My Straight Friends Love Challenges | E4 (Patreon)

All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.

This is a continuation of Part 3.

They Wanted a Rematch, So I Gave It to Them

I stood in the bedroom a moment longer than necessary. I took everything off slowly, feeling the air brush against my skin. My cock was already hard, tense, betraying me mercilessly. I didn't even try to hide it.

"Well, well..." Nick said with a slight laugh. "Not bad, Matt."

Ryan nodded, his gaze heavy and focused.

"The perfect body for a massage." He paused. "And not only that."

I didn't answer. I just lay down on my stomach, spreading my arms along my body. The mattress was cool, but my body was not. I could feel my erection pressing into the bed, my breathing becoming shallower. I wasn't in control now.

I heard them kneel on either side of me. One on the left, one on the right.

Close. Too close.

Then a sound, distinctive, wet. Oil.

Warm. Thick. Fragrant. Spilled without restraint.

The first contact was simultaneous. Two pairs of hands landed on my back at the same moment, as if they had practiced it. Smooth, synchronized movements. Not too strong. Not too light. Perfectly sensed.

I closed my eyes.

Their hands glided over me confidently, knowing exactly where to press, where to just brush. Shoulders, shoulder blades, sides, they touched me as if they had known my body for a long time, as if yesterday's game was just a prelude.

And after the first few seconds, I knew one thing:

This was not going to be an ordinary massage.

It was going to be a trial and I wasn’t sure at all if I wanted to win it.

Their hands didn't stop. Their movements were slow, confident, deliberate.

They massaged me like two professionals, but what they were doing had nothing to do with relaxation. I could feel it in every touch, it was a massage designed to break control, not restore it.

Their fingers glided over my sides, went down low to my hips, then returned to my shoulder blades. They knew how to confuse me, sometimes pressing harder, sometimes barely touching me. A game on the edge, exactly the kind I liked to play myself. Except now I was on the other side.

Suddenly, both hands moved lower, simultaneously.

My buttocks.

They massaged them slowly, confidently. They spread them apart, stroking them from the inside, sliding their fingers along the crack, but without going too deep. Not yet.

My breathing quickened involuntarily. I could feel my cock pressing harder and harder into the mattress. I was so damn hard.

Their hands moved lower, to my thighs. But not the outer ones. The inner ones.

Their fingers slipped between my thighs and the bed, massaging the inside of my thighs, teasing, grazing my scrotum, approaching the hole. Accidentally. Seemingly accidentally. But every movement was precise.

I clenched my fingers on the sheets.

My stomach was already rippling with tension.

"I wonder how long he'll last," one of them whispered. I don't know which one. They were both close. Their voices mingled. Their breaths too.

My eyes were closed, but the whole world was focused on one point:

their fingers, my thighs, the tension between where they were and where they hadn't entered yet.

I moaned softly. I couldn't help it.

And then I realized that I wasn't the only one in this game.

They felt it too. And they both began to lose themselves in it.

I could feel their breaths. Warm, short, increasingly ragged.

But what I felt next surpassed everything.

Something hard moved between my buttocks. Smooth, slippery, like an extension of their hands. But they weren't hands. They were their cocks.

They rubbed against my skin, sliding over it in oil, once on one side, once on the other.

They didn't say a word.

They didn't have to.

Their bodies spoke for them, full of tension, anxiety, that male need to win even in the most fucked-up game.

One of them moved so that the entire length of his cock slid between my buttocks, leaving a wet, sticky trail behind. The other did the same a moment later.

They were fighting for control over me... and over each other.

I heard their laughter, short, broken, filled with tension.

"We're not even touching your cock..." Nick muttered, his voice hoarse with excitement. "And you're going to cum anyway."

I didn't answer. I clenched my fingers tighter on the sheets, my hips twitching on their own.

I was already on the edge.

And then I felt more.

One finger at a time. They slid into me simultaneously.

Not deep, just enough to blow me up from the inside.

Their fingers moved slowly, rhythmically.

I was trembling all over. My stomach was heaving. My breath was ragged, as if in panic.

Every movement of their bodies on my ass, every entry of a finger, pushed me a millimeter further out of control.

And suddenly I realized that I couldn't hold on.

That I was about to let go. That I was going to lose.

But there was nothing I wanted more.

It wasn't a moment.

It was a wave that came suddenly and without warning.

My whole body tensed as if someone had pulled an invisible string. My hips lifted slightly off the mattress, my breath caught halfway through an inhalation, and a sound escaped my throat that I didn't even try to hold back.

"Fuck..."

Their fingers were still inside me. Their cocks were still sliding over my ass.

And that's when I let go.

I lifted myself heavily on my elbows, my chest heaving violently, my heart pounding like crazy. My cock was throbbing, and a long, shiny thread, sticky and unmistakable, stretched from its tip. Precum, thick, betrayed me completely.

There was a second of silence.

Then I felt their hands pull back. They took a step back to see the effect of their work.

"Well, Matt?" Ryan said, with a smile that was more pride than mockery. "Looks like a tie."

Nick snorted softly, looking down at me.

"We barely touched you... and we still broke you."

I was breathing heavily. Slowly. I was recovering, still feeling the tremors in my thighs, my stomach, my spine. I looked at them both, tense, tough, satisfied.

And instead of frustration... I felt something completely different.

"If this is what losing looks like..." I thought, licking my lips.

"...then I don't know if I want to win at all."

And they already knew that this game was just getting started.

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