Pinewood Builders Ch. 07

I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, my head was pounding and my body aching in places I never knew could ache. The three of us were tangled together in bed. Wells was already awake, scrolling through his phone, while John snored softly at my other side.

"Morning," Wells whispered, his voice rough. "How you feeling?"

"Christ, my head feels like someone's taken a sledgehammer to it. And my arse isn't any better."

He chuckled, and set his phone down. "Same. At least John's got a comfortable bed though."

At his words - John stirred beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as his eyes opened. "Morning, lads," he mumbled.

Wells and I started laughing as we recalled Dave falling off his chair while John grunted and remained motionless, sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the light.

We pulled on our clothes.

"Wanna get breakfast with us John?" Wells asked.

John groaned. "Nah. I'm gonna sleep for another week. Fucking hell, I'm getting too old for this."

Wells snorted as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Lightweight."

"Fuck off," John mumbled, but there was no heat behind it. He didn't even remove his arm from his face. "Close the door on your way out."

We finished dressing and slipped out, John already drifting back to sleep as we closed his bedroom door. Downstairs, Wells gulped down a glass of water before handing me one, then pulled his shoes on.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the back garden. "Let's not walk all the way around. We can hop the fence at the bottom and cut across Baker's field. Save us twenty minutes." I followed him through the large lounge and out the back door.

The morning air hit us like a slap, and I had to squint against the brightness, my hangover protesting every step across the dew-dampened grass.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Never drinking that much again."

Wells laughed, "That's what you said last time, mate." He stretched his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up, "Besides, worth it, wasn't it?"

My face heated as fragments of the previous night flashed through my mind- me eagerly sitting on John's fat dick while Wells fucked him. Fuck.

"Yeah," I admitted. "It was."

Wells hopped onto the stone wall at the end of the garden, offering me his hand to help me up. I landed beside him with a grunt, before we jumped down into Barker's field. The tall grass brushed against our jeans, still wet with morning dew.

He fell into step beside me. His shoulder occasionally bumping mine as we walked in companionable silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

"So," I began, breaking the silence, "last night was crazy, wasn't it?"

Wells nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a glint of mischief. "Fuck yeah. It was pretty insane. Good time though."

"I might be walking funny for days," I laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement at the memories.

Wells slowed his pace, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You looked so fucking hot riding him like that. And, the way your face as it slid in..."

My breathing quickened as the vivid image flooded back. "Yeah? I dunno what came over me. I just did it."

He suddenly stopped walking, his eyes darkening with desire. "Speaking of just doing it..." He glanced around, quickly checking the field was deserted, then dropped to his knees in front of me, pulling open my trousers.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, though I didn't stop him.

"Helping with your hangover," he grinned up at me. "Best cure there is."

I hardened almost instantly under his gaze, and he wasted no time, his warm mouth enveloping me. He teased playfully at my foreskin, pulling it back with his lips before letting it slide forward again, his tongue darting underneath to trace the sensitive ridge. I groaned as his face bounced up and down my dick.

"Turn around," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Let me see what he did to you last night."

I hesitated for just a moment before turning and presented myself to him.

"Fuck, you're still a bit swollen," he murmured, his thumbs gently parting my cheeks. I felt exposed, vulnerable in the open air, but then his warm breath hit my sensitive skin and I forgot everything else.

"I can help with that," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Relax, I'll massage it better."

His tongue traced my entrance, gentle at first, then more insistent. I gasped, my knees nearly buckling as he began to properly tongue-fuck me, his hot muscle pushing past the tender ring of muscle.

"Jesus Christ," I moaned, my hands clawing at nothing but air. The sensation was overwhelming his slick tongue darting in and out, circling and probing.

"Fuck, Wells!" I cried out, my voice carrying across the empty field.

Wells pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "Keep it down, fella. Someone might hear you."

I glanced around nervously, suddenly aware of how exposed we were, but the field remained empty. The thrill of possibly being caught only made me harder.

"Don't stop," I panted, pushing back against his face, my hangover completely forgotten.

He obliged, his tongue resuming its work as his hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as I trembled. One hand snaked around to grasp my aching cock, stroking me in rhythm with his tongue's movements.

"Feels good?" Wells asked, his breath hot against my wet skin.

"So fucking good," I groaned, reaching down to stroke myself. "But I need more."

I felt his slick fingers pressing against me, sliding in with surprising ease.

"Still loose from last night," he remarked, "John's cock really did a number on you."

I glanced back over my shoulder to see him fumbling with his jeans, freeing his cock with one hand while keeping his fingers buried inside me as I kicked off my jeans.

"You're not too sore?" Wells asked, his voice a mix of concern and hunger.

"Just do it," I hissed, the memory of last night's pleasure still fresh in my mind. "Fuck me right here."

He positioned himself behind me, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Despite the lingering tenderness from last night, my body yielded to him easily, still relaxed and slick. He slid in with one smooth thrust, both of us grunting in unison.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he panted, his hands gripping my hips as I pushed back against him, taking him deeper. Wells set a steady rhythm, as he rutted into me like animals in the field, surrounded by nothing but grass and open sky.

"Someone could walk by any second," I gasped, loving it.

Wells leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back as he whispered in my ear, "So? Let them watch. Let them see how good I fuck you. Maybe I'd let them have a turn."

"Yeah?" I almost squeaked.

The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. "Who would you let fuck me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Wells' pace quickened, his hips slapping against my ass. "Anyone. The whole damn crew." His fingers dug into my hips as he pounded into me relentlessly. "Dave, Pete, Mark... even Eric with that monster cock of his."

I gasped at the mention of Eric. "You noticed too?"

"Hard to miss, Isn't it?" Wells laughed, his rhythm faltering slightly. "Fuck, imagine that stretching you open. Bet you'd scream."

The thought of Eric's scary big cock flashed in my mind, and I found myself imagining what it would feel like pushing inside.

I reached behind me and sank two fingers into my hole; alongside Wells' cock, the tight ring of muscle straining to accommodate us both.

"Fucking hell," Wells gasped, his rhythm faltering as my fingers pressed against his shaft inside me. "That's so fucking hot."

"Keep talking," I panted, working my fingers deeper. "Tell me more about Eric."

Wells gripped my hips harder, his voice dropping to a husky growl. "Eric would watch first... learn how to handle you before sliding that monster inside. He'd be gentle at first, nervous even, those skinny arms trembling as he held your legs apart..."

I moaned loudly, the image vivid in my mind as I curled my fingers, brushing against my prostate. Strings of pre-cum dripped steadily from my cock, swinging wildly as Wells kept thrusting.

"And then Dave might catch us," Wells continued, his voice growing more frantic. "Then offer to show Eric how it's done."

"Yeah..."

"Dave wouldn't be gentle like Eric. He'd grab those hips and fuck you hard."

The mental image of being passed between the them pushed me closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna cum," I warned, my voice breaking as the pressure built. "Fuck, Wells, I'm so close."

"Do it," he urged, reaching around to grasp my cock. "Cum for me, Osc. Cum thinking about all these cocks waiting for their turn in you."

I exploded with a shout that echoed across the empty field, painting the grass below with thick ropes of cum.

Wells' body tensed as he drove into me one final time, his cock pulsing as he emptied inside me with a strangled groan. For a moment, we stayed frozen like that, panting and trembling in the morning sun, before he slowly withdrew.

"Fuck," he breathed, tucking himself away. "That was..."

"Yeah," I agreed, wincing slightly as I pulled up my jean. I ran my hands through my hair, suddenly aware of how dishevelled I must look. "We're a mess."

Wells laughed, using the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe sweat from his face. "Understatement of the year."

"Let's get back to mine. I need a shower and about three more hours of sleep."

We started walking again, our steps slower this time. The field shimmered with sunlight, the wet grass brushing our jeans. Neither of us said much, but Wells' hand brushed against mine more than once. I didn't take it, but I didn't move away either.

"Still thinking about Eric?" he teased eventually, glancing sideways at me.

I huffed a laugh. "Mate, I'm still trying to remember how to walk."

"You are walking funny," Wells said with a smirk.

"Still full of your cum, so yeah, cheers for that."

He grinned, cheeks flushed. "We should definitely do that again sometime."

I shot him a look. "The threesome or the part where you tongue-punched me in a public field?"

Wells smirked. "Both. Obviously."

When we reached my flat, Wells kicked his shoes off with a dramatic sigh, then yanked his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. "Reckon I've earned a nap on your sofa after that."

"Help yourself," I said, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Wells sprawled across the sofa, arms behind his head, looking completely unbothered by the fact he'd just railed me in a public field.

I flopped down next to him, letting my head fall against his shoulder. "You're such a shit."

"And yet you keep letting me in your back door."

"Fuck off."

"Make me."