Brutal Buggery of Femboy

Hana stood before the full-length mirror in his apartment, heart hammering as he smoothed the tiny pink crop top over his slender chest. At twenty-two, he had perfected the look that made him ache with need: soft makeup framing his wide eyes, a touch of gloss on his full lips, and nothing below the waist but a pair of lacy black panties that barely contained the half-hard cock twitching against the thin fabric. Thigh-high socks clung to his smooth legs, the kind he loved wearing under tiny skirts when he prowled the hallways of their shared building, deliberately brushing past Grant just to feel the older man’s hungry stare.

Grant was thirty-one, all hard muscle and barely leashed dominance, the kind of man who filled out a tight T-shirt like a promise of rough hands and thicker cock. For weeks they had circled each other in the corridors—Hana fluttering in skirts that rode high on his thighs, Grant’s eyes raking over every inch, both of them openly admitting what they wanted whenever the dirty texts started flying. “I want you to wreck me,” Hana had typed last night, fingers shaking. “No limits. Pound my hole until I can’t walk.” Grant’s reply had been immediate and filthy: “When I get in that tight femboy ass I’m going to split you open. Beg for it and I’ll give you every brutal inch.”

The sexual tension had become unbearable. Every hallway pass left Hana dripping into his panties, cock leaking at the memory of Grant’s deep voice describing exactly how hard he planned to fuck. Now the invitation had been sent, the door left unlocked. Hana’s pulse thudded as footsteps approached.

Grant didn’t knock. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it hard behind him. Six-foot-something of solid muscle filled the entryway, dark eyes locking onto Hana’s bare thighs and the way the crop top rode up to show a sliver of soft belly. “Fuck,” Grant growled, voice already rough. “Look at you. Standing there like a needy little slut in those panties. Weeks of you teasing me in that building, swaying that ass past me in those tiny skirts. I’ve been hard every goddamn night thinking about bending you over.”

Hana’s breath hitched. He turned slowly, letting Grant see the full picture—the makeup, the socks, the way his cock tented the front of the lace. “I meant every text,” he whispered, voice breathy. “I want it brutal. I want you to use me however you want. No holding back.”

Grant crossed the room in three long strides. His hands landed hard on Hana’s slim hips, yanking him forward until their bodies crashed together. The kiss was immediate and hungry—Grant’s mouth claiming his, tongue shoving deep, teeth scraping Hana’s lower lip. Hana moaned into it, hands flying up to clutch at Grant’s solid shoulders, feeling the thick muscle flex under the cotton of his shirt. Grant’s palms slid down, cupping Hana’s ass through the panties, squeezing hard enough to leave marks, fingers digging into the soft cheeks and spreading them slightly so the thin fabric pulled tight over his hole.

“You’ve been walking around this building smelling like sex,” Grant rasped against his mouth, one hand sliding around to palm Hana’s cock through the lace. The femboy was already leaking, the head wet and sticky. “Flashing those thighs, sending me pictures of your hole stretched on a plug. I’ve jerked off thinking about wrecking this pretty little body. Tell me again what you want.”

Hana’s knees nearly buckled as Grant squeezed his shaft. “I want you to fuck me raw,” he begged, voice cracking with need. “Be as brutal as you want. Pound my ass until I’m crying and still begging for more. I need it rough—your big cock splitting me open, no mercy. Dominate me completely.” His own hands were frantic now, shoving under Grant’s shirt to feel the ridged abs, the warm skin, the power coiled there. He could feel the thick outline of Grant’s cock straining against denim, huge and hard against his soft belly.

Grant snarled and spun him, pinning Hana’s back to his chest, one arm locked around the femboy’s narrow waist while the other shoved down the front of the panties. Calloused fingers wrapped around Hana’s cock and stroked roughly, thumb smearing the precome over the sensitive head. “This is mine tonight,” Grant said into his ear, biting the lobe hard enough to sting. “This pretty cock, this tight hole, this whole slutty body dressed up for me. I’m going to bend you over every piece of furniture in here and fuck you until you can’t think. You sure you can take it?”

“Yes—God, yes,” Hana gasped, hips bucking into the fist. The crop top had ridden up completely, exposing his smooth chest; Grant’s free hand pinched a nipple hard, twisting until Hana cried out in pleasure-pain. “I’ve wanted this for weeks. Every time we passed in the hallway I got so wet imagining you dragging me inside and just taking what you wanted. Please, Grant—don’t hold back. Be brutal. Wreck my hole.”

Grant’s control snapped. He spun Hana again and crushed their mouths together, kissing like he was starving—tongue fucking deep, lips bruising, one hand fisting in Hana’s soft hair to hold him still while the other yanked the panties down mid-thigh. Cool air hit Hana’s bare ass and cock. Grant groped freely now, thick fingers sliding between the cheeks, finding the tight pucker and rubbing firmly without entering, just pressing and circling until Hana was shaking and whining into the kiss.

“Feel how hard I am for you,” Grant ordered, grinding his clothed cock against Hana’s hip. The length was intimidating even through fabric—long, thick, promising the kind of stretch that would burn and fill. “I’ve been texting you all the filthy shit I plan to do. Spreading these legs, holding you down, slamming into this sweet ass until you’re drooling and leaking all over yourself. You’re going to take every inch and thank me for it.”

Hana’s answer was a broken moan. He shoved Grant’s shirt higher, nails scraping over hard pecs, then dropped a hand to fumble with the older man’s belt. “I need it,” he panted between kisses. “Need your cock stretching me open. Use me. Hurt me if you want—just don’t stop. I’ve been aching for weeks, walking around with a plug in just so I’d be ready when you finally came over. Fuck me like the dominant man you are. Make it brutal.”

Grant’s eyes darkened with pure lust. He shoved Hana backward until the femboy’s bare thighs hit the edge of the couch, then pushed him down so he sprawled on the cushions, legs falling open, panties stretched uselessly around one thigh, cock flushed and dripping against his belly. Grant loomed over him, yanking his own shirt off to reveal the full expanse of muscle—broad chest, thick arms, the dark trail of hair leading down into open jeans. He shoved the denim and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out heavy and veined, the head already shiny, the girth making Hana’s mouth water and his hole clench in anticipation.

“Look at that hungry little face,” Grant said, stroking himself slowly while staring down at the dressed-up femboy. “Makeup all smeared already, cock leaking, hole twitching. You’ve been flirting and teasing and begging through every dirty message. Now you’re going to get exactly what you asked for.” He stepped between Hana’s spread thighs, one knee on the couch, and leaned down to kiss him again—slower this time but no less intense, tongue sweeping deep while his free hand rolled Hana’s balls and then slid lower to press two thick fingers against the tight entrance.

Hana arched, crying out into Grant’s mouth as the blunt tips rubbed and pushed without entering yet. “Please,” he whimpered, wrapping his stockinged legs around Grant’s waist, heels digging into the solid muscle of his back. “Don’t tease—just take me. Be as rough as you want. I need your cock buried in my ass. Dominate me. Pound me. I want to feel it tomorrow every time I walk past your door.”

Grant’s breath was hot against his lips. “Oh, you’ll feel it. I’m going to open this hole up with my fingers first just enough so I don’t actually break you, then I’m going to bury every inch and fuck you like I own you. You said no limits. You begged for brutal. That’s what you’re getting.” His fingers pressed harder, the first one finally popping past the rim, thick and insistent, sliding in to the knuckle while Hana gasped and clenched around the intrusion.

The femboy’s head fell back, throat exposed, makeup smudged, crop top bunched under his arms. Every nerve lit up as Grant worked that finger deeper, then added a second, scissoring and stretching with deliberate force. “So fucking tight,” Grant muttered, eyes locked on Hana’s face. “Going to feel incredible wrapped around my cock. Keep begging. Tell me how much you want it.”

“I want it so bad,” Hana moaned, rocking down onto the fingers, cock bouncing against his stomach. “Want you to hold me down and fuck me until I’m screaming. Use my hole. Fill me. Be brutal—please, Grant, don’t hold anything back. I’ve been yours since the first time we locked eyes in that hallway and both admitted we wanted this exact rough, filthy fuck.”

Grant curled his fingers, finding the spot that made Hana’s vision spark white, and rubbed hard while his other hand stroked his own massive cock in time. The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of arousal, skin, and the wet sounds of fingers working a willing hole. Hana’s thighs trembled in the thigh-highs; his hole fluttered greedily around the intrusion.

“Not yet,” Grant said, voice low and dangerous with promise as he slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving Hana empty and aching. He lined the thick head of his cock up against the slick, stretched rim, pressing just enough to make the femboy feel the heat and the size without sinking in. “I’m going to give you every brutal inch you begged for. But first you’re going to look me in the eye and ask for it one more time—loud and clear—so there’s no mistake how much you want this rough, no-limits pounding.”

Hana’s eyes were glassy with lust, body arched, hole twitching against the blunt pressure. The weeks of hallway tension, the teasing texts, the dirty admissions—all of it had led exactly here. He opened his mouth, ready to beg again, cock leaking steadily onto his soft belly, every inch of him vibrating with the need to be taken apart by the dominant man looming over him.

Hana’s voice cracked with raw desperation as he stared up into Grant’s eyes. “Please, Grant—fuck me brutal. Shove that thick cock into my tight ass and wreck me. I need every inch splitting me open right now. Dominate me, use me, pound me until I can’t think. I’m your cock-hungry slut and I want it rough.”

Grant’s control shattered. He hauled Hana up by the arms like he weighed nothing, spinning the slender femboy around and manhandling him face-down onto the couch cushions. Strong hands shoved between Hana’s shoulder blades, forcing him onto all fours with his ass thrust high and his face pressed into the fabric. The lacy black panties still clung uselessly around one thigh; Grant ripped them aside with a sharp yank that tore the delicate lace, baring the smooth, twitching hole completely. Hana’s half-hard cock dangled heavy between his spread thighs, already dripping a thin string of precome onto the cushions as he arched back eagerly.

“Ass up higher, slut,” Grant snarled, one palm cracking hard across a soft cheek hard enough to leave a blooming red print. He spat a thick wad of saliva straight onto the heavy head of his veined cock, stroking it once to slick the shaft before lining up against that tight pink rim. Without another word of warning he gripped Hana’s slim hips and slammed forward in one savage thrust, burying every brutal inch to the root.

Hana’s scream tore out of him—half agony, half pure ecstasy—as the massive girth forced his hole wide open in a single merciless drive. The burn was white-hot, the stretch impossible, Grant’s thick cock punching deep enough that Hana felt it in his guts. His arms trembled, elbows nearly buckling, but he pushed back hard onto the intrusion, greedy hole clenching and fluttering around the invading shaft.

“Fuck—yes, fill me, stretch me open!” Hana moaned, voice muffled against the cushions. Every nerve ending lit up as Grant’s heavy balls slapped against his own; the older man’s cock was so thick it dragged against his prostate on every millimeter of the forced entry. Interior thoughts spun hot and frantic—finally, after weeks of hallway teasing and filthy texts, Grant was inside him, owning him, splitting him the way he had begged for.

Grant didn’t pause to let him adjust. He pulled almost all the way out until just the fat head stretched the rim, then slammed home again with a wet, brutal smack of skin on skin. The rhythm that followed was merciless doggy-style buggery—deep, punishing strokes that rocked Hana’s entire body forward with every thrust. Grant’s fingers dug into those slim hips hard enough to bruise, thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh, yanking the femboy back to meet each savage plunge so that Hana’s ass jiggled and rippled around the thick cock pounding into him.

“Take it, you cock-hungry little slut,” Grant growled, voice low and guttural. One hand slid up Hana’s spine, tangled in his soft hair, then wrapped lightly around the front of his throat, squeezing just enough to make the femboy’s breath hitch and his vision spark. “Been walking around this building in those tiny skirts flashing that pretty hole, sending me pictures of it stretched on plugs—knew exactly what you were asking for. This tight femboy ass is mine to wreck. Listen to that wet slap. You’re dripping down your thighs for it.”

Hana choked out a needy moan around the light pressure on his throat, pushing back eagerly onto every brutal stroke. His cock bounced and leaked steadily beneath him, untouched and throbbing, smearing sticky precome across his own belly with the force of Grant’s hips. The thigh-high socks clung damply to his calves; the pink crop top had ridden up under his armpits so his smooth chest dragged against the couch with every thrust. He loved it—loved the burn that had turned into liquid fire, loved the way Grant’s cock felt like it was rearranging his insides, loved the degrading filthy talk that made his hole clench tighter.

“Harder—please, wreck me harder,” Hana gasped, voice ragged and ecstatic. “I’m your slut, Grant. Use my hole, bruise me, choke me, fuck me like you own every inch. God, your cock is so thick—feels so good stretching me open. Don’t stop, never stop pounding me.” Interior heat flooded him; every slam of those powerful hips drove the fat head against his prostate until sparks burst behind his eyes. He rocked back shamelessly, meeting the rhythm, the wet filthy sounds of his thoroughly used hole echoing through the apartment along with the sharp slap of Grant’s hips against his ass.

Grant tightened his grip on Hana’s throat and hips both, fingers leaving dark marks that would last for days, and drove even deeper, angling to grind mercilessly over that sweet spot. “Look at you taking every inch like the greedy cock-sleeve you are. Makeup smeared, panties ripped, hole stretched wide around my dick—perfect little femboy whore. Weeks of you teasing me in the hallways, brushing that ass past me, begging in texts for this exact rough fucking. Now you’re getting it. Feel how deep I am? That’s me owning this tight ass. Push back harder, slut. Milk my cock with that greedy hole.”

Hana obeyed instantly, slamming his hips back with desperate force, moaning brokenly as the thick shaft pistoned in and out. Sweat slicked both their bodies; Grant’s heavy breathing rasped against his ear while the older man’s free hand occasionally cracked another sharp spank across already-reddened cheeks. The light choking made Hana dizzy with lust, every restricted breath heightening the pleasure-pain of the brutal stretch. His own cock jerked and leaked a continuous stream, balls drawn up tight, the need to come building white-hot at the base of his spine even though no one had touched him.

“Gonna flood this wrecked hole,” Grant snarled, thrusts turning short, vicious, and impossibly deep. “Take my cum, you cock-hungry slut. Every drop deep inside where it belongs.” He slammed home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed hard. Thick ropes of hot cum erupted, flooding Hana’s thoroughly used ass in long, heavy spurts. Grant kept grinding through it, growling filthy praise, fingers still bruising those slim hips and lightly squeezing the femboy’s throat while his seed overflowed around the thick shaft and dripped down Hana’s smooth balls.

Hana cried out in pure bliss as the hot flood filled him, hole clenching greedily around the pulsing cock, milking every drop. His own untouched cock jerked hard beneath him and spilled across the cushions in messy ropes, body shaking violently with the force of his orgasm. He kept pushing back even as Grant’s cum leaked out around the still-buried shaft, moaning brokenly, “Yes—fill me, claim me, keep fucking me full…”

Grant stayed buried deep, breathing hard against Hana’s neck, cock still thick and half-hard inside the cum-slick heat. He gave a slow, deliberate grind that made more seed drip out, then leaned down to bite the femboy’s ear. “We’re not close to done. That was just the first load. This hole stays open and ready for me all night.” Hana shivered under him, already aching for more, the brutal stretch and the messy heat inside him promising that the night—and the wrecking—had only just begun.

Grant stayed buried to the root for long, throbbing seconds, his thick cock still twitching as the last spurts of cum emptied into Hana’s overstretched hole. The femboy’s body trembled beneath him, thighs quaking in the damp thigh-highs, hole fluttering weakly around the massive shaft that had just flooded him. Grant’s breath rasped hot against the back of Hana’s neck. He rolled his hips once more in a slow, grinding circle that forced another thick rivulet of seed to leak out around the base and drip down Hana’s smooth balls onto the couch cushions already soaked with their combined mess.

Then he pulled out.

The thick cock dragged free with a wet, obscene sound, the fat head popping past the ruined rim and leaving Hana’s hole gaping wide open. Grant sat back on his heels between the femboy’s spread knees, one hand still braced on a slim hip, and stared down at the wreckage he had made. Hana’s pink hole was a loose, glistening wreck—stretched into a dark, glistening O that pulsed open and closed in slow spasms, unable to close. Thick white cum poured from it in heavy ropes, sliding down the crack of his ass, coating his balls, and pooling on the fabric below. The rim was swollen and shiny, flushed deep red from the brutal pounding, flecked with frothy cream that kept welling up and spilling over.

“Jesus fuck,” Grant muttered, voice thick with raw satisfaction. He reached down with both thumbs and spread Hana’s cheeks wider, opening the gaping ruin even more so he could watch another gush of his own cum slide free. “Look at that. Completely destroyed. That tight little femboy hole I just spent weeks jacking off to is nothing but a dripping, open mess now. I split you wide open, exactly like you begged for.”

Hana whimpered into the cushions, still face-down and spent, his own cock soft and sticky against his belly where he had painted himself earlier. Every muscle ached sweetly. The emptiness after that massive cock left him made his hole clench uselessly, more cum pulsing out with each flutter. Interior heat still rolled through him—pride mixed with bone-deep satisfaction that he had taken every brutal inch and still wanted more. He pushed his ass higher instinctively, presenting the ruined opening for Grant’s eyes, loving the feel of cool air kissing the oversensitive rim and the warm trickle of seed continuing to leak down his thighs.

Grant released one cheek only long enough to deliver a sharp, open-handed slap right across the gaping hole. The wet smack sent another splash of cum flying. Hana cried out, a broken moan of pure pleasure, hips jerking. Grant did it again, watching the loose entrance quiver and spill. “Such a pretty fucking wreck. Makeup ruined, crop top shoved up, panties torn to shit, and this ass looking like it got hit by a truck. Perfect.”

He stood fully then, towering over the spent femboy on the couch. His cock hung heavy and shiny, still half-hard, slick from root to tip with a thick coating of cum and the natural slick from Hana’s thoroughly used hole. Veins stood out along the shaft; the head glistened. Without waiting, Grant fisted a hand in Hana’s soft hair and hauled him up and off the couch cushions, forcing the slender body down onto the floor on his knees. Hana landed hard on the rug, thigh-high socks sliding, hands bracing on Grant’s thick thighs as he was dragged forward until that massive, filthy cock bobbed right in front of his smeared lips.

“Clean it,” Grant ordered, voice low and absolute. “Every fucking inch. Tongue and mouth. Get all that cum and your own slut juices off my cock. You made this mess when you begged me to wreck you—now you swallow every drop of it.”

Hana’s wide eyes lifted, glassy with leftover lust and fresh hunger. At twenty-two he had dreamed of exactly this: being used raw and then forced to worship the cock that had just ruined him. He opened his glossy, swollen mouth without hesitation and leaned in. The first long swipe of his tongue started at the heavy balls, still drawn up and sticky, licking slowly upward along the veined underside. The taste exploded across his tongue—bitter-salt cum mixed with the deeper musk of his own stretched hole. He moaned around it, cock twitching weakly between his own legs as he lapped higher, cleaning the shaft with broad, eager strokes.

Grant’s hand stayed locked in his hair, controlling the pace, guiding Hana’s face so the femboy had no choice but to work every inch. “That’s it. Get under the head. Suck the slit clean. I flooded that hole and now you’re going to drink whatever’s left on me.” Hana obeyed, wrapping his full lips around the thick crown and sucking hard, tongue delving into the slit to chase the last pearly drops. He bobbed lower, taking more of the still-impressive girth into his throat until his nose pressed against the dark hair at the base, gagging softly around the stretch while his tongue worked the underside. Spit and leftover cum mixed and ran down his chin, dripping onto the pink crop top still bunched under his arms.

He pulled off with a wet gasp only long enough to lick long stripes up the shaft again, cleaning every ridge and vein, then dove back down to suck the balls into his mouth one at a time, rolling them on his tongue while his hands stroked what his lips couldn’t reach. Interior thoughts spun hot and hazy—he loved the dominance, the way Grant held him there and made him service the cock that had just split him open. His own hole still gaped and leaked steadily onto the floor between his knees, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he had been claimed. Every swirl of his tongue, every wet suck, sent fresh pulses of need through his spent body.

Grant watched through half-lidded eyes, breathing hard, hips giving tiny involuntary thrusts into the warm, eager mouth. “Fucking beautiful. Look at you on your knees, makeup streaked, sucking my cum-covered cock like the greedy little whore you are. Weeks of hallway teasing and dirty texts all led to this—my dick buried in your throat after I just finished turning your ass into a dripping cumdump.” He held Hana there for another full minute, letting the femboy work until the entire length shone clean and wet only with spit.

Finally Grant eased his grip and pulled free. Hana stayed on his knees, panting, lips shiny and swollen, chin a mess of spit and residual cream. Grant dropped heavily onto the couch behind him, thick thighs spread, cock still glistening but now soft enough that it rested heavy against his leg. He reached down, hooked Hana under the arms, and hauled the slender femboy up into his lap so Hana straddled him face-to-face, gaping hole still leaking slowly onto Grant’s thigh. They sat like that, chests heaving, sweat cooling on skin, Grant’s big hands roaming lazily over Hana’s bruised hips and the red handprints on his ass.

Hana rested his forehead against Grant’s solid shoulder, breath evening out in slow shudders. The ache in his hole was deep and perfect, a throbbing reminder that would make every step tomorrow a sweet torment. “That was… everything I asked for,” he whispered, voice hoarse from screaming and throat-fucking. “Brutal. Exactly how I needed it.”

Grant’s palm stroked up and down the smooth line of Hana’s back under the bunched crop top. “You took it like you were made for it. That hole is going to be sore as hell tomorrow. You’ll feel me every time you sit down or walk past my door in one of those tiny skirts.” He tilted Hana’s chin up, kissed him slow and filthy, tasting himself on the femboy’s tongue. “We’re doing this again tomorrow night. Same time. Door unlocked. I want you plugged and dripping already when I walk in so I can just bend you over and start wrecking you all over again. No warmup next time. Just straight brutal buggery until you can’t walk straight for a week.”

Hana’s spent cock gave a weak twitch against Grant’s stomach at the promise. He nodded eagerly, nuzzling into the older man’s neck, already imagining the next round of hallway glances and the filthy texts that would fly all day. “Yes. Tomorrow night. I’ll be ready—plug in, panties soaked, everything. Pound me just as hard. Harder if you want. I want to wake up the day after still gaping and full of you.”

They stayed tangled like that for long minutes, catching their breath, Grant’s fingers idly playing with the loose rim of Hana’s ruined hole, sliding two thick fingers in and out just to feel how open and slick it still was, pushing more cum out onto his own thigh. Hana moaned softly into each lazy thrust of those fingers, body pliant and sated yet already hungry again. The apartment smelled of sex and sweat and spilled seed. Outside, the building was quiet; inside, the two of them existed in the warm, sticky aftermath of everything they had circled toward for weeks.

Grant finally eased his fingers free, wiped them on Hana’s soft inner thigh, and wrapped both arms around the femboy’s narrow waist, holding him close. Hana melted against the solid wall of muscle, thigh-highs still on, crop top half-off, the torn lace of his panties forgotten on the floor. Tomorrow night could not come soon enough.

They never noticed the apartment door across the hall had been cracked open the entire time.