maybe he'll be more likely to help out without taking advantage... maybe.

All in all, tonight has been a good haul, even if you had to go through hell to get it. Just keep stockpiling that cum, you tell yourself. You might even be able to treat yourself to a couple of days off soon at this pace.

---

On the third day of Christmas, my Daddy gave to me
Three friends head,
Two titty fucks,
And a cumshot in the pussy.