The door slammed shut.
He was already on the bed—hat on, harness tight, rubber cock sheath throbbing between his legs like a promise soaked in sweat and sin. His ass? Gaped and leaking, already stuffed with three lube-slick fingers, twisting inside as if prepping for a gangbang no one could walk away from dry.
Adventures of The Cocky Cowboy: Cumdump on Overdrive – Adventures of the Cocky Cowboy – Gay Sex Story by Maxwell Alexander – Presented by Duncan Avenue Studios
The first cock was inside him before the guy fully stepped into the room.
He didn’t look up. Just moaned, cheeks spread wide, hole swallowing dick like it was hungry and knew the menu. The slap of hips on ass filled the air. Another cowboy entered and went straight for the mouth—fisting his own cock, slapping it across Cocky’s open lips before pushing in deep, burying it to the base like he owned the space behind those tonsils.
Cum already leaked from Cocky’s ass—not lube. Not pre. Full-on, sloppy, anonymous loads from earlier visitors. The moment one man came, another replaced him, pushing cum deeper inside him, stirring it, mixing it, making more.
A third cowboy straddled his chest and beat his cock while watching that overstretched hole gape and pulse, slick with seed, shiny under the glow of the bed lamp. He aimed for Cocky’s lips and shot his load directly onto his tongue. Cocky didn’t blink—just smiled with glazed eyes and swallowed, asking with his throat for more.
There were hands in his mouth. Fingers in his hole. Tongues on his neck. One guy stuffed his fist in next to his cock and whispered, “Open wider, Cowboy.” He did.
They took him in pairs, in waves, in rhythms that made time stop. He was spit-roasted on the edge of the bed, cum pouring from both ends. One cowboy held him open, watching it all leak out just to shove it back in with three fingers and a brutal grin.
There was so much cum. It ran in thick globs down his thighs, soaking into the black silk sheets, slicking the rubber sheath until it dripped like it was sweating. Guys pulled out to unload directly onto his hole, using it as a cum bowl, then slid back in, groaning as the warmth coated their cocks.
Every thrust made a wet shluck, every pull-out left his hole gasping open like it didn’t want to let go. And it didn’t. It wanted more. Always more.
No names. No talking. Just use.
One cowboy knelt behind him, spat once, and stuffed a fat cock in without warning. Another straddled his face, held his hat like reins, and rode his throat until he came. Cum dribbled from Cocky’s mouth and mixed with what leaked from his ass, making a pool beneath him on the satin sheets.
By the time the fifth load hit him—thick, hot, and deep inside—he was moaning without words, fingers clawing at the sheets, the cock sheath bouncing from every thrust. They didn’t stop. Didn’t ask. Just used, filled, pulled out, and watched their cum ooze out of him like honey from a broken hive.
And Cocky? He was made for this. A filthy, cum-filled vessel for the hung and the horny. His hole, still pulsing, was ready for the next.
The room reeked of sex. Cum streaked the walls, soaked the sheets, puddled on the floor. Cocky’s hole was gaping, twitching from hours of abuse, drooling seed like a used-up breeding bitch, and yet—he still wanted more.
No, needed more.
He crawled into the center of the bed, dripping, rubber sheath shiny and dripping from the tip. He straddled the thickest cowboy in the room—a beast of a man, body built like he wrestled bulls for breakfast. His cock stood tall, glistening, pulsing with need. Cocky lowered himself down, slow but steady, his ruined hole wrapping around that slab of meat like it had a purpose. It did.
The stretch made him cry out, but he rode it like a pro—bouncing, twisting, grinding down until his cheeks slapped against the cowboy’s thighs. Cum from earlier loads leaked around the shaft, coating it, splattering onto the sheets with each drop of his ass.
But he wasn’t done.
A second cowboy—just as big, just as ready—climbed onto the bed behind him. Cocky barely had time to brace himself before the second cock pressed against his already full hole. “Fuck yes,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder with a filthy grin.
And just like that, it slid in.
The double-stretch was brutal, exquisite. His ass opened like it was born for this, the two cocks grinding together inside him, stuffed so deep he could barely breathe. But he still moaned—deep, guttural, animalistic—because it was exactly what he wanted.
And then the third stepped up.
He grabbed Cocky by the chin, tilted his head, and shoved his cock down his throat like it belonged there. And it did. His balls slapped against Cocky’s chin while his throat flexed and worked around every inch. Spit ran down his neck. His moans were muffled now, his whole body trembling with fullness.
Three cocks.
One hole stretched to its absolute limit, another throat stuffed deep and brutal.
And then—they came.
All at once.
The cowboy underneath bucked hard, cock exploding inside Cocky’s gut, balls pressed tight against his ass. The one behind groaned, holding him down while he flooded him with load after load, cum spurting out around both shafts, pouring out of his ruined hole like overflow.
And in his mouth—hot, thick cum blasted down his throat, gagging him as he swallowed desperately, tears in his eyes, drool and seed dripping from his lips.
Cocky didn’t move.
He just took it.
Hole clenching, throat swallowing, body shaking, completely full—filled from every angle until the only thing left to do was collapse onto the soaked sheets and ooze.
He smiled, still leaking from both ends.
His fantasy?
Fulfilled.
But the night?
Far from over.
He was still open. Still leaking. Still in that dazed, cock-drunk state that only hours of being used could create. But even with cum sliding down his thighs, his greedy hole twitching from overuse, he wasn’t done.
He wanted to be wrecked.
The knock at the door was slow, deliberate. It creaked open, and in stepped Daddy—thick beard, thick build, thicker cock swinging low between muscled thighs. He wore a tank stretched tight across a chest like a damn wall, and the heavy scent of leather and sweat rolled in with him.
In his hand? A massive bottle of fisting lube.
“Time to stretch that pussy proper,” he growled, setting the bottle down like a holy relic.
Cocky was on all fours already, hole still open, lips glistening, pulsing. Daddy dropped to his knees behind him, spit in his palm, and gave that hole a testing slap—just to hear the slap of wet skin.
Then he poured the lube. Not a squirt—a waterfall. Cold at first, then warm as he worked it in, palm sliding across Cocky’s ass, thumb teasing the rim. The slick slid down to his balls, pooling beneath him.
And then Daddy went in.
One finger. Two. Three. All at once. Cocky gasped, back arching, but Daddy didn’t stop. He pushed deeper. Four fingers. His hand turned. The rim flared. And with one slow, steady push, his entire fist sank in.
Cocky screamed—into the pillow, into the mattress, into the ether. His hole swallowed that fist like it was made for it, muscles twitching as Daddy twisted his wrist, knuckles grinding against his inner walls.
Daddy’s thick cock hung heavy, leaking pre onto the floor as he worked that ass like a sculptor—slow, deep pumps, twisting, turning, pulling back to the wrist then plunging again. The lube squelched loud, dripping from Cocky’s ass with every punch. It was obscene. It was divine.
Cocky could barely form words—just moaned, drooled, begged with his body. His hole opened, accepted, pulsed around that hand like it wanted to keep it forever.
And Daddy?
Daddy grinned. “Such a good boy. Look how deep you take me.”
He fisted harder.
Faster.
Bounced his palm off that sloppy, well-trained hole like he was mixing batter in the cowboy’s guts. And still—that thick, veiny cock hung low, dripping, swaying with every thrust.
Finally, Daddy pulled his fist out—pop—and aimed his cock straight at that gaping, wrecked hole. No hesitation. Just one brutal plunge, balls to hole in a single motion.
And Cocky lost it.
That cock filled every inch the fist had softened. Daddy held his hips, pounded hard, deep, primal. Cocky moaned like a whore possessed, hole clenching and fluttering, stretched and slick, barely able to hold him.
And then—Daddy grunted.
Cock swelled.
Balls tightened.
And he creamed that stretched-out pussy, load after load gushing into the cum-stuffed cavern of Cocky’s hole. It leaked out immediately, creamy white and lube-slick, running down his thighs like a damn river.
Cocky collapsed.
Used.
Fisted.
Flooded.
And smiling.
Because this? This was what he was made for.
