Getting Spitroasted - Eiffel Tower Style

>All characters in this story are 18+

>***BackStory****: I sat on Daniel’s lap as a joke... but he got hard. One thing led to another, and I dropped to my knees to suck him off. Right when it got good, our neighbor Wes walked in—*
*Turns out Daniel had texted him to come join the fun. Next thing I knew, I was on my knees between two cocks... and they wanted to Eiffel Tower me.*

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I wasn’t just getting passed between them.
I was theirs.

Daniel was behind me, cock buried deep, hands locked on my hips like he owned me.
Wes was in front, kneeling, cock thick against my lips, eyes glassy like he needed this as much as I did.

I was nothing but a bridge between them.
Their toy.
Their little plaything.

And when Wes reached forward—when Daniel reached up—their hands met.
Right over my back.
Fingers lacing. Palms tight.

That’s when it happened.

The Eiffel Tower.
And fuck, it was *perfect*.

Their rhythm synced like they’d been practicing on other boys for this exact moment.
Or maybe they just *knew* what I needed—better than I even did.

Daniel would drive in hard. I’d lurch forward.
Wes would sink deeper into my mouth, groaning low, fingers threading in my hair.
Then Wes would pull back, dragging his cock against my swollen tongue, and I’d slam back onto Daniel’s cock again.

One perfect wave.
Forward. Back. Forward. Back.
My body wasn’t mine anymore. It was *theirs*.

I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t speak.
Could only feel.

And fuck, they made me feel everything.

Daniel’s grip bruised my hips. Wes’s cock pulsed against my tongue.
And their hands—still clasped over my spine—never let go.

"Fuck," Wes groaned, voice cracking. "Look at him. He’s shaking."

"He loves it," Daniel growled low, hips snapping harder. "Don’t you, baby?"

I tried to answer.
But all I could do was moan. Loud. Around Wes’s cock.

They both felt it.
They both *laughed*—dark, hungry, loving every broken sound I made.

Wes rocked into my mouth slow, filthy, his free hand stroking my jaw as he pulled back just enough for me to gasp, spit dribbling down my chin.
And Daniel—God—Daniel took that second to slam in deeper, making me *cry* out.

"He sounds so pretty when he gets fucked like that," Wes murmured.

"Prettiest thing I’ve ever ruined," Daniel rasped, voice raw.

I couldn’t stop.
My knees were bruised.
My throat raw.
My hole stretched wide and twitching.

And I fucking *loved* it.

Wes slid back into my mouth slow, cock dragging across my tongue like he *owned* it.
Daniel angled his hips, grinding into me deeper, harder, like he wasn’t satisfied yet.

And they started talking again. Over me. Around me. Like I was some toy they were sharing.

"Think he’s close?" Wes asked, breathless.

"Feel how tight he is," Daniel muttered darkly. "He’s *begging* for it."

"You gonna let him cum?"

"Not yet."

They chuckled.
Like they had a plan.
Like *I* was just along for the ride.

My mind was spinning. The rhythm. The heat. The way Wes kept petting my hair like I was something fragile.
The way Daniel kept fucking into me like he wanted to break me apart.

And then—
Their hands unclasped.

Daniel grunted, low and rough.

"Switch."

Wes stood. Daniel pulled out.
And I collapsed to the floor, panting, shaking, legs trembling.

But they weren’t done with me.

Not even close.

Wes knelt behind me now. Daniel moved in front.

It was Wes’s turn to fuck me.
And he was *bigger*. Thicker. Hotter.

I looked up at Daniel—his cock flushed, dripping—and he cupped my jaw, thumb teasing my spit-slick lips.

"You want it?" he whispered.

I nodded, desperate.

He tapped his cock against my cheek.

"Open up, pretty boy."

I did.
And he slid inside—slow, almost *loving*—groaning at the heat of my mouth.

Behind me, Wes’s hands grabbed my hips, rough, greedy.
The pressure built—and then he pushed in, splitting me open in one long, brutal thrust.

I *screamed* around Daniel’s cock.
My back arched. My toes curled.

"Fuck," Wes growled. "He’s perfect."

Daniel stroked my hair, guiding me up and down his cock.

"Better hold on, baby," he warned, voice trembling.

Wes wasted no time.
He started moving—fucking into me deep, rough, relentless.
Daniel matched it, his hips rocking in my mouth, feeding me his cock over and over.

Every time Wes slammed into me, I gagged on Daniel.
Every time Daniel pulled back, Wes stuffed me full again.

I was *wrecked*.
I was *ruined*.
And I didn’t want it to stop.

Sweat dripped down my back. My thighs quivered.
My cock bounced between my legs, untouched but leaking nonstop.

Wes slapped my ass—hard—then grabbed it, spreading me wider, driving in deeper.

Daniel’s cock twitched against my tongue, his thrusts getting sloppier, needier.

I was falling apart. Shaking. Whimpering.

"Gonna cum," I gasped, pulling off Daniel’s cock, lips puffy and soaked. "Fuck—I’m gonna—"

"No," Daniel snapped.

"Not yet," Wes added.

But it was too late.

I came hard.
Exploding all over the carpet.
My arms buckled. My body shook.

And they *didn’t stop*.

Wes kept hammering into me, chasing his own high.

Daniel stroked himself, groaning, watching me cum undone.

Wes slammed in one last time, hard and deep—and then he pulled out with a shudder, jerking himself frantically.

Hot cum splattered across my lower back.

I collapsed forward, whimpering, too fucked out to move.

But Daniel wasn’t finished.

He grabbed my face, slid his cock back into my mouth, and fucked it hard, fast, desperate.

"Gonna cum," he growled. "Take it, baby. Fuck—take it—"

I moaned around him. Let him.

He pulled out at the last second, finishing across my lips, my chin, my chest.
Hot. Sticky. Claiming me.

I was covered.
Shaking.
Glowing.

Wes handed me a towel, his fingers brushing my thigh, soft now.
Daniel knelt beside me, kissed me—slow and sweet.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I nodded, hazy, blissed out.

"That was..." I couldn’t even finish.

Wes chuckled.

"That," he said, grinning wide, "was the Eiffel Tower."

Daniel laughed, deep and breathless.

"We’re *definitely* doing that again."