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Kraftwerk blasts through the speakers overhead, the rhythm of the bass sequencer can be felt through the floor. The floor, which is coated in thick layers of lubricant, grease, and seminal fluid from dozens of the most depraved men this side of the Rhine, leads from the main dance floor to a hallway lit only by soft red lights. Red lights, which flick on and off upon entry and exit of the private rooms mostly made public, are a common sight in this neighborhood, and the door to which this certain red light is adjacent, is swung wide open for any set of eyes who wish to peer in on the canal acts of incest taking place inside.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sixer…!” Stan, sweat pouring down his body into the leather harness cradling his furry back, pants out between hot breaths feeling the whole of his brother’s six-fingered fist slip inside his stretched anal ring. He’s given only a brief moment to collect any chance of composure he has left, opening his eyes to watch the pulsing colored lights shower him from above.
Ford peers up over Stan’s stomach, his limp cock in the foreground as he attempts to read his twin’s facial expressions. “You know, it’s just as uncomfortable for me to have my arm just hanging about like this.” He flexes his bicep, sending signals all the way to his clenched fist surrounded by Stan’s warm and supple flesh. After the period of rest is over, his left hand dips down into the bucket of anal grease, scooping up a generous handful before slathering his forearm up to the elbow. “You’re doing great, I think you’re ready for more. What say you?”
“Fucking do it, shove that fucking fist in me…” Stan puffs out a deep breath and relaxes his hole, inviting the closed fist inside to slip deeper. He tries to adjust himself into a better position, but forgetting his wrists and ankles are clasped in leather cuffs attached to the chains hanging from the top of the harness structure, he must stay content slung back almost on his head.
A gloved-hand reaches out to him from the dark around him, grasping Stan’s leather chest piece, and slides him up into the harness. One of the several men encircling the pair of twins must have noticed what Stan needed, and made sure to make himself known, hoping to get a piece of the younger twin himself.
Ford’s wrist gets suctioned in deeper, and with each round of breaths Stan sputters in and out, he sinks his arm further into the mess of wet muscle. His forearm slides down with little resistance, before the crook of his elbow nestles nicely against Stan’s plump ass cheeks. “My beautiful baby brother…” he loves reminding the younger twin who’s in charge once in a while.
“Holy shit…fuck me deep, fuck your fist deep in me, Sixer.” Stan’s cock, still limp from the pressure built up from the elder twin’s arm encased with his whole rectum, twitches from the hypersensitivity. He knows he’s not close to ejaculating yet, so there’s only one thing coming.
“Oh fuck yeah,” a deep baritone voice punches through the musky air, “big boy here is pissing himself!”
Snaking his forearm in a repeated motion, Ford watches his brother spray, what he can only assume from the smell, dark-yellow urine across his stomach. “Alrighty boys, who’s thirsty?” He continues his assault of his brother’s innards while an older man with a hefty grey beard wraps his lips around Stan’s cock, drinking down the stale piss like it’s water. He ramps up the pace, teasing the rim of Stan’s entrance with his elbow. “You’re a fucking degenerate, Stanley…just how I like you.” He reaches down into the grease bucket once more and lathers his bicep, “I’ve never felt so close to you before. It’s like I’m truly getting to know who you are on the inside.”
Even though Stan’s stream has ceased, the grey-bearded man remains eager to fill his mouth with a suddenly stiffening cock. He plays with his large nipples, tugging them tightly between his firm fingers, as he suckles on the tip of Stan’s cock, coaxing him closer and closer to release.
Stan is unable to form a single word, but the groan of pleasure emitted from his mouth comes from the deepest pit in his stomach as the elder twin sinks his elbow through him. His hole is stretched to previously unimaginable levels as his brother flexes his bicep inside him.
“Are you feeling it now, Stanley? Do you feel just how deep my love for you goes?” Writhing his upper arm at a lightning pace, he’s entranced by the rattling of chains, pushing his brother to the absolute limit. He forces Stan’s cock to fuck grey-beard’s throat with each punch, “I know you’re close, Stanley…I can feel your prostate throbbing against my wrist. Cum for me, my darling. Pump your sperm down this stranger’s throat…”
His mind unable to override any bodily function, his balls contract into his body as spurts of cum shoot straight from his piss-slit into the waiting gullet. A long cry ruptures as his lower half throbs in a polyrhythmic state of pleasure.
The grey-bearded man swallows down the last of Stan’s cum, pulling off the fast-shriveling cock with a wry smile. He leans over and plants his lips on Stan’s, transferring the thick, pearl-white, collection of sperm from his mouth to the younger twin’s. “Dankeschön…” he offers with a rough pat of his hand against Stan’s cheek.
Ford hunches over, resting the whole of his arm in the warmth of his brother’s insides. He nudges the younger twin with his shoulder, “You ready to call it a night?”
Stan doesn’t move, he just lies in the harness catching his breath, swallowing his own deposit.
“Well, that’s too bad, dear.” Ford watches as another man, this one thirty years his junior with a thick, long, ten-inch cock hanging between his legs steps up and begins using Stan’s mouth as a cock sleeve. The elder twin strokes his cock with his left hand, still slathered in grease, as their night continues well into the early hours of the morning.