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It starts with a dare—a half-cocked pissing match that spirals until Theo corners himself into proving backing his words up with action.
“You’re just mad that I last longer in the sack than both of you. Nah, than both of you combined,” Harley says as a rebuttal when Theo has the audacity to complain about being woken up at 4am yet again by the sound of him slamming some poor dude into the headboard.
“You’re full of shit,” Luca shoots back at the same time Theo says—
“Nah, no chance in hell.”
“What?” Harley shrugs one shoulder where his arm is thrown over the back of their worn-out couch. “Pissed cause I’m right?”
Theo scoffs. “Oh, fuck off. There’s no way you last longer than me. It's anatomy 101, dude.”
Luca raises an eyebrow at that. “Chicks tap out too, ya know. I mean, not that you’re a chick or anything, but libido ain’t exactly always their game.”
“Yeah, that’s where the testosterone comes in,” Theo leans back, crossing his arms. “Best of both worlds. Sex drive through the roof and no refractory period. I can literally go all night if I want to.”
Harley shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t fucking believe you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s the truth.” Theo replies with a shrug.
Luca looks back and forth between the two for a moment as their bickering continues. “I don’t know,” he finally chimes in. “It does kind of sound too good to be true.”
Theo huffs. “The fuck do I have to do to prove it?”
Luca smirks, like he’d been waiting for that question. “You could just… prove it.” He offers.
“What? You gonna fuck him and see who taps out first?” Harley says, ignoring the way Theo’s face goes red at the suggestion.
“Nah,” Luca replies with a soft shake of his head. “That’d only prove who can last longer between the two of us. Then you’d still be swinging your dick around talking about your fucking stamina anyway. We need an… impartial party.”
And for the first time in a long time, Theo finds himself speechless as Luca explains how one of his regular hook-ups has a fucking machine that he’s always ranting and raving about. And that this particular friend also owes Luca a favor. A few texts later, and the cogs are in motion.
“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Luca says, supplying one final out. “Mr. Superior Anatomy.”
Thoroughly cornered by his own ego, Theo bolts to his feet, crossing his arms as he stands chest to chest with Luca. “Tell me when and what fucking time to beat.”
The time to beat, as it turns out, is six hours according to Harley. Of course, he and Luca both call bullshit but a few quick texts from past hook-ups confirm it.
“Damn, full blown penetrative sex for that long. Do you not get bored or something?” Theo asks.
“Pfft, no,” Harley replies, “If you’re getting bored, you’re having shit sex.”
Regardless, Theo sighs. “I’m gonna have to bring my Switch or something for this.”
And less than 24 hours later, he does. Luca hauls the bastard machine through the door of his bedroom in all its glory. It’s simultaneously both bigger and smaller than Theo expects—a long metal pole with a flat base to attach whatever dildo he pleases powered by a chunky black motor the size of a small microwave. Luca sets it on the floor by his bed, putting his hands on his hips and admiring it as if he’s just built something he’s proud of.
“There she is,” he says, “Put it in whatever position. The only thing that matters is that it stays on and… you know, fucking you. I’ll start the clock when I hear the motor.”
“And if I think you’re cheating I will open the fucking door,” Harley adds from the hallway. “Cause I still think you’re full of shit.”
“Be prepared to be proven wrong then,” Theo says, flipping him the bird as he disappears back into the living room. Then Luca is gone as well and all that’s left is him and the fucking machine.
He stares it down for a moment with his arms crossed as if it's an opponent he can intimidate. The fucking machine, naturally, does not respond to this treatment.
It somehow looks less threatening once he secures his dildo to it—maybe it's the familiarity of it. He chose his favorite after all—medium sized and just weighty enough to always feel satisfying.
He debates positions for a while, deciding to start flat on his back, propped up on a matrix of pillows and a surplus of towels because he was not prepared to scrub that much pussy juice out of the carpet. Best to confine the imminent mess, he figures.
His jaw clenches as he works the dildo in a little faster than is strictly necessary, eager to get the whole ordeal over with. It burns as it goes in, hitting resistance, but he rubs his little cock with a rapid hand until the flare of pleasure softens his entrance, allowing the dildo to slide home.
“Mm,” he hums contentedly, wiggling his hips a little to feel that satisfying fullness. His finger hovers over the on button, hesitant, but he steels himself and presses it.
The machine stutters to life, backing up with a slow, jerky motion, stopping just before the dildo slips from his cunt. He watches with a sort of fascination as it changes directions, sinking back inside at the same pace. Its motions smooth out after a couple strokes, and before long Theo finds his hips moving with the cadence, anticipating each time the machine bottoms out.
He uses two fingers to rub tight circles on the side of his little cock, feeling his folds grow slicker with each thrust.
“Ah… mmh…” he moans softly, throwing his head back against the pillows and basking in the gentle building pleasure. It spreads through his body like a soft tide, coaxed onward by the machine’s steady thrusts and his own hand working his cock. There’s something almost luxurious about it—about how he just lays on his back stroking himself absentmindedly while the machine thrusts in and out, in and out.
His finger hovers over the button to increase the speed, but he pauses, suddenly remembering why he’s here. Fuck, how had be forgotten so quickly? He forces his hand away from his cock with a barely restrained whine and lets out a measured breath.
The machine continues on, ambivalent to his plight. He watches as it bobs back and forth, silicone shaft disappearing and reappearing rhythmically. The light catches its smooth, artificial surface, highlighting how his own juices have coated it. It's both mesmerizing and embarrassing to watch.
He wiggles his hips down experimentally, feeling the way the next thrust presses deeper inside. The base of the dildo grinds into his cunt as it bottoms out and when it comes away, a thick trail of slick clings to the silicone.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses under his breath, laying back against the pillows as he revels in the feeling of it sinking deeper inside. In and out, in and out. Still maddeningly slow, but the stretch is comfortable and the weight is satisfying and he can feel it kissing his cervix with the unyielding pressure of a machine. He allows himself to get lost in it, closing his eyes and panting softly.
When he opens his eyes next, twenty minutes have passed. He frowns—only five hours and forty minutes left to go. But the satisfaction of it has faded a little as his body adjusts to the machine’s steady ministrations.
His hand hovers over the button again. Surely a little more speed couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Ooh… god–mmh–” he bites his lip, tucking his chin against his chest as the machine’s strokes grow faster all at once. His cunt clenches around the dildo, further intensifying the friction against his sensitive inner walls as it begins to pound him more vigorously.
Fuck, if this was only setting two, what did setting four look like? He can’t help but wonder. Unconsciously, his hand floats back to his cock, rubbing desperate little circles against it.
“Ah–!” he moans as his orgasm washes over him with little warning. His eyes flutter shut as his hand stutters over his cock. Heat floods through him, rushing up his spine and flooding his skull like a deluge of pleasure. His fingertips tingle with it, toes clenching in the air as his legs quiver.
The machine fucks relentlessly, sinking in and out of his cunt as it quivers and squirts helplessly. The sensation quickly becomes overwhelming, but he bites his lip, forcing his shaking hips to stay close to the machine
“Hhn– fuh–fuck…” he whimpers. The thrusts are too much all of a sudden. He can feel the friction grating through him as his spent nerves cry out. It's too much, but he can’t give up now.
It’s too much. It’s too much…
The machine pounds in and out, in and out. His poor cunt flutters, clenching over the unyielding silicone shaft. Slick bubbles around the dildo in thick globs until the sound of it fucking him is wet and loud.
It’s too… feels good. It feels good.
The overwhelming sensation slowly dissipates into a comfortable buzz of arousal and Theo falls back against the pillows again. The machine fucks him so nicely. It's so easy to get lost in it again.
His fingers knot in the towels bunched by his hips as he pants through parted lips, reddened on one side where he keeps working the delicate skin with his teeth. At some point—in the haze of rhythmic in and out, in and out—he remembers the machine is still on setting two, but the idea of turning it back down is unbearable.
The sound of his sopping cunt seems even louder in his ears than the steady hum of the motor—a mortifyingly wet slick, slick, slick sound. He’d be shocked if his roommates couldn't hear it through the walls. The thought makes his little dick twitch eagerly.
Before the first hour is up, he cums from the machine’s thrusts alone, a rarity for him. He clutches at the pillow behind his head, elbows pressing close to his ears as he stares down the pale expanse of his torso watching as the machine pounds and pounds and pounds.
By the second hour, he loses track. Each thrust seems to last forever, demanding his full attention every time it slams into his cervix, but at the same time, they blur together in a featureless slurry of pleasure. The towels under his ass steadily soak through, the wet patch expanding beneath his hips and stretching out in front of him in a debauched pattern. God, did he squirt? When did he squirt?
By the third hour… fourth hour? Fuck it.
The machine moves faster now, hammering him with rapid strokes, maddening in their brutal consistency. Did he turn it up? When did he do that? Why did he…
Who cares? Not when it feels so good. His cunt takes each stroke eagerly, clenching and drooling happily as if reminding him that nothing else matters.
“Aah… ah–ooh… fuck-fuck–fuh-kk–mmmh…” moans tumble from his lips freely now. His whole body twitches with the rhythm of the machine, coaxing it onward, screaming for more, more, more…
He squeals as he cums again. His eyes roll back into his head, skull thrown back against the pillows as the machine pounds him dutifully through it. His abs shudder and cramp as a dull, bruising pain radiates from behind his navel, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it adds to the sensation—a delicious blend of pleasure and pain.
His cunt shimmers reddened and raw under the fluorescents as the machine spears through his puffy entrance. But the smooth silicone doesn’t know soreness and the machine knows not of fatigue. It can’t feel the way his cunt flutters weakly around it. It can’t see the way his little cock twitches, desperate and spent.
So it pounds and pounds and pounds. Forcing Theo’s body to take its relentless, mechanical rhythm with every thrust.
Unknown to Theo, at hour six, the door behind him creaks open. Two faces survey him—his slick soaked thighs, his hazy, fucked out expression. And they most certainly survey his puffy little cock where it twitches between his legs and his rosy cunt as it continues to drool around the machine as it fucks him.
The door closes. The clock continues.
Theo’s going for a new record, they decide unanimously.