The Night the Bulls and Their Crew Took Us Both

It started as “just another visit” from Jamal and Dre. But this time they brought friends—four more black kings, all built the same way: tall, thick, hung heavy, radiating that same quiet dominance that always made my stomach flip and my cage tighten. They called them their “crew.” We called them trouble.
Lila and I had talked about it in hushed, horny whispers for weeks. She wanted to be passed around like their little white toy. I wanted… fuck, I wanted to be used right alongside her. To feel what she felt. To be broken the same way.
They arrived after dark. No small talk. Jamal walked in first, clapped me on the shoulder like I was one of the boys, then pulled Lila into a deep kiss while the others filed in behind—Dre, Marcus, Ty, and two more whose names I barely registered because my eyes were glued to the bulges in their jeans.
They herded us straight to the bedroom. Lights low. Music thumping low from someone’s phone. Clothes came off fast—ours first. Lila stood there in nothing but thigh-highs, tiny and pale and already glistening between her legs. I was naked too, cock locked in its cage, dripping pre-cum onto the carpet.
Jamal pushed me to my knees. “You’re both getting it tonight, cuck. No favorites.”
They lined up. Five thick black cocks—dark, veiny, already hard and leaking—right in our faces. Lila dropped beside me, eager. We knelt shoulder to shoulder like good little sluts.
They fed us in turns. Jamal started with Lila, sliding his fat head past her lips while Dre took my mouth. The stretch was immediate—my jaw aching, throat burning as he pushed deeper than I thought possible. Spit ran down my chin. I gagged, tears streaming, but I didn’t pull away. Beside me, Lila was moaning around Marcus’s shaft, small hands stroking what she couldn’t swallow.
They switched. Ty fucked my face next—rougher, holding my head, using me like a fleshlight. I could hear Lila choking, slurping, begging for more. The room filled with wet sounds, low grunts, their dirty talk.
“These white mouths were made for BBC.”
“Look at the little husband taking it like a bitch.”
“Your wife’s throat is tighter than her pussy tonight.”
After they’d all had a turn in our mouths—leaving us both drooling, faces slick—they moved us to the bed.
Lila went on her back first. Two of them at once: Jamal in her pussy, Ty stretching her ass. She screamed in pleasure, body arching, nails raking someone’s back. I watched from my knees, helpless, until Dre grabbed me by the hair.
“Your turn, boy.”
They bent me over the edge of the bed, face inches from Lila’s. Marcus lubed me up rough—fingers first, then the blunt head of his cock. The burn was intense, white-hot. I gasped, gripping the sheets. He didn’t go slow. He sank in deep, bottoming out with one long thrust. I cried out—half pain, half something darker.
Beside me, Lila reached over, squeezed my hand while they railed us both. Our bodies rocked in rhythm—her getting double-penetrated, me getting my ass pounded mercilessly. The others took turns. Hands everywhere. Cocks swapping holes. Cum starting to leak from both of us.
They flipped us eventually. Lila rode Dre reverse cowgirl while Marcus fucked her mouth. I was on my back, legs spread wide, Ty buried balls-deep in my ass, stroking my caged cock just enough to torment me. Jamal stood over my face, fed me his balls while another stroked himself above us.
The finale was chaos.
They pulled out one by one, lined us up side by side on our knees again—Lila and me, faces up, mouths open. Five cocks jerked over us. Thick ropes started flying—hot, heavy spurts hitting our faces, chests, tongues. Some landed in our open mouths, some painted across Lila’s tits, some streaked my cheeks and forehead. We were drenched. Marked. Owned.
When they finished, the room went quiet except for heavy breathing. They dressed, laughed low, slapped our asses like we were good pets, and left.
Lila and I stayed on the floor a long minute, cum dripping from our faces, bodies trembling.
She looked at me—eyes glassy, smile wicked—and whispered, “Your turn to clean us both up.”
I started with her first—tongue on her swollen pussy, then her gaping ass, swallowing every drop they left inside. Then she guided my face to her cum-streaked tits, making me lick them clean.
When she was spotless, she pushed me onto my back. Straddled my chest. Scooped the mess from my own face—thick globs of their cum—and fed it to me finger by finger.
“Swallow what they gave you, baby,” she murmured. “Taste how much they used you.”
I did. Every bitter, salty drop.
Only then did she unlock my cage. She stroked me once—slow, teasing—and I came instantly, weak spurts mixing with the drying cum already on my stomach.
We collapsed together after, sticky, spent, completely ruined.
And we both knew: next time they’d bring even more friends.
Because once they’d had us both… there was no going back.