My friend as my cumbucket - part 2

Continued from part 1. Rajno is confronted with the pictures I took of him covered in cum. I force him to follow me in the woods.

The notification popped up on Rajno’s phone while he was at lunch with Eli—a single photo attachment from an unknown number, no text, just the grainy image of his own slack face streaked with something white. His fork clattered against his tray. Eli frowned. “You good?” Rajno’s thumb trembled as he swiped the screen off, but not fast enough to miss the second photo: his limp cock glistening between his thighs, my fingers wrapped around it. The third was a close-up of his cum-smeared stomach, the fourth my cock nudging his parted lips. By the fifth, his breathing had gone shallow, his skin waxy under the cafeteria lights. “Dude,” Eli said, louder now, shaking his shoulder. “You look like you’re gonna puke.”

Some days later, I caught Rajno alone behind the gym after soccer practice, his cleats scuffing the gravel as he fumbled with his locker combination. The bruise-like circles under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept. “Recognize these?” I asked, flipping my phone screen toward him. The photos glowed in the dusk—Rajno’s body splayed across his own bed, my cum drying on his cheekbone. His throat clicked as he swallowed. “What do you want?” I smiled, pocketing the phone. “Follow me.” When he hesitated, I pulled up the group chat with his entire team, my thumb hovering over ‘send all.’ His breath hitched. The woods outside town were damp with evening dew, the path narrowing as we walked deeper, branches snagging at his jersey.

Halfway to the clearing, Rajno stopped, his shoulders hunched. “Why are you doing this?” The words came out cracked, like he’d been rehearsing them. I turned, studying the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the sweat beading along his hairline. Behind us, a twig snapped—some animal, probably, but Rajno flinched like it was a gunshot. I stepped closer, close enough to smell the sharp tang of his fear. “Because you let me,” I murmured, brushing a leaf from his collar. His breath stuttered. “Because you didn’t wake up.” The truth was simpler, though: because I could. Because his body had yielded so beautifully under my hands, because the photos on my phone weren’t enough.

“Strip,” I said. Rajno’s fingers curled into fists. For a second, I thought he might bolt—his gaze darted to the path behind me, calculating—but then I pulled out my phone, thumbing open the album. His nostrils flared at the sight of himself, spread-eagled and glazed with my spit. “You think Eli would recognize that mole?” I tapped the screen, zooming in on the dark spot just below his ribcage. Rajno’s throat worked silently. Slowly, shaking, he tugged his jersey over his head, the fabric catching on his elbows before he wrenched it free. His chest was paler than I remembered, the ribs more pronounced. When he hesitated at his shorts, I smirked. “All of it.”

Rajno’s hands trembled as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down his hips in one jerky motion. His boxers followed, pooling around his ankles like shed skin. He stood there, naked except for his socks and cleats, his arms crossed over his chest like he could shrink into himself. The evening air raised goosebumps along his thighs. “Turn around,” I said, pocketing my phone. He didn’t move. I sighed, pulling up the group chat again—this time with the video cued, the thumbnail unmistakably his bare ass, my fingers parting him. Rajno spun so fast he stumbled, his spine rigid as a ruler. The knobs of his vertebrae stood out in sharp relief, the dimples above his ass deeper than I’d remembered.

I circled him slowly, my boots crunching in the leaf litter. Up close, I could see the fine blond hairs dusting the back of his neck, the way his shoulders twitched when my shadow passed over him. His cock hung soft between his thighs, but his breathing was all wrong—too quick, too shallow. I reached out, tracing the dip of his waist, and felt him shudder. “You’re shaking,” I observed, pressing my palm flat against his stomach. His skin was clammy. “Cold?” Rajno didn’t answer. His pulse jumped under my fingers, rabbit-quick. Behind us, the trees sighed, branches swaying in a wind that didn’t reach the forest floor. Somewhere distant, a car door slammed. Rajno’s breath hitched.

I stood behind him, close enough that my breath stirred the fine hairs at his nape. “Spread them,” I murmured, nudging his ankle with my toe. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move—then, with excruciating slowness, his hands crept back, fingers trembling as they hooked under his own cheeks and pulled. The sight punched the air from my lungs: that tight pink pucker, the way his hole fluttered when a gust of wind licked across it. My phone was already in my hand, the camera app open. I snapped three shots in quick succession—the first blurry from his shaking, the second perfectly framed, the third catching the moment a bead of sweat rolled down his thigh. Then I switched to video, zooming in until the screen showed nothing but that twitching rim. “Turn around,” I ordered. Rajno startled, twisting to face me mid-step, his eyes widening when he saw the glowing screen. His hands flew up, instinctively covering himself, but it was too late—the footage was already saved, his horrified expression frozen in high definition.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of damp earth and something metallic—fear-sweat, maybe. Rajno’s mouth worked silently, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I tilted the phone so he could see the playback: his own naked body, the way his asshole clenched when I’d told him to turn. His breath came faster now, his chest rising and falling in shallow hitches. “Why—” he started, then choked off, his gaze darting to the trees behind me like he might find an escape route there. I pocketed the phone, stepping closer until our chests nearly brushed. His breath warmed my collarbone, sour with panic. “You’re not even hard,” I observed, glancing down at his limp cock. Rajno flinched, his thighs pressing together. A leaf clung to his calf, its edges browned and brittle.

The first raindrop landed on his shoulder, sliding down his chest like a tear. Rajno blinked up at the darkening sky, his lashes clumping with moisture. Another drop hit his collarbone, then his cheek, tracing the same path my spit had taken weeks ago. Thunder growled in the distance, low and ominous. I caught his wrist before he could wipe his face, squeezing until his fingers twitched in my grip. “You’re getting wet,” I said, thumbing away the raindrop on his cheekbone. His skin was cold under my touch, his pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. The trees swayed overhead, branches creaking. Rajno’s teeth chattered—from the chill, or from fear, I couldn’t tell. The storm rolled closer, the air thick with ozone and the promise of violence. I tightened my grip. “Let’s find somewhere dry.”

We didn’t go to his house this time. My apartment was closer, the blinds already drawn, the door unlocked. Rajno hesitated on the threshold, his wet cleats squeaking on the hardwood. I nudged him forward with my knee, guiding him toward the bedroom like a reluctant dog. The door was heavy, solid oak with a brass knob that gleamed dully in the lamplight. “Grab it,” I ordered, nodding to the handle. Rajno’s fingers hovered uncertainly before curling around the metal, his knuckles white with tension. The rope was already waiting—thick, hemp, coiled neatly on the dresser. I looped it around his wrists in quick, practiced motions, knotting it tight enough to bite. Rajno gasped when I yanked the final knot into place, his arms stretched taut, his back arched. Rain drummed against the window, muffling the sound of his shaky exhale.

I stepped back to admire my handiwork. The rope dug into his pale skin, already reddening where it pulled. Rajno’s shoulders trembled, his spine a delicate curve under the overhead light. Water dripped from his hair onto the floorboards, pooling between his feet. Slowly, deliberately, I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it slide off my shoulders. Rajno’s breath hitched when I unbuckled my belt, the leather sliding free with a whisper. His gaze flicked downward, then away, his throat working silently. My cock sprang free, thick and already half-hard, the head glistening in the low light. Rajno made a small, choked noise, his fingers flexing against the door handle. “Look at me,” I commanded. When he didn’t move, I grabbed his chin, forcing his gaze downward. His pupils dilated, black swallowing blue. A drop of precum pearled at my tip, quivering before it fell. Rajno flinched when it landed on his thigh, warm against his rain-chilled skin.

The storm outside reached a crescendo, lightning flickering through the blinds, painting Rajno’s body in stark relief. The rope creaked as he tested it, his wrists twisting futilely. I palmed my cock, stroking it lazily, watching the way his breath quickened with each pass. His nipples pebbled in the damp air, his cock still limp between his thighs. “Scared?” I murmured, stepping closer until my hips brushed his ass. Rajno shuddered, his head bowing between his outstretched arms. Thunder rattled the windows, the sound vibrating through the floorboards, through my bones. I pressed my free hand between his shoulder blades, feeling the rapid flutter of his heartbeat under my palm. His skin was cold, clammy—alive. I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Good.”

I reached for the bottle on the nightstand, the lube slick between my fingers. The scent of artificial strawberries filled the air as I coated my cock liberally, the sheen catching the dim light. Rajno tensed when I touched his hole with my other hand, his breath hitching as I smeared the excess lube around his rim. Without warning, I pressed two fingers inside him, the tight heat of his asshole clamping down instantly. Rajno gasped, his back arching, the rope biting into his wrists. “Fuck—!” he choked out, his voice raw. I crooked my fingers, searching, and he cried out again, his knees buckling slightly. The storm drowned out most of the sound, but I felt the vibration of his scream through my fingertips. His hole fluttered around me, resisting at first, then yielding—just like before. Just like always.

I withdrew my fingers with a wet pop, ignoring Rajno’s ragged breathing, the way his thighs trembled. My cock nudged against his entrance, the head catching on his rim for a second before I pushed forward in one brutal thrust. Rajno screamed—a shattered, guttural sound—his body jerking against the ropes. Tears spilled over instantly, streaking down his cheeks, his mouth twisted in pain. I paused, buried to the hilt, savoring the way his insides clenched around me, hot and tight and unforgiving. His asshole pulsed wildly, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. A strand of saliva swung from his lower lip, catching the light before it snapped. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows like it wanted in. Rajno sobbed, his forehead pressed to the door, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wood.

I pulled out slowly, watching his rim stretch obscenely around me, red and glistening. Rajno whimpered, his body sagging against the ropes. Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the walls. When I slammed back in, his scream was muffled by the storm, his tears mixing with the rain streaking the windows. His asshole burned around me, clenching and unclenching in erratic pulses, his body torn between rejection and reluctant acceptance. I set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from his lungs, his cock bouncing uselessly between his thighs. Rajno’s sobs hitched with every movement, his wrists raw from straining against the rope. The door creaked in time with my hips, the brass knob rattling. I gripped his waist tighter, my fingers leaving bruises, my breath hot against his spine. Rajno’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, his body arching, his hole fluttering around me like a heartbeat.

The rain intensified, hammering against the glass like it wanted to break through. Rajno’s legs shook, his knees threatening to give out, but the ropes held him upright. I fucked him harder, the sound of skin on skin lost beneath the storm’s fury. His tears dripped onto the floorboards, joining the puddle from his wet hair. His asshole was slick with lube and sweat now, the initial resistance gone, replaced by a slack, abused heat that clung to my cock with every withdrawal. Rajno’s breath came in ragged hitches, his voice hoarse from screaming. I leaned over him, my chest pressed to his back, my lips brushing the nape of his neck. “You take it so well,” I murmured, biting down on the delicate skin there. Rajno shuddered, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. His body was pliant now, his sobs quieter, his hole accepting me with a defeated ease. The storm raged on, the wind screaming through the trees, the rain washing everything away—except this. Except us.

Vigorously I fucked his asshole until I came deep inside him, my hips jerking erratically as I buried myself to the hilt. Rajno gasped when I pulsed inside him, his body tensing for a split second before going limp again. I groaned, grinding against him, milking every last drop into his trembling body. His hole fluttered weakly around me, too spent to clench properly, but still warm, still tight. I pulled out slowly, watching my cum drip from his stretched rim, thick and white against his reddened skin. Rajno slumped forward, his forehead pressing against the door, his arms trembling from the strain of the ropes. I undid the knots with quick fingers, and broken Rajno fell down, collapsing onto the hardwood with a thud. His knees scraped against the rough wood, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He didn’t try to move, didn’t try to cover himself—just lay there, limp and spent, his cheek pressed to the floor.

I grabbed a large dildo from my desk, the silicone cold and rigid in my hand. Rajno barely reacted when I pressed it against his hole, his body too exhausted to resist. I pushed it inside him in one smooth motion, watching his rim stretch around the thick girth. His breath hitched, but he didn’t cry out this time, just squeezed his eyes shut tighter. The dildo slid in easily, aided by the mess of lube and cum still inside him. I shoved it all the way in, until the base sat flush against his ass, then reached for his discarded shorts. Rajno flinched when I touched his ankle, but didn’t resist as I pulled the fabric up his legs, one at a time. The shorts clung to his damp skin, the waistband snug over his hips, trapping the dildo inside him. His cock lay soft against his thigh, untouched since the start, a stark contrast to the obscene fullness of his ass. I smoothed the fabric down, adjusting the fit, ensuring the dildo wouldn’t slip out. Rajno shuddered, his fingers twitching against the floorboards, but he didn’t speak, didn’t protest.

The storm outside had begun to wane, the rain softening to a steady patter against the window. Rajno’s breathing had evened out slightly, though his body still trembled with residual tension. I crouched beside him, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. His skin was cold, clammy, his lips slightly parted. A bruise was already forming on his hip, dark and mottled against his pale flesh. I traced it with my thumb, pressing just enough to make him whimper. “You’re still here,” I observed, my voice low. Rajno didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the floor. His shorts were damp from the rain, the fabric clinging to his thighs, the outline of the dildo barely visible beneath the fabric. I stood, stepping back to survey him—sprawled on the floor, marked and used, his body still holding me inside him in some small, twisted way. The room smelled of sweat and sex and the sharp, metallic tang of the storm. Rajno’s phone buzzed in his discarded shorts, the sound muffled by the fabric. Eli, probably. I left it unanswered.

I threw him out and told him we’ll be seeing each other more often. The door swung shut behind him with a hollow thud, the lock clicking into place. Rajno staggered on the landing, his legs unsteady, his shorts riding up slightly to reveal the base of the dildo pressing against the fabric. He didn’t look back, didn’t knock, didn’t scream—just limped down the stairs, one hand braced against the wall for support. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, the air thick with the scent of wet pavement. I watched from the window as he disappeared around the corner, his silhouette swallowed by the gloom. His phone buzzed again in his pocket, the screen lighting up briefly before going dark. The streetlamp flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the empty sidewalk. I wondered if he’d tell Eli. If he’d tell anyone. The thought curled hot in my chest, tightening around my ribs like a vise.

Back inside, I picked up his discarded jersey from the floor, the fabric still damp with rain and sweat. I brought it to my face, inhaling deeply—the scent of him, sharp and musky, undercut with the faint tang of fear. The ropes lay coiled on the bed, the hemp fibers frayed from strain. I ran my fingers along the length of them, imagining the way they’d bit into his skin, the way his wrists had reddened under the pressure. My cock twitched at the memory, half-hard already. The dildo was still inside him, I knew, wedged deep, a constant reminder. I wondered if he’d take it out as soon as he got home, or if he’d leave it in, too afraid to disobey. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I palmed myself through my jeans, groaning at the pressure. The storm had passed, but the electricity in the air lingered, crackling under my skin.

Down the hall, the fridge hummed to life, the sound jarring in the sudden quiet. I crossed to the nightstand, picking up my phone. The screen lit up with a notification—a new message from an unknown number. I swiped it open, my pulse quickening. The photo was grainy, taken in low light, but unmistakable: Rajno’s bare back, the ropes still coiled around his wrists, his head bowed between his shoulders. The timestamp placed it minutes ago. My breath caught in my throat. Behind me, the door creaked—just the wind, probably. Just the old building settling. But when I turned, the handle was trembling slightly, as if someone had just let go. I pocketed the phone, my lips curling into a slow smile. The game wasn’t over. Not even close.