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Nick then closes the refrigerator door and is distracted by a noise coming from the living room. He walks to the room and scans it with his eyes. The crackling noise echoes again and he sighs when he realizes it was the plant branch brushing against the balcony glass. He walks with firm steps over there and closes the sliding door, and the sound of the movement ends up being louder than the bedroom door creaking and closing with a dry, soft click. Nick frowns and goes to the room, opens the door, and stares at the silent room. The window was also open and the wind had blown inside and closed the door gently. He sighs and shuts the window forcefully, irritated, without noticing the silhouette that crossed the living room right behind him.
The pajamas are thrown onto the bed lazily. He chooses a set of his boyfriend's gym shorts, a large t-shirt from some random band, and grabs a towel from the cabinet beside it and gets into the shower. Running water streamed along with the sweet foam of conditioner. With his chin raised and eyes closed, he enjoyed the silence and the sound of the shower to calm his tired mind after a terrible shift, until the noise of the bathroom door opening made him open his eyes and turn off the shower quickly. He pulls the towel and dries his face, then opens the glass sliding door to the side, staring at the bathroom door, which was ajar. He swears he had closed it. He swears there wasn't enough wind inside the bathroom to open the door.
With his heart racing, Nick then steps out of the shower stall, wearing only the large pajama t-shirt and with wet hair. He opens the bathroom door and stares at the living room...
Nothing.
There was absolutely nothing there that could have opened the door. He bites his lip and steps carefully on the floor and is startled by the kitchen phone ringing. It was ridiculous, it was the exhaustion, it was the desire to sleep... it was thinking like this that he crossed the kitchen and answered the phone.
"Hey, babe... I wanted to know if you've gotten home yet?"
"Hm... I answered the phone, so yes, or it's someone else talking to you..."
Nick's boyfriend laughs on the other end of the line.
"I'm going to be a little late, you know. Traffic is shit and my class ended late. But we can watch a movie as soon as I get there, what do you think?"
Nick was going to answer when the kitchen and living room lights went out and, technically, the phone went silent.
"Will?" Nick looks around, his breathing becoming ragged from the sudden darkness. He puts the phone back on the hook and goes to the breaker box in the hallway and tries to fiddle with it, turning the switches on and off, but no luck. Nick then searches for a flashlight in the kitchen cabinet drawers, and when he finds it, the round white light illuminates the kitchen furniture and he turns with the flashlight and points it at the bedroom door, which opens by itself.
Then Nick sees on the other side of the bed, the perfect silhouette of someone a man, a thing, whatever it was... it was watching from where it stood. The sounds of his breathing became gasps and the flashlight betrayed his trembling, and when he thought about running to the door, strong arms grabbed his waist, lifting his feet off the floor, and Nick's mind realized there were two of them.
Nick struggled against that grip and barely noticed that he was thrown onto the bed however they could, and the bedroom door was slammed shut and the leather-gloved hand of the second intruder turned the latch. Nick stared for seconds at the first intruder tall, wearing dirty gray coveralls and an expressionless latex mask. The eye holes were darkened. In his left hand, held firmly, a machete over 20 centimeters long gleamed because of the light coming from the open window that Nick had closed.
He says nothing. He can't even find the strength to say anything while staring at that pointed blade directed at his face. The second intruder moves, his steps muffled by boots, and turns on the lamp. The yellow light reveals his white ghost mask, as if it were an expression of an infinite scream. The deformed eyes froze Nicholas's stomach as he watched not only the movements but the curved-tip knife the man carried. Nick swallows dry, his racing heart making his ragged breathing escape from his dry lips, and he gathers all his courage to say something...
"I-I have a boyfriend... he'll be here soon, he has a gun, so if you leave now, i swear i won't call the police." Pathetically, Nick pronounces each faltering word while watching the movement of the second intruder wearing a black robe. "I-if you want money, we have a safe behind the painting, i can open it for you-"
Nick is silenced by the first movement of the intruder in the white latex mask.
His large hand grabs Nick's wet hair and drags him to the center of the mattress. His long, tattooed legs kicked against it and all he got was having his head sunk into the pillow as a form of submission. The intruder in the scream mask merely watches the larger one hold Nick, who was struggling, and seeing that he couldn't control him alone, he just turns his face so slowly and Nick watches the other intruder being looked at. The seconds of the next movement make Nick's heart clench. The intruder in coveralls climbs onto the bed on his knees and pulls him by the ankle. The second climbs onto the bed, hooks his arms under Nick's armpits, and pulls him up. Everything happens so fast that Nick can only catch the unusual smell of the clothing, feel the cold of the blade against his arm and how it gleamed near his face, sharp as the cold of that night.
"Please..." Nick chokes out, not knowing which of the knives to look at. The kitchen machete was lowered and placed aside so that the intruder in the white latex mask could hold his legs firmly. The touch of the calloused palms was rough and Nick shivers at it. "Please... just don't hurt me..."
Nick gets no answer from either of them. He also can't predict their movements or know what they want. He is between the two of them, scared and cold-sweating, in the middle of the bed sunk with the weight of all three, and all he feels is an immense urge to scream, and when he does, the large hand of the coverall intruder silences him. The sudden approach leaves Nick in panic more panic than the grip he received from the one behind him.
He sees between those dark spaces of the eyes a small sadistic glint, and the loud, rough breathing leaves a mark on his face. The tip of the chin of the scream mask presses hard against his shoulder and Nick has them both frozen, until his lungs tire of screaming against that warm palm pressing on his lips, and his eyes alternate between the black spaces of the mask.
It took a good few minutes until the hand peeled away from his mouth and the space was filled by nothing but gasps...
Nicholas then has both intruders as statues, just staring at him. Maybe they were waiting for something, or maybe they had heard something, maybe Will had arrived, he doesn't know... despair takes over when the hands of the coverall intruder touch his knees, covering that area, and slide up with a fluid and slow gesture where Nick witnesses the details of the t-shirt hem folding when the fingers reach there and his round, tattooed thighs are exposed. Nick keeps his eyes there, until the hands stop rising, leaving a confused expectation in his heart.
What did he want with that? To leave him exposed, but not too much? Nick studies the next movements picking up the machete, pressing the cold tip against his throat, which holds back the reflex to swallow and feels the skin being pressed against the tip of the object. Nick also notices that the intruder in front of him wasn't looking directly at him, but at the second one right behind.
The grip between them is slowly released. Maybe the two guys were studying Nick to see if he would run if the grip became too loose, but when nothing happens, that's when the gloved hands grab his small breasts over the t-shirt fabric, and what happens next startles Nick.
A high-pitched moan escapes his throat when those gloved hands massage his breasts forcefully, squeezing and kneading with curiosity, and the tip of the machete blade still pressed against his neck, causing a slight but irritated wound, and Nick bites his lower lip as his nipples are pinched over the fabric. The intruder in the scream mask pulls at the same time, twists, and circles with his fingertips, leaving them harder and harder, and Nick loses himself with the adrenaline of fear running through his veins and arousal descending between his legs.
It seemed the next order came from the gaze of the intruder in front of him, who looked more like a statue, keeping the machete firmly directed at Nick's trembling throat only now it wasn't to keep him still. Nick's arms hung at each side like jelly while he shamefully moaned from having his breasts massaged so invasively.
Nick tries to keep his mind on the surface of sanity and tries not to get distracted by the stimuli received from those strange hands, feeling the heat run beneath his skin like worms crawling, but it was impossible. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds back a loud moan when the twists become strong enough to burn that erogenous area.
The second intruder startles him with the quick movement of pulling the tip of the machete away from his neck and directing it to the middle of his legs, and all that fire caused by the stimuli disappears and gives way to an absurd cold.
"No... no, please... no..." In a hoarse voice, Nick pleads as the tip approaches closer and closer to the middle of his legs, but he doesn't move to push it away, and his throat goes dry when the tip of the blade goes below the t-shirt fabric, which is lifted enough to see the silver point piercing the fabric, and when it goes through, the sound of the tear cuts through Nick's mind, and the hands that had been squeezing his breasts grab each piece of the t-shirt and take advantage of the tear made by the machete and finish ripping it.
Nick sees the fabric being split in two and his body being exposed so quickly that all he can see is how his stomach rises and falls at an absurd speed, and this hyperventilation would lower his blood pressure. When the t-shirt opens from the invasion, Nick feels the cold and at the same time the redness left on his nipples and how hard they still were...
The two intruders stand still. Were they analyzing, appreciating, feeling, listening, were they enjoying all of it? Nick doesn't know.
All he feels is a great shame at being stared at, measured, studied by those cold, colorless eyes. Nick, by instinct or from the cold, slowly brings his knees together, and the hand of the latex-masked intruder grabs to stop him. He pushes the knee in the opposite direction with the other hand, pulls his leg by the ankle, and Nick squeezes his eyes shut, from shame, when he smells the musky scent of the liquid that shamefully dripped from his opening...
The second intruder makes himself present and returns now with the same mission as before holding both of Nick's breasts as if offering them to the white-masked intruder and Nick's cheeks flush and he closes his eyes, turning his face to the side, embarrassed.
The next movements are slow, with a slight touch of care in the way his breasts are massaged, how the soft flesh stayed between the gloved fingers, and Nick's lips part for a hoarse moan to escape. The white latex-masked intruder braces on his knees and drops the machete beside him, and Nick follows the thick fingers going to the collar of the coveralls, grabbing the zipper and pulling it down with an agonizing slowness that the sound becomes more present than his agonizing breathing. Nick sees the revelation before his eyes say that even his despair, his breasts being squeezed and held that way aroused the intruder, who now pumped his own member while watching the second intruder give him a show.
Nick lost himself in that vision of the thick member, with veins, with a head swollen to the point of being purplish, of the pre-cum dripping and wetting his fingers, drying his throat and consequently letting a moan escape at the thought of what was to come.
The intruder behind him adjusts himself better, and Nick even forgets that there's a guy with a huge cock masturbating in front of him when the gloved fingers of the second intruder slide across his stomach, cross that tuft of pubic hair, and begin a massage on his own cock, and Nick sinks into pleasure, melting into the arms that held him firmly.
"Ahn... please..." Nick doesn't know where that came from. Those words were born in his lungs, rose through his throat, and escaped his lips, and all he feels is a wave of electric pleasure running through his body at having his swollen clit stimulated so roughly, while his left breast was held firmly.
The latex-masked intruder increased the back-and-forth of his own wrist, and the second intruder's hand consequently accelerated the masturbation on Nick, following the rhythm of the other guy's hand, and that made Nick's mind explode.
"Ahn... please... no..." Nick murmurs and begins to squirm in the other's lap. "Please..."
With clenched eyes, eyelashes wet from endless agony, Nick babbles those words that come out wobbly, and he chokes when the gloved fingers enter without asking permission inside him and begin a spine-tingling back-and-forth. Nick moans and loses his mind watching two gloved fingers enter and exit his hot, wet pussy. The intruder spreads his own liquid all over that area and slaps his pussy two and three times before returning to massage his cock quickly, leaving an agony rising behind his thighs, a cold thread taking over, and when least expected, Nick comes with the speed of that nameless guy's fingers.
The scream-masked intruder delivers two slaps on his wet pussy, prolonging his arousal in putting on a show for the other guy who held the swollen cock. Nick then raises his limp arm, stretching it back in an arc, and the two stand still. The movement ends with Nick's hand holding the black robe and his face rising, lips open, panting with a lust-drunk gaze, and he pulls the intruder's neck forward and the bed creaks. Nick manages to reach the lips on the intruder's chin, beneath the mask, and inhales his strong smell of sweat, and he deposits a dry kiss, licks the curve of the chin, and tries to bite when his body is pulled down and a cry of surprise escapes, and the white latex-masked intruder slaps his face hard.
One, two, and three times in a row. Then he delivers a slap to one of his breasts that bounces, and grabs Nick's chin possessively and forces him to look at him. Nick's hair becomes disheveled, some strands caught between the intruder's fingers and his chin, and Nick chokes on a sob from the attack. He feels the salty taste of pre-cum and sticks his tongue out, touching the calloused palm of the intruder with the tip.
A finger slides into Nick's hot mouth and he closes his eyes, beginning a sucking motion, a back-and-forth that paralyzes the intruder, who shows he wasn't expecting that... The intruders look at each other while Nick sucks the index finger and then the thumb with a hunger that leaves the latex-masked intruder breathing heavily.
The second intruder then takes the other's hand from Nick's mouth and guides it so that the fingers close around his neck, and Nick opens his eyes, widening those bright emeralds. The suffocating sounds make the breathing surpass the mask and reach Nick's ears they were heavy, rough sounds that scratched his brain, and Nick inflates his chest and his back detaches from the other intruder's chest, and he moves his head right and left, adjusting the grip in a way that lets him get a little oxygen.
"M-more..." Nick catches himself saying, escapes between the grip, then sounds somewhat untranslatable, and if they weren't wearing masks, the eyes of both would show an animal glint. "Harder..."
Nick closes his eyes when he gets what he wants and moans, holding the other intruder's neck so hard, and with his free hand, the wrist of the intruder in front of him, as if he wanted to fuse those two bodies into his and come with the possibility.
But everything stops when his neck is released and a new slap is delivered hard, followed by another and one more, and the intruder behind grabs Nick's face by the chin, and the coverall intruder's hand stops in the air, mid-way through a thousandth slap.
A red mark almost in the shape of a palm appears on both cheeks. The narrowed eyes now let tears escape, and Nick had his lips pressed together, his breathing making his chest tremble, and the scream-masked intruder lowers his head. He whispers something inaudible, muffled by the mask, and Nick responds between trembling lips, and the intruder raises his face to the coverall-wearing partner in front of him and nods.
That's when the hand comes down hard and the slap echoes through the room and Nick trembles. A slap is delivered to his pussy, to his thighs, and Nick sees himself red and marked.
The second movement doesn't say things are over. Nick is grabbed by the ankle and pulled lower. He fights, holds onto the fabric of the black robe of the intruder behind him, who pulls his hand to free it, and he is turned on the bed, ending up face down against his will.
"Please... this is already too much." Nick says, trembling, staring at the open legs of the intruder who had been behind him moments ago. "Please..."
Nick feels the warm hands of the coverall intruder grab his waist firmly, forcing him to brace on his knees and raise his hips in the air. His buttocks are grabbed with force and obsession, and Nick hides his face in the mattress to prevent the humiliation from being pleasurable for the intruder in front of him, but the pull he receives on his hair prevents that escape, and the knife that had been forgotten now pressed against his throat again, and Nick has his head stretched back and the blade pressed harder and harder. His eyes open when he feels it slide along the cartilage of his trachea, hinting at an act of throat-cutting, and this accelerates his heart rate. He looks down, seeing the gray gleam, and squeezes his eyes shut. Tears stream uncontrollably down his hot face, marked by the slaps.
The scream-masked intruder opens his legs, stretches them as if they belonged there, and his hands, which had been still, with an agile and no-nonsense manner like the coverall guy's, unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, releasing his hard, curved cock. Nick can quickly compare it wasn't as big and not as thick, but it would do a fine job of damage if used well and his throat returns to the thirst stimulus. He swallows and feels the blade scrape against his skin, and when he thinks he would be watching a masturbation show, that's when his head is pushed forward hard, his body going with it, and he has his face buried in Ghostface's groin.
Nick exhales that strange, acidic smell of sweat, feels the accumulation of hair prickling his nostrils. However, somehow he wants more, so he finishes sinking in by his own will while his arms were pulled back, wrists crossed and held firmly.
The Halloween killer positions himself so that his thighs now rub against the round buttocks and slaps the left one. The crack of the palm against the burning skin makes Nicholas moan and roll his eyes, taking the opportunity to rub his nose against Ghostface's sweaty balls, who grabs a handful of strands and pulls up, and brings the masked face closer. Nick sees, through the mask, the brown eyes glinting, and the cracking sound of Michael Myers's palm echoes again, drawing out a hoarse moan and pushing Nick's body forward. He does it again, and again, massages, slides the palm over the feverish area, and slaps again, until his wrist tires and the flesh shows itself alive.
Nicholas feels the tears streaming uncontrollably down his red, sweaty cheeks. Ghostface's gloved hand holds his own cock by the base and swings it like a mast and gives a fine pull up and down, and his breathing escapes through the opening of the mask's mouth. He releases the hair to hold Nick's face, who had drooping eyelids and eyes full of lust. He brings his face close to Nick's ear, and seconds later, Nick nods, and that's when his mouth is forced open by the gloved thumb and his head is forced down at the same time that his lips are traced by Ghostface's swollen, pre-cum-wet head.
Nick moans at the sharp taste and has his mouth full of cock as he is forced to swallow it whole, and it happens without ceremony, because his hands are tied by a single hand and his body is pushed forward by the Halloween killer, who rubbed his fat cock between the red buttocks like a good reverse titfuck. Nicholas rolled his eyes every time his nose sank into that hair. His head was held in a brutal way that prevented his neck from rising in search of some relief, and Ghostface himself dictated the rhythm.
Lips stretched, face in complete degradation and detailed with strands of hair stuck to it, leaving a splendid and tenebrous sight that made Ghostface drool. The limit seemed to be when the tip of the cock was forced so far in that it crushed the gag reflex and Nick threatened to vomit. And even so, the masked man gave him no rest. He kept his face there, wedged to the throat, and by daring, slid his gloved finger over Nick's trachea, feeling the relief of the cylindrical shape, smiling at knowing where he had reached.
The Halloween killer breathed heavily while thrusting against Nick's buttocks without even penetrating him, holding his crossed wrists when the closed fingers open and the index and middle fingers slowly stretch and flex, and this happened at least twice in a row.
The white latex-masked man's hand grabbed a handful of Nick's hair and pulled his head up hard, and the sound of the cock sliding out echoed in an obscene pop mixed with a gasp as he caught his breath. Ghostface cradles his face with his hands and Nick blinks with difficulty. A lot of drool drips from his swollen lips and mixes with tears as it drips from his chin.
His chest rose and fell, resulting in noisy breathing. The index and middle fingers of the left hand imitate the previous signal, and the Halloween killer's hand that held his hair sinks his face into Ghostface's chest, as if throwing his useless body there, and he was held firmly. His legs were positioned and his thighs slapped, drawing out hoarse moans, and Nick feels the rough gloved hand slide across his cheek. He closes his eyes as the strands of hair are tucked behind his ear, and when he thinks that would be the most touch he could bear, his eyes dazzle at the blade again.
Ghostface presses the tip of the blade against Nick's cheek and slides it until it's between his lips, and with the side of the cut, he fits it into the corner of his mouth, forcing slightly there, as if he wanted Nick to smile...
Then he does, feeling behind his left thigh the cold shiver of the tip of the kitchen machete going down and up as if they were stroking cat fur. They play with Nick for a few seconds, reminding him that they could cut him to death if they wanted to, and it's with this reminder that Nick does what they ask, without them even uttering a single word.
The Halloween killer drops the knife and finds it interesting to grab Nick's buttocks with both hands, opening and closing them, leaving him exposed in an absurdly humiliating way, and Nick closes his eyes at the cold air he feels passing through those areas. His thighs twitch when he feels a thick finger circle the area of his wrinkled entrance. He also gasps at the sudden, dry intrusion and shakes his head from side to side...
"Please... please..."
Ghostface's face rises a few centimeters, as if seeking the gaze of the Halloween killer, who threatens to shove his thick index finger into Nicholas's hole. Then the hand is directed below the mask and Nick hears a spitting sound and then something cold and wet dripping onto his buttocks and his entrance. Nick hides his face in Ghostface's chest, who slowly directs his face down until the tip of his member, wet with cum and saliva, parts his swollen lips and he has his face fucked again.
Nick tries to focus on the heavy member, rubbing his tongue along the nerve band, and squeezes his eyes shut as he feels more spit being spread over his entrance. His head spins from having to give attention to a huge cock reaching his throat, and he feels his thighs getting wet from his own cum as he contracts, and he hears a hoarse moan that could be compared to a growl coming from behind. He contracts once or twice he will never remember how many times he did it and the masked man growls with arousal, grabs his buttocks firmly, and pulls the mask up, revealing a bit of his chin that Nick can't see, too busy sucking Ghostface, but he can hear the horrendous sound of spit and his lips close around that circumference as he feels the thick finger enter without asking permission.
It burns in such a way that Nick moans tearfully, presses his lips together, and tries to squirm, but he can't go far, since the thumb sank mercilessly inside him only to pull and open him more and more. The Halloween killer pulls the finger out and inserts the index and middle fingers at the same time up to the third knuckle, and Nick cries wanting to raise his face, but being prevented by Ghostface's heavy hand that kept him still. It was as if the masked man's cock was a kind of gag for Nick, and this perception made his eyes roll. He couldn't suck it, so he was silenced, and this caused a strong clenching in his stomach, and Nick took advantage of his own cock contracting—his pussy also twitching—and let himself be stretched by three fingers that now entered and exited with ease.
When the Halloween killer was satisfied with the fourth finger inside Nick, stretching that swollen, red rim, he first pulls the four out and delights in Nick's entrance closing around nothing and contracting. His own breathing said he was losing control with that sight, and sweat dripped from his chin and stopped at his navel. His cock jumped every time Nick moaned with a full mouth and contracted.
It was a hot show.
Ghostface seemed to tire of having his cock moistened by saliva. He pulls Nick's face up to give him a few minutes of rest—or so Nick thought before having his face violently slapped, which drew out a sob. His chin is grabbed roughly and he can feel Ghostface's warm breath escaping through the mask's opening, and that's when the masked man's own hand rises a few centimeters from the mask, revealing only his mouth, leaving it crooked on his face. Nick stares at those lips with the little vision he has and his mouth goes dry again. His tongue sticks out and he audaciously licks the masked man's dry lips, who pulls his face and deepens the kiss. This was a signal for the Halloween killer to get what he wanted.
At first, it seemed like it wouldn't fit, but Nick makes an effort and focuses on the dry lips, swallowing it as the cock sinks in and passes the head line to halfway down the member, and the moan Nick lets out descends through Ghostface's throat. There is no rhythm, just an almost dry and painful impalement that burned but made Nick squirm his hips wanting more, wanting it to go to the bottom and reach his throat. The stretching left Nick's brains soft to the point of leaking out his ears, and the kiss became increasingly savage, with Ghostface's teeth holding his lower lip hard. Nick whimpers, his waist being held firmly while his hands, which had been mercifully released, supported his mediocre weight.
"Ahn... please... please... move..." Nick begs amidst the kiss, and all he receives is a slide of warm palms across his waist, thighs, and buttocks, and more slaps. Nick moans with an open mouth, lips perfectly in a beautiful round shape that made Ghostface's heart beat hard against his chest. The slaps were strong, pushing his body forward and giving him small electric shocks of anticipation—just illusions of when that guy would move, he would wreck him.
The mask comes down with a head movement and Ghostface releases Nick's face and adjusts himself on the bed, lying in a way that Nick has his chest crushed against his. Nick indulges in resting his whole body on the masked man's below him, to the point of lying down, and the Halloween killer's cock almost slides out. He thinks it would be like this he would be fucked from behind and could rub his clit against that dirty member and come until he passed out, then it would all be over.
But it wasn't quite like that.
Nick has his waist lifted he opens his eyes without knowing when he closed them and his pussy is prodded by a hard, hot cock. He widens his eyes and lets his agitated breathing escape while a warm gloved hand holds his torso to position himself better.
"Please, just get this over with..."
Nick can hear a laugh coming from below even though his breathing was loud.
"Please-"
Nick is silenced by being impaled at the same time. A hoarse, loud moan escapes his throat with the thrust from behind being as brutal as that cock that abused his swollen, wet pussy. Nick lays his face on Ghostface's shoulder, struggles to try to get out from between the two, but the invasion from behind is as hot and pleasurable as the thrusts in his pussy. His cock even rubs against Ghostface's groin, intensifying the arousal to a thousand, his eyes roll back into his skull, and all he does is accept being fucked by those two.
The room fills with rhythmic sounds of the bed rocking back and forth, of moans muffled by the robe, and of noisy breathing escaping from the masks. Nick drools, opens his legs more to have more access, and tries to grind on Ghostface's cock even as the Halloween killer's penis enters and exits mercilessly from his ass. There was a moment when Michael Myers buried himself to the bottom, until his balls slapped against Nick's thighs, and the masked man behind him pulls his waist down hard and Nick screams, being filled at the same time.
His left hand grabs the robe so hard it tears it. His breasts swayed from the brutal thrusts and Nick feels something inside him explode.
"I-I'm going to come... I'm going to come... I-ahn, don't stop... don't stop... don't!"
Nick's speech is cut off when the masked man beneath him lifts his waist a few centimeters to thrust in a quick sequence, causing the skin slapping to be so loud it surpassed the decibels of his screams.
Nick doesn't warn. He squeezes his eyes shut and his thighs tremble violently. The orgasm milks the cock buried in his ass in such a way that the Halloween killer growls and grabs his waist firmly to thrust even more to enjoy the involuntary tightness, while Ghostface continues thrusting hard, feeling the pussy contract more and more, and Nick's eyes squeeze shut. Tears streamed hard, his hand gripped the robe fabric, his jaw locked. Nick had no time to think about what had just happened. He was hypersensitized by the recent orgasm, and those two masked men demonstrated through their actions that they would ruin him even if he cried blood.
The Halloween killer startles Nick by pulling out so fast that his hole closes—but not completely. Then he opens Nick's buttocks firmly to leave him well exposed, and Nick dares to look over his shoulder with difficulty, his neck hurting from the position. Nick gasps and grinds, seeing the Halloween killer dig his nails into his buttock, and he understands it's a signal and contracts his swollen, abused entrance. He does it once or twice and lets a smile escape, and this makes the Halloween killer deliver a hard slap to his buttock. He hangs his head down, moaning with an open mouth close to the mouth of Ghostface's mask.
"More... fuck... fuck harder..." Nick asks between moans, his hair falling to the side like dark curtains, and Ghostface stretches his hand to slide the fingertips of the sweaty glove between his lips. There was a slight purple mark from the pressure of the blade. The thumb slides right over that spot and Nick smiles, wets his lips, and chases Ghostface's fingers.
The round extends until Nick can no longer feel anything from the waist down. He opens his knees, lets his body be taken forward and back by Michael Myers, lets Ghostface raise and lower his waist as he pleases. He throws his head back and lets the hoarse moans escape his throat and grinds on those enormous cocks until he feels weak, and that's when something inside him tightens, right in his stomach. He thinks it's a second orgasm, so he doesn't warn. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets it happen. A scream escapes his throat a strange scream accompanied by a hoarse moan from Ghostface and the Halloween killer feels through the thrusts that he was being pushed out of that body. Nick ejaculates hard, a liquid bathing all of Ghostface's waist, and it seems to have no end.
"Ahn... fuck, yes..." Nick hears one of them say, but he wouldn't know which one, since his mind had gone to space. He returns to being impaled mercilessly, and even after having ejaculated, he is fucked harder, as if they wanted to extract more from him, and they succeed. Nick raises his waist and a jet squirts from his pussy with force.
"Ahn... please... please... i can't take it anymore..." Nick says, but he doesn't stop grinding, doesn't stop wanting to be impaled both from behind and from the front. He doesn't know which of the cocks he wants. He's so full that he grabs Ghostface's gloved hand and shoves two fingers into his mouth. He pulls the Halloween killer's hand and fits it to his throat. He wants so much, the despair is attended to, and Nick has a cock in his pussy or ass, a hand squeezing his throat to the point of cutting off his breathing, and two fingers shoved down his throat.
It's as if his brain had been removed, blended in a blender, and put back for someone to drink with a straw.
"Please... I'm going to come...i can't take it anymore, I can't take it anymore..." Nick says, desperate, hoarse, without the strength to say anything coherent, so it's comfortable to repeat, but his hand pulls the Halloween killer's coveralls by the arm so that his sweaty chest stuck to Nick's sweaty back and the weight consequently made the cock in his ass sink deeper. With a hoarse moan, he lies on Ghostface and lets himself be crushed, be taken to another dimension...
"Come inside... please... fill me with cum... I can't take it anymore..." Nick babbles, and with that, the Halloween killer touches Ghostface's shoulder, who consequently holds Nick's face. The index finger taps twice on the cheek and Nick opens his eyes and looks through the mask. "Yes, I want it, I need it... please... inside, I want it..." Nick presses his sweaty forehead against the mask and moans softly in Ghostface's ear, who was thrusting hard. He wraps his arms and holds his body while thrusting, while Michael Myers thrusts hard to the point of moaning against the mask.
Nick didn't know when, but the Halloween killer came first. He impales himself in Nick and fills him with cum, but doesn't pull out. He holds there with his own cock that slowly goes flaccid. The roar through the mask makes Ghostface's eyes squeeze shut and he can't hold back, knowing that Nick's ass was full of sperm, and it's with this vision that he comes inside Nick.
It's hot. It's a supernatural pleasure to have the cum dripping from his pussy while still being fucked, and Nick can no longer moan, so all he does is breathe heavily, rub against those cocks. The Halloween killer sadistically pulls out of Nick and opens his buttocks to see his masterpiece drip from that hole, and when the masked man moves his waist away, the Halloween killer can see the white cock of cum and more sperm dripping.
The horror show makes Nick's mind short-circuit. He stays silent for long minutes and neither of the perpetrators even does anything while Nick lies still, breathing through his mouth with difficulty. His heavy head rested between the curve of the neck and shoulder, and Nick could feel the burning of Ghostface's gloved hand touching his skin. He raises his face with difficulty. The index finger touches once, presses the cheek, and then touches again, as if following the rhythm of a song.
"Yes... i'm fine..."