I've felt into my boyfriend buddies hand

People has two face, maybe it's true after all. My name's is Hasumi. I'm a member of swimming club in Tokyo High school. I'm in second year. I'm in relationship with my senpai, Takashi, third year student who also member of swimming club. Everything was perfect until Takashi's friend, Hiroki, show his true [self.

Me](http://self.Me)

and Takashi been dating long enough, he even make a promise that even after he graduated he still my boyfriend. But Hiroki been acting weird lately. At first it just harmless joke, like when i walk pass him in hallway he suddenly bump into me and "accidently" brush his hand against my chest. I let it slide, thinking he just clumsy. Then one day after practice, when everyone already left, Hiroki cornered me in the locker room. His breath smelled like cheap beer and his eyes looked wrong—dark and hungry in a way that made my stomach drop.

His true face finally show up when I was alone, he ask me "Hey, Hasumi. Can you tell me Takashi's phone number?." while grab his phone. I was stupid enough to trust him. But when I lean in to see his phone screen, he suddenly grab my wrist and push me against the locker. His other hand quickly cover my mouth before I can scream. "Shhh... don't make a sound," he whisper, his breath hot against my ear. "Takashi's not here to protect you now." His grip was like iron, and I could feel his hard-on pressing against my thigh through his track pants.

"Let me go!" I hissed against his palm, twisting my hips to break free, but Hiroki only tightened his grip, fingers digging into my waist as he ground himself against me. The metallic clang of the lockers vibrated through my back, cold and unyielding like the smirk curling his lips. His free hand slid under my swim team jersey, calloused fingertips tracing the edge of my sports bra—slow, deliberate—before pinching my nipple hard enough to wring a muffled whimper from my throat. "See?" he murmured, voice thick with something between amusement and lust. "You’re already getting wet for me."

"I-i'm not, mmpph—" My protest died against Hiroki's palm as he shoved his knee between my thighs, the rough fabric of his sweats scraping against my bare skin under my shorts. His teeth grazed my earlobe before sucking it into his mouth, wet and obscene, the sound alone making heat coil low in my belly despite the panic clawing up my throat. His fingers abandoned my nipple to yank down the waistband of my shorts, nails biting into my hip as he cupped me through the damp cotton of my panties. "Liar," he chuckled darkly, rubbing slow circles that sent shameful sparks up my spine. "Fuck, you’re dripping."

Without second thought, he buried two fingers inside me before mercilessly curling them—stretching me open with a lewd squelch that echoed louder than my choked gasp. His thumb found my clit immediately, pressing just shy of pain while my body betrayed me by rocking into his touch. "Good girl," Hiroki purred, watching tears spill down my cheeks even as my thighs trembled around his wrist. "Takashi never makes you come like this, does he?" The truth burned worse than his grip when he twisted my nipple again, sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain that arched my back off the locker.

"Hel-mmpph" As I about to scream, his lips sealed mine, tongue forcing its way inside, tasting me like I was his. His fingers still working inside me, curling and twisting, hitting spots I didn't even know existed. My knees buckled, and he caught me, his free hand sliding up to my throat, pressing just enough to make stars dance behind my eyelids. "That's it," he growled against my lips. "Fight me all you want—your body knows who owns it now."

My orgams reach it peak but my scream only muffled with his lips still locking mine. Hiroki didn't stop until my body shake uncontrollably, then he suddenly pull his finger out and smack my wetness against my lips. "Taste yourself," he ordered, his voice rough with need. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my jaw, forcing me to lick his fingers clean—the salty tang of my own arousal mixing with the metallic bite of blood where I'd bitten his lip. His cock strained against his pants as he watched me, pupils blown wide with victory. "Now scream again and I'll fuck you raw in front of the whole team tomorrow."

He **** me to kneel as he freeing his horse like dick, the tip is already kiss my lips. "Suck it," he hissed, pushing himself deeper until my throat constricted around him. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gagged, my nails scratching uselessly against his thighs while his grip in my hair turned vicious. The musk of precum and sweat filled my nostrils as he thrust deeper, the veins along his shaft rubbing against my tongue in a way that made him groan. "Fuck, Takashi never gets this, does he?" He yanked my head back just to watch spit string between my lips and his cock before shoving me down again.

"Ggllrrk, ggllrrk," the rhythm of my **** echoed obscenely as Hiroki pistoned his hips faster, his balls slapping against my chin with each brutal thrust. My vision blurred from tears and lack of oxygen, but he only laughed—a low, breathy sound that vibrated through his cock buried down my throat. "Look at you," he panted, jerking my head up by the hair to smear my ruined lipstick across his shaft, "Takashi's perfect little girlfriend—gagging on my dick like a back alley whore." The humiliation burned hotter than the friction razing my throat when his free hand squeezed my breast through the jersey, thumb finding my hardened nipple through the fabric.

"Now as an appetizer." As he said it, the huge amount of hot seed goes straight into my throat, and Hiroki groans as he grabs my hair tighter, forcing me to swallow every drop. "Fuck, that's good," he growls, watching tears spill down my cheeks as I cough around his softening cock. His thumb smears the mess on my chin, pushing it into my mouth with a cruel chuckle. "Clean it up, Hasumi. Every last drop." The bitter taste makes me gag again, but his grip on my jaw leaves no room for refusal.

Before I can catch my breath, he flips me around, shoving me face-first against the cold metal lockers. My shorts and panties are yanked down in one rough motion, the sound of fabric tearing barely registering over the pounding of my heart. His hands spread my thighs wider as his cock—already hard again—presses against me, the tip slick with my own wetness. "No—" The word barely leaves my lips before he slams into me with one brutal thrust, tearing a scream from my throat that echoes off the tiles.

"Aaahhnnn~!" I can't believe the sound that just came out of my own mouth—high-pitched and broken as Hiroki's cock stretches me wider than Takashi ever has. His hips snap forward relentlessly, the slap of skin against skin mixing with the squeak of the locker denting under my fingers. Every thrust punches another pathetic noise from my lips, my body betraying me by clenching around him despite the burn of friction. "See how much better I fuck you?" Hiroki growls, one hand fisting my ponytail to yank my head back while the other grips my hip hard enough to bruise.

"You're gonna get fucked a lot." He said in whispers. Hiroki's fingers dug into my hips as he hammered into me, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that made my vision blur. The wet slap of skin echoed off the locker room walls, mingling with my choked sobs and his ragged breathing. I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, stretching me impossibly wider with every snap of his hips—Takashi had never filled me like this, never made me ache so deliciously. "Look at you," he snarled, twisting my ponytail tighter until my scalp burned, "taking it like you were made for my cock."

I wail, eyes rolling back. The intense mix of pain and pleasure short circuits my brain as Hiroki's cock grinds against my cervix—his grip on my ponytail keeps me arched at an angle where every brutal thrust punches air from my lungs. My knees buckle but he holds me up effortlessly, fingers digging bruises into my thighs as slickness drips down to soak my trembling legs. "Fuck—you're clenching," he groans, slamming into me harder when my traitorous body involuntarily tightens around him. "Gonna milk me dry like a good little slut?"

With a guttural groan, he bury himself to the hilt and erupt. Huge amount of hot cum flood my abused hole, painting my womb white. I can't help but moan—body jerking as the scalding heat sends electric pleasure up my spine. Hiroki chuckle darkly, hips still grinding as his cum leak out around his softening cock. "Look at that," he murmur, dragging a finger through the mess dripping down my thighs before shoving it into my mouth. "Bet Takashi never filled you up like this."

"Mmmmph..." Can't believe I moan around his length, sending delicious vibrations through. My tongue swirls along the underside, tracing the pulsing veins. Every inch of me aches in ways I don't understand—his cum still dripping down my thighs, my nipples hard against the cold locker, my cunt clenching around nothing now that he's pulled out. Hiroki's fingers tighten in my hair as he watches me lick his cock clean, his dark eyes burning with something beyond hunger. "Good girl," he murmurs, thumb brushing my swollen lips. "Maybe I'll keep you."

Afterwards, our "relationship" start. Hiroki will always find his time and space only to toying my body. Everytime he got his chance, he never hesitate to use me—bend me over the poolside bleachers during morning practice, press me against the showers until the tiles left imprints on my skin, even once dragging me into the equipment closet where the scent of chlorine and his sweat clung to me for hours. Each time left me shaking—not just from the aftershocks, but from the way my body arched into his touch despite the acid shame curling in my gut.

Even when I was in the middle of phone call with Takashi, he will just gonna pound me while whisper for me to make sure Takashi didn't find out. That was happened today—his fingers digging into my hipbones as he fucked me from behind, the screen of my phone still lit with Takashi's name. "Tell him you're busy," Hiroki growled against the nape of my neck, punctuating each word with a thrust that made my teeth rattle. I bit my lip hard enough to bleed, trying to steady my voice as Takashi asked why I sounded out of breath. "J-just finished swimming drills," I lied, muffling a whimper when Hiroki's palm cracked against my ass.

The worst part? My body learned to crave it—the sharp sting of his slap, the way he'd **** me just shy of passing out, the unbearable stretch of his cock forcing its way inside before I was ready. Today, after practice, I didn't even wait for him to corner me. My thighs pressed together under the pretense of cold, but really it was to smother the throbbing between them. Hiroki noticed instantly, his smirk widening as he leaned in to whisper, "You're dripping through your shorts, Hasumi. Want me to fix that?" Shame burned my cheeks even as I nodded.

Day by day, Hiroki won't stop until my belly full with his seed—pumping me full until I walk funny for hours afterward, his cum leaking down my thighs every time I squat during practice. Today was worse; he dragged me into the equipment storage room during lunch break, shoving my face into musty foam kickboards while he took me from behind, murmuring filthy praise about how my cunt had memorized the shape of his cock. I came untouched, screaming into a rolled-up towel as my orgasm ripped through me with terrifying intensity.

Before I realize it, the time I've spent with Hiroki start to change me. Everytime I and Takashi go for a date, I feel nothing but hollow kisses and lifeless touches—his hands gentle on my waist where Hiroki would grip me hard enough to leave bruises, his lips soft against mine where Hiroki bites until I taste blood. Takashi whispers sweet nothings while Hiroki growls filth that makes my thighs clench. It's wrong, so wrong, but I find myself pressing my legs together under the table, remembering the way Hiroki had bent me over the same spot last week when no one was looking.

Soon after, he's not coming at me for another round but I'm the one who coming at him instead. My fingers tremble as I slide open the locker room door—still empty after practice, the air thick with chlorine and the musk of sweat-damp towels. Hiroki lounges on the bench, towel slung low on his hips, smirk already curling his lips before I even speak. "Miss me that much?" he taunts, but the hitch in his breath when I drop to my knees between his spread thighs gives him away. My palms slide up his calves, nails digging in just how he likes it, and his cock twitches under the towel before I've even touched him.

I suck him and let him pound me in every possible way. My lips part instinctively as Hiroki's fingers twist in my hair, guiding me onto his cock with a sharp tug that makes my scalp sting. The taste of him—salt and musk and something uniquely Hiroki—floods my mouth as I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks just the way he taught me. His groan vibrates through me, his hips jerking upward to fuck my throat in short, brutal strokes that leave me gasping around him. "Fuck, look at you," he rasps, thumb smearing my tears across my cheekbone. "Born to suck cock."

Now he's not use my pussy, he use my asshole instead. Hiroki flips me onto my stomach without warning, his calloused hands spreading my cheeks apart before spitting directly onto my tight hole. I whimper into the bench, fingers scrabbling against the slick tiles as he rubs the head of his cock against me—not teasing, just cruel preparation before he rams in with one vicious thrust. The pain whites out my vision, my scream muffled by the towel he shoves into my mouth, but he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just fucks me raw until the burn melts into a shameful, molten pleasure.

"FUUUCK!! So deep! Splitting me open!" I wail, eyes rolling back and my tongue rolling out shamelessly The intense mix of pain and pleasure short-circuits my brain as Hiroki's cock grinds against my prostate—his grip on my ponytail keeps me arched at an angle where every brutal thrust punches air from my lungs. My knees buckle but he holds me up effortlessly, fingers digging bruises into my thighs as slickness drips down to soak my trembling legs. "Fuck—you're clenching," he groans, slamming into me harder when my traitorous body involuntarily tightens around him. "Gonna milk me dry like a good little slut?"

Just after that words came out of his mouth, a huge wave of hot seed burst inside me—flooding my ass with thick ropes that made my toes curl against the damp tiles. Hiroki growled low in his throat as he pumped every last drop into me, his hips stuttering against my bruised flesh while my body milked him shamelessly. I could feel his cum leaking out around his softening cock, dripping down my thighs in warm streaks that matched the tears on my cheeks. "Look at you," he panted, dragging a rough finger through the mess before smearing it across my swollen lips. "Ruined for anyone else."

One day, the day when my life really turn upside down. Inside the swimming club storage room, Hiroki set up a camera and told me to wear my swimsuit with "Hiroki's Property" write on it. He didn't even bother with foreplay—just pushed me against the stacked kickboards and yanked the crotch of my suit aside, driving into me with a single thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs. "Smile for the camera, Hasumi," he growled, fingers twisting in my hair to **** my face toward the lens as my hips jerked back against his involuntarily. "Let's see how Takashi likes his girlfriend begging for my cock."

He set a punishing pace, pounding into my tight hole with animalistic ferocity. The wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely through the room. My legs tremble, barely holding me up as you rail me mercilessly. Tears stream down my face, mixing with sweat and spit while the camera captures every humiliating detail—my bouncing tits, my gaping hole stretched around his cock, the way my body convulses with unwilling pleasure. "Say it," he growls, fingers tightening in my hair. "Say who owns you."

My throat constricts around the words, but Hiroki slams his full length into me, hitting that spot that makes my vision whiten. "H-hiroki! You own me!" I scream, the admission tearing from my lips as an unexpected orgasm rips through me. The camera catches the precise moment my face contorts in ecstasy, my cunt clamping down on him like a vice. Hiroki laughs—dark and triumphant—as he feels me milk him, my traitorous body betraying me completely.

I let out a choked sob, overwhelmed by the relentless pounding. My mind goes blank, reduced to a quivering, cock-drunk mess. "The bitch is me! Your bitch!" I keen desperately, my voice ragged. "I'm your fucktoy, your cumdump! Use me, **** me!" The words spill out like an avalanche, each syllable dripping with shameful arousal. Hiroki's grip tightens, his hips pistoning faster—his grunts grow louder, more feral.

Just as he cum, swelling my belly perfectly, I give two peace on the camera. My eyes rolling back and my tongue roll out, smile curls my lips—something broken in me finally clicking into place. The realization hits harder than Hiroki's thrusts: I'm smiling because I want this, because the shame now tastes sweeter than Takashi's promises ever did. His seed leaks down my thighs as I collapse against the kickboards, the camera still rolling to capture my trembling fingers tracing the fresh bruises on my hips—his brand.

Of course Hiroki would send it straight toward Takashi, because after it he never text me again. My phone remains silent for weeks—no good morning texts, no promises whispered between classes—just the echoing absence where Takashi used to be. But Hiroki fills every hollow space left behind, pressing me against the now-empty locker Takashi once used, his teeth scraping my throat as he whispers, "Miss your boyfriend? Don't worry—I'll fuck you so hard you forget his name."

At the end, being someone slut wasn't bad after all—Hiroki's marks branded deeper than Takashi's kisses ever could, his cum painting my insides where promises once lived. The sting of his slap lingers longer than sweet nothings, his growls echoing louder than whispered "I love yous." My thighs press together under my school skirt, not from modesty but to savor the ache he left there yesterday, the ghost of his fingers still bruising my skin.