Three's Company

It didn't speak well to the quality of the dicking down he was receiving that Roger's mind had time to wander to regrets. Though, part of the issue was just that there was nothing particularly remarkable about getting his ass plowed in the storeroom. He and the church cook had a working agreement that if they were alone, sex was fair game.

At the start, it had been breathtaking to have the wiry man pull him aside and push fingers inside with only the whisper of cloth as a warning. Now, his moans felt performative as the man pressed against his entrance, cold oil dripping down his legs as the man pushed in. Still, Roger knew a thing or two about simply needing an outlet.

"Oh fuck yes," he groaned as the head of the dick breached the ring of muscle around his entrance. He did appreciate the fullness, the slight burning at the stretch, but his thoughts continued to wander.

What was Victor doing this very moment? His thoughts always seemed to land on the guard these days. Anyone could see how sexually compatible they were; that wasn't the problem. Roger, however, didn't know how to deal with the emotional side. How he would lay awake at night thinking of the feeling of Victor's fingers brushing against the back of his head as Roger sucked his cock. It wasn't to push him deeper or get any sort of gratification of his own but to check in on Roger himself.

As his current situation was evidence, Roger usually chose partners who paid very little consideration to his own comfort in situations like these. And after all, wasn't that the safer option? To leave anything deeper than physical pleasure and the pleasure derived from pain at the door? How better to avoid getting hurt.

The cook shoved into Roger hard, sheathing himself in one quick movement that drew Roger's thoughts back to the moment. Finally. He didn't want to think of Victor and his gentle touches or rough fucking. He just needed to think of this.

"So tight for me even though you're a little slut," the cook grunted into the back of his neck. His body pushed up against Roger's, pressing him against the pantry shelves. Roger's cock twitched a response to the words, growing more desperate for friction.

He gave in to the sensation, rubbing against the shelves through his robes. It hurt, but even that hurt was such a relief that he let out a choked sob.

"That's it, take me deeper," the cook said, his words interrupted by the sound of the pantry door opening.

The cook paused only for a moment before easing back into his previous rhythm. Though, Roger noted that the grip of his fingers dug harder into his hips, hard enough to bruise.

"Now now," one of the other kitchen staff said. "I thought we had an agreement about sharing snacks?"

Victor couldn't see him, but he didn't care. He just needed more.

The cook pulled him off the shelf by his robes, turning the two of them so Roger would face the intruder. He didn't so much as pause, not to mention, give any sign of revoking consent.

"Well, if you're going to join, get in here already," the cook said and slammed hard into Roger, claiming his own position.

The new man was one of the older staff members, his long, grizzled beard extending down his chest. And if Roger remembered correctly from his previous encounters with the man, he was just as much of a mess in his lower grooming.

He stepped forward, already unlacing his pants and pulling out his limp member as he did. The man reached up to run his thumb over Roger's lower lip, mouth hanging open as he panted, before slapping him.

"Waste of a good mouth right there," the man said and gripped Roger's chin, fingers digging into the flesh there. He pressed at the hinge of Roger's jaw to make him open wider before spitting into his mouth.

The man let go of Roger's face and instead buried his fingers into Roger's hair, pulling hard as he forced Roger into a new position, bent over between the two men. Roger was face to face with the man's flaccid cock, which sure enough was surrounded by the same mess of hair that Roger remembered from before.

"Well, what are you waiting for, slut?" the man asked. He grabbed Roger's hair again and pulled his face closer, rubbing it against his limp member. "Get started."

Roger was achingly hard now, and he did as he was told, losing himself in being nothing more than a fuck for the two men. Completely irreplaceable, little more than a cum dump.

He opened his mouth wider, sticking out his tongue as far as he could manage and running it down the man's cock, taking it into his mouth even limp as it was while he rested his hands against the man's thighs to hold his pose. From behind, the man changed pace, switching to slower, deeper thrusts as he pulled Roger's robes up farther, fully exposing his own cock.

"Well, what'd ya know. He's enjoying himself."

Roger's arousal was rewarded with a tight grip and a rough tug. Spots of white filled his vision, and he moaned around the cock in his mouth, swallowing around the edge of it as the man began to harden. This was all he needed to be used and use others in return who wanted nothing more than sex. This was perfect for a slut like him.

He sucked, giving it all he could, not caring about the bitter taste of the man inside his mouth or the reek of sweat from his poor hygiene. No, Roger took it all and would have begged for more if his mouth hadn't been full.

The decision was made for him as the cock in his mouth was rudely removed before the man finished.

"Both of you on the floor," he said. "We're going to see just how much the slut can take.

Drool ran down Roger's face joining the rest of the mess there. He cried out as the first man pulled out of his ass, but at least he didn't have to wait for long. The first man got down on the floor, laying down, his cock at attention as he propped himself up on his elbows to keep a better view.

"You too, slut," the second man said and pushed Roger down onto his knees. "What are you waiting for? Get back on him but face me."

Roger did as he was told. He spread his cheeks with his fingers, though he could feel he gaped considerably thanks to the men's attentions and his own need. Never breaking eye contact with the older man, he slipped down onto the first, stopping only when his ass was flush with his hips.

The older man nodded his approval, then lowered himself to his knees as well. He pumped slowly at his own cock as he took in the sight of Roger, hard as sin and split open by the cook.

"You're so loose you could probably take a third one, but two'll have to do for now," he said, then leaned forward.

Roger's cock rubbed up against the man's stomach as he did so, the blissful friction drawing hoarse cries from his battered throat. The sound was cut short as the older man reached up and slapped him hard again.

"We're not here to pleasure you," he said, tone serious in a way that made anticipation build up in Roger's stomach. "That's your job."

"Yes, sir."

Roger fought to keep his cries silent as the man leaned forward again, pressing his cock against Roger's already full entrance. But like the man said, he was loose.

All the same, the second cock burned, and had he not already clenched his jaw shut, Roger would have cried out in pain. Instead, he took it silently as the older man pushed further and further inside until he could move no farther with their awkward positioning.

"It'll have to do," he said, then set a slow, agonizing pace.

The cook couldn't move much, only rock his hips up into Roger, but Roger felt every bit of it, rubbing against his walls. They weren't deep enough to hit his prostate, it seemed, but that was a blessing all its own. Roger doubted he could have taken all of that sensation on top of everything else. On top of the friction against his own cock. Gods, he was so full. It was so good. How could he have ever been satisfied with just one cock inside him?

But even with his fullness, a flash of memory of his time with Victor came into Roger's mind against his will. He pushed it away, but not before the old man shot hot ropes of cum into him, joined in moments by the cook.

They pulled out, leaving him wanting on the cold floor of the pantry, going back to their usual business after hiding away their spent cocks. And as Roger reached up to touch himself, he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for thinking of Victor's hands on his body instead of theirs.