Twenty minutes had passed since the changing booth's velvet curtain had last been fully closed, and the sounds drifting out of it had only grown louder and more obscene with every passing minute. The femboy cashier at the front counter, a lanky twink with visible hickeys on his neck and a name tag reading "Milo," was trying desperately to scroll through his phone and pretend he couldn't hear anything. But the store was small, the acoustics were unforgiving, and the dressing booths were only about thirty feet away.
"AHHH—FUCK—KOTA—RIGHT THERE—DON'T STOP—DON'T YOU DARE STOP—YOUR COCK IS SO DEEP—AHH—AHH—AHHH—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—YES—YES—HARDER—FUCK ME HARDER—AHHH—MMPH—YOUR HANDS—YOUR BIG STRONG HANDS—CHOKE ME—CHOKE YOUR GOOD BOY—AHHH—AHHH—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—OH GOD—OH GOD—I'M GONNA—I'M GONNA—AHHHHHHH—!"
Milo's face was bright red. He had turned his phone volume all the way up, but some cheap mobile game soundtrack was no match for the raw, unfiltered sounds of passionate, wall shaking sex. The moans were relentless, high pitched and desperate, punctuated by the rhythmic, meaty PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of skin slapping against skin and the occasional low, guttural growl from a deeper voice. The whole store smelled like sweat and sex and expensive perfume, and Milo was seriously considering quitting on the spot.
He stood up, pocketing his phone, and started walking toward the break room. He had earned his fifteen minutes. He had earned a whole hour. He had earned a lifetime of silence and peace and never having to listen to strangers fuck in a lingerie store ever again.
"Where do you think you're going?" A sharp voice cut through his escape. Milo turned to see his supervisor, a goth femboy named Vesper with dyed black hair, dark lipstick, and a perpetual scowl. He was wearing a skin tight vinyl dress that hugged his dramatic curves, his massive ass straining against the material, and his arms were crossed over his chest. "Those noises have been going on for twenty minutes. Go check it out."
Milo's face paled. "I don't want to. Please don't make me. I'll cover your shift next weekend. I'll clean the break room for a month. I'll do anything."
"Too damn bad," Vesper said flatly. "It's your job. I'm not doing it. Go. Now."
Milo dragged his feet across the plush carpet, each step feeling like a death march. The moans grew louder as he approached, the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP vibrating through the thin walls of the dressing booth. He reached the curtain, took a deep breath that smelled like sex and sweat and something musky, and pulled it open.
The scene inside was absolute devastation. The small changing booth looked like a war zone. Cum was everywhere. Thick white ropes were splattered across the mirrors, dripping down the glass in slow, sticky trails. The plush carpet was soaked in several places, the dark stains spreading outward from the center of the booth. The little padded bench was completely covered, a pool of the stuff collecting in the corner where someone had clearly been lying. A pair of sheer pink panties and a black string thong were discarded on the floor, both of them ruined, soaked through and tangled together.
In the center of the chaos, Kota had Theo pinned against the wall. Literally pinned. Theo's back was pressed flat against the mirrored surface, his legs wrapped around Kota's waist, his arms clinging desperately to Kota's broad shoulders. Kota's massive cock was buried to the hilt in Theo's ass, and he was fucking him with deep, powerful thrusts that made the mirror shake and Theo's body jolt with every impact. One of Kota's large hands was wrapped around Theo's throat, not squeezing hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make Theo's eyes roll back and his moans turn into broken, gasping whimpers.
Theo's body was a mess. His pale skin was flushed bright red from his chest to his cheeks, glistening with sweat. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead in damp strands. His tiny cocklet bounced against his stomach with every savage thrust, leaking a steady stream of precum. And his mouth was open in a constant, unending stream of slutty, incoherent moans.
On the floor, Sebastian was passed out cold. He was still wearing the black string panties, but they had been pulled halfway down his thighs, and his entire body was covered in cum. His face was streaked with it, his chest was painted with it, and a particularly thick glob was slowly sliding down his cheek toward his open, snoring mouth. He looked utterly wrecked, completely unconscious, and deeply, deeply satisfied.
But Theo was still very much awake. And he was making sounds Milo had never heard another human being make.
"AHH—AHH—AHH—KOTA—DARLING—YOUR COCK—IT'S SO BIG—IT'S SPLITTING ME OPEN—AHH—AHH—AHH—CHOKE ME HARDER—YES—YES—LIKE THAT—I'M YOUR GOOD BOY—YOUR SLUTTY LITTLE PRINCIPAL—AHH—FUCK—FUCK—FUCK—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—DEEPER—PLEASE—DEEPER—AHHH—I CAN FEEL IT IN MY STOMACH—YOUR FAT COCK IS IN MY STOMACH—AHH—AHH—AHH—DON'T STOP—DON'T EVER STOP—I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME FOREVER—AHH—AHH—AHH—MMPH—MMPH—YOUR HANDS—SO STRONG—CHOKING YOUR GOOD BOY—MAKING ME YOURS—AHH—AHH—AHH—I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN—I'M GONNA—I'M GONNA—AHHHHHHH—!"
Theo's words dissolved into pure, animalistic screams as another orgasm ripped through him. His tiny cocklet twitched and spurted weakly against his own stomach, adding to the mess already there. His hole clenched and fluttered wildly around Kota's thrusting cock, milking him with desperate, rhythmic pulses. But Kota didn't stop. He kept pounding, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision, the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP growing louder and faster.
"YES—YES—YES—MORE—DON'T STOP—FILL ME—FILL YOUR BOYFRIEND—BREED ME—AHH—AHH—AHH—I WANT YOUR CUM—I NEED YOUR CUM—PLEASE—PLEASE—PLEASE—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—KOTA—KOTA—KOTA—AHHHHHHHHH—!"
With one final, savage thrust, Kota buried himself to the hilt and came. His massive cock pulsed and throbbed inside Theo's stretched hole, flooding his insides with thick, heavy ropes of cum. Theo's entire body seized, a high, broken scream tearing from his throat as the warmth filled him completely. Cum immediately overflowed, leaking out around the thick base and dripping down Theo's thighs onto the already ruined carpet.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Milo finally found his voice, his hands flying up in shock. "YOU—YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! THE PRODUCT! THE CARPET! THE MIRRORS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH IT COSTS TO CLEAN THIS?! THIS IS GOING TO COME OUT OF MY PAYCHECK! MY SUPERVISOR IS GOING TO—"
Theo slumped to the floor, completely spent, his body sliding down the mirror and collapsing in a satisfied, trembling heap beside Sebastian. He was still leaking cum, his hole gaping and twitching, a peaceful, fucked out smile on his face. He was done. He was out.
Kota, however, was not done. His cock was still hard. Still throbbing. Still aching with the constant, insatiable pressure of his hyperspermia. And his eyes locked onto the lanky, wide eyed cashier standing frozen in the doorway. He reached out, grabbed Milo by the front of his uniform, and dragged him into the booth. The curtain swung shut behind them.