Slasher76/Lúcio – RAPE TW; choking; stink kink; rough fucking – Lúcio is camping in the woods. Slasher finds him.
In the sudden beginning – Lucio getting shocked out of a cozy sleep, hole still wet and achy after jerking and fingering himself to drowsiness earlier – he had still struggled and tried to cry out in alarm.
The only thing that little stunt had gotten him was a cock, musky and *smelly* shoved down his throat until he gagged, tears forming in his eyes and snot starting to run.
His assailant is quiet mostly. A huge, feverishly hot presence that only grunts occasionally as he gives it to Lucio in a way he‘s never had before.
He‘s stopped struggling quickly. Maybe he shouldn’t have – maybe he should have fought back more; but in the end it is easier to just go along with the abuse and let himself get fucked in a way that makes his teeth rattle but has his cock shamefully hard.
Lúcio is getting flung around just as the brute wishes; arranging him like nothing more than a ragdoll – a fuckdoll – for his amusement; and every now and then Lúcio can see the eerie glint of a jagged weapon to the side. Close enough to be grabbed within a heart beat and shoved deep into his squishy belly if he’s not cooperative enough, he is sure of it.
He gets flipped onto his belly, hips dragged up into the air until his knees lift off the floor and he has to brace himself on the balls of his feet. Help along in his own rape as the monstrous man mounts him like an animal.
Lúcio’s cock is swinging between his thighs, untouched and wet at the tip. His throat is burning from the rough, balls-deep fuck from earlier. He’d felt a sick mixture of abject relief and… disappointment when his assailant had come, shooting his thick, big load basically right into his belly as he made Lúcio choke on his unwashed dick.
It’s almost hilarious for him now how naive he had been to think that that would have been it. He does not think the man has even gotten soft before starting his rutting once more, balls obviously still full and ready to breed him some more.
Lúcio grunts when suddenly a heavy boot hits the back of his head. From what he could tell, the man hasn’t gotten undressed apart from opening his pants enough to get his fat cock out. He is even wearing an eerie mask that Lúcio tries not to look at. Dirt tickles against his cheek, and his eyes fill with tears from the pain, but he is distracted from it by the feeling of large, rough hands spreading his ass, and then the man’s cock pushing into him, blunt and careless, and using the meager bit of lubricant Lúcio had used earlier to jerk off.
Lúcio can’t breathe. It is like the man is fucking the air right out of his lungs as he starts laying into him without a care in the world, his boot keeping Lúcio down while his hard, unrelenting grip makes sure his victim is not slouching down onto his knees.
He’s hiccuping out weird sounds. He can’t tell himself whether he’s sobbing or moaning. His cock is still fat and distracting. It feels like a wound; overstuffed and more than ripe. He does not think he’s ever had sex with someone so wholly, deeply uninterested in his own pleasure.
He’s getting grunt fucked like an appliance – and that is what is happening; he’s started laying into him with sharp, irregular thrusts that have him grunt deep and guttural in his chest, mingling with Lúcio’s weird little squawks – and Lúcio feels like he’s in a fever dream.
When the man finally shifts his boot from Lúcio’s head, he feels… delirious. Out of it. The world is turning in circles around him, and getting flipped back onto his back is not helping.
His assailant is standing in front of him in an awkward half-crouch. He is way too tall to stand upright in Lúcio’s tent. He is so *broad*… he seems to be taking up all the available space.
He does not seem to feel Lúcio’s weight; he lifts him with a rough, uncaring grip at his ankles until Lúcio’s shoulders are barely still touching the floor, then shoves back into him; diving deep into the silky, hot insides he’s left just moments prior.
Lúcio gurgles but the man keeps quiet; his mask is staring down at him without expression, the eye holes glowing an eerie orange. Lúcio wants to say that it at least shocked his cock into softness, but still it is lying fat and needy against his belly, even as he gets his legs spread like a whore and his guts seemingly re-arranged by the large dick pumping into him.
Eventually, he is too fatigued to keep staring at the man and lets his head loll back. His abdomen feels as sickly stuffed as his cock does. He wonders if he’ll catch anything from this beast of a man; he certainly smells like he hasn’t seen water in a few weeks. (… And Lúcio does not know yet that in future he’ll needily sniff dirty underwear as he jerks off; that he can barely even get it up anymore without a thick, pungent cloud of odor around him.)
He stares blearily at the weapon the man has brought with him. He imagines him taking it into his big fist and putting it against Lúcio’s throat. Just a silent, menacing threat.
And suddenly, Lúcio comes, pathetic and whimpering, getting his belly hot and sticky with his own cum.
The man just keeps fucking him through it. If he noticed Lúcio’s shameful orgasm, he does not show it. Just keeps using up that warm little hole he’s found.
Cyberrat Writes 