Chapter 1: The Unraveling of Glagol
The air in Glagol’s dimly lit apartment was thick with the scent of lust and abandon. The fourth symbolar of the alphabet, known for his brooding demeanor and tired eyes, had always been a paradox—a man with a vagina, a secret hidden beneath the oversized hoodie he wore without shorts, and the delicate lace of women’s panties clinging to his skin. Tonight, though, there were no secrets. Tonight, his home was a den of debauchery, an orgy orchestrated by the toxic overlord Az and his band of misfits.
Glagol knelt in the center of the room, his hoodie pushed up to reveal the curve of his ass, his body trembling from the relentless assault of pleasure. Az, the arrogant leader, stood over him, a smirk curling his lips as he watched his minions take their turns. Dobro, ever the eager lackey, was behind Glagol, his hands gripping tight as he thrust with wild abandon. Buka, the brute with a surprising tenderness, knelt in front, his cock hard and glistening as Glagol’s lips wrapped around it, sucking with a desperate hunger.
“Fuck, Glagol, you’re a goddamn natural,” Buka growled, his voice rough as gravel, his hand tangling in Glagol’s hair. “Keep sucking like that, and I’m gonna blow right down your throat.”
Glagol’s eyes flicked up, a spark of defiance in their exhausted depths. “Don’t get cocky, Buka,” he muttered around the thickness in his mouth, his voice muffled but sharp. “I’m not here to make you feel like a king. I’m just… hungry.”
Az laughed, a cruel, cutting sound that sliced through the moans filling the room. “Hungry? You’re a fucking feast, Glagol. Look at you, dripping wet, your pussy begging for more while Dobro fucks you raw. You’re a mess, and you love it.”
Glagol’s cheeks burned—not from shame, but from the raw truth of Az’s words. He was a mess, sweating and panting, his body aching with a need that bordered on pain. His pussy clenched around Dobro’s relentless thrusts, each movement sending sparks of fire through his core. “Shut up, Az,” he snapped, pulling off Buka just long enough to glare at the leader. “If you’ve got something to say, come down here and say it with your cock, not your mouth.”
Az’s smirk widened, but he didn’t move. “Oh, I’ll have my turn. But I’m enjoying the show too much right now. Look at you, trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you? So fucking horny you can’t stand it.”
Glagol didn’t answer, but his body did. A shudder ran through him, his breath hitching as the pressure built. Half an hour of this relentless fucking, and he was teetering on the edge, his orgasm delayed by some cruel twist of fate. But now, it was coming. He could feel it, a tidal wave ready to crash. With a cry that was half-sob, half-moan, he came, a gush of wet heat squirting from him, soaking the floor beneath.
Buka’s eyes darkened with lust at the sight. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, pushing Dobro aside as he buried his face between Glagol’s thighs. His tongue plunged deep, too deep, lapping at the dripping mess with a ferocity that made Glagol gasp. “Oh, fuck, Buka,” Glagol groaned, his hands fisting in the brute’s hair. “You’re gonna kill me with that tongue.”
Buka chuckled against him, the vibration sending another jolt through Glagol’s oversensitive body. “Not yet, sweetheart. I’m just getting started.”
The room spun as Glagol’s moans grew louder, his body arching into Buka’s mouth. The others watched, their own desire reigniting, ready to dive back in. This was only the beginning.
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