12: Cain, Angelo, and Tobias (Greenwich Village)

Cain, Angelo, Tobias, and the outline for this story were developed in collaboration with a member who prefers to remain anonymous. The story itself was then written by me. This installment is a testament to the vibrant, hot creativity of Louche Lothario readers. I invite you to celebrate this art by diving into the narrative. If you’re interested in collaborating on your own story, please fill out this form with all your depraved details. Your ideas could inspire Leo’s next steamy adventure.

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Weeknights are all the same for me: If I’m not traveling for work, then I’m working late at the office. I eat my meal preps at my desk through the day, then head home. I decide whether to smoke a joint or not; maybe I read. Maybe I go for a run.

This particular Wednesday however, my whole schedule was thrown out of wack because my alarm, which runs on batteries, did not go off. You see, I don’t use the alarm on my phone. I use an alarm clock that I keep on my cabinet across the room from my bed. This forces me to get out of bed to turn it off.

But today, I woke up late because the batteries in that clock died overnight.

With no time for my typical morning gym routine, I had to hit the weights after work instead. I’m not a morning person, but I have to workout before work because after work, I’m too tired.

Alas, I decided to push through. I hit the gym, amassing a huge pump in my chest and triceps — truly, I looked massive. Who cares if it would disappear in a few hours? I was determined to enjoy the pump for now.

And since I didn’t have to rush into the office since it had been an evening workout, I decided to hit the sauna.

I’d worked late, then weightlifted for an hour. It was late and the sauna was to close in fifteen minutes. Then, fifteen minutes after that, the whole gym would close. Perfect amount of time to sweat before wrapping up a successful workout.

I entered the dry sauna, where I saw only one other guy. Another perk of working out so late was that this particular gym was largely empty.

The man in question was a baby-faced guy with a muscular build. Not very big, but definitely strong. He was a ginger with green eyes and freckles. Undeniably handsome, but I assumed he might find me a little old for him as I approached 30 and he was… 22? 23? The baby face was throwing me off.

In any case, I wasn’t here to hook up with him. I was here to keep this sweat going.

I sat on the bench across from him, down on the other end so as to not disturb him.

He glanced at me, and seeing the motion out of the corner of my eye, I glanced up, too. We made eye contact, but he glanced back down shortly after.

Hmm, I thought.

Again, from the corner of my eye, I saw him staring. I let him for a few moments, to be sure he was taking in the view of my pumped-up muscles. I knew he was looking at me, but he didn’t know I knew. I was starting to enjoy our coy glances.

I shot a look back to him and this time, he didn’t avert his gaze. Sitting with my back against the seatback and my hands in my lap, I discreetly, simply, flexed the bicep on the side he could see, without moving my hand from my lap. Just tightening my bicep and shoulder causing my worked-out, pumped-up muscles to bulge and the vein in my bicep to pop, just so.

He adjusted his towel, then sat back and clearly showed off his abs to me.

I smiled.

He smiled.

We were the only two in the sauna, but he still glanced around before standing and walking over toward me. He sat directly across from me.

“My name’s Cain, what’s up.” he said. His question was definitely delivered more like a statement.

“Leo,” I said. “Nice to meet you. I’m well.”

He seemed shy, but then again, he was initiating the interaction. “You a bodybuilder?”

“No,” I said, frankly surprised by the inquiry. “I suppose I just really enjoy muscle.”

“Me too,” he smiled.

“You some sort of athlete?” I asked in return. “Great build yourself.”

“Something like that,” he gave a light chuckle. “Firefighter.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, man. On the FDNY calendar and everything. Mr. September this year.” He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at himself, but assured me he was serious.

“Impressive,” I said, genuinely.

“Yeah, like those arms,” he said, gesturing toward my guns. “You know your bicep measurement?”

“Unfortunately not… last time I checked I was at 16-and-a-half inches, but it’s been a while,” I replied. “I wouldn’t measure now, though. Just did chest and triceps. Pump would skew the measurements.”

“I’d like to see those arms flexed,” he said.

A drop of sweat noticably ran from my sweat-slicked hair down my face and dropped directly into my navel.

“I’d also love to know your ab routine,” he added, having followed the sweat drop as it flicked into the depth of my belly button.

I chuckled slightly, “Doesn’t look like you need any help with your abs.”

He smiled.

Pulling a card from Cain’s book, I, too, glanced around before I flashed a double bicep flex for him. His face went simp as he gazed at my muscular arms. He got up from his seat and crossed over to sit next to me, reaching up to grab my right bicep.

“Fuck, your arms are wild, man,” he said as he caressed the peaks of the solid muscle. I brought my arm down, then flexing my tricep for him. He eagerly manhandled it before reaching around to my right pec muscle. “You just trained these, too, huh?”

He squeezed my relaxed pec meat as he practically drooled.

Both of our cocks were visibly hard under our towels now, and we had both definitely noticed.

“I, uh, dunno if this is too much for a first time meeting,” he began, “but I have a huge fantasy of being roughed up by a safe, sane muscle man while I admire his body.”

He’d really emphasized the “safe and sane” part, but he had nothing to worry about with me.

“Oh yeah?” I started. He didn’t know who he was talking to. “I want to start by roughing up your abs.”

“Fuck yeah, bro,” he said, finally bringing out the gym bro language.

I walked him to the back of the dry sauna, close to the heating elements but far from the door. I pressed him to the tiled wall, which I could tell sent a scalding, but exhilarating, feeling through him. I could feel his heart racing under my palm against his chest.

I placed my right fist against his belly. I could feel his the outlines of his abs muscles as I moved my fist up and down his stomach, but could tell he wasn’t flexing.

This told me three things: He wanted me to punch him. It wasn’t about showing off his hard abs. It was about submission.

I looked at his muscular gut, his well-developed pecs, and his green eyes, begging me to get on with it already. His pits, sweaty from whatever workout he completed plus however long he’s been in this sauna, permeated the tight space between us with a wickedly sexy musk.

I gently pressed into his sweat-soaked abs a couple times to confirm he wasn’t planning to flex, then sank a modestly hard punch into the center of his belly.

An involuntary uff was punched out of his soft core as he almost doubled forward, before he stopped himself. He stood back up against the wall, as if he wanted another.

“You have gym bros gutpunch you often?” I asked.

“No, not really,” he answered, likely clocking that I knew the gutpunching lingo, since I hadn’t asked more broadly, do you normally let guys punch you in the relaxed stomach. “Worked out this time is all.”

I sank another, equal punch into his belly. He allowed the modest breath to be punched out of him, but overall took the hit in stride and remained ready for another.

“You ever get into this?” he asked me.

“Oh, this is exactly what I’m into,” I smirked. I drove another, this time harder and deeper, punch into the pit of his belly. This time, I earned an honest ooh from him, stronger than the grunts that came before it. I relished how deep and spongy his gut was with his comparatively small frame.

I grabbed his right arm and maneuvered it up, nonverbally commanding him to flex it. He got the hint, and in fact flexed both arms in a hot double-bicep, as I’d done earlier. With my left hand, I felt the rock-hard muscle of his sizeable biceps, while with my right arm, I pulled back for another punch to his gut, but stronger.

He kept his abs good and soft as my fist drove into his guts, right into the navel, crushing his punching bag belly into his body and doubling him over. His face smacked into my wet, sweaty pecs as my fist pinned him to the wall through his bowels. He breathed deeply, catching his wind as he lay his face on my slick chest hair.

Then, what sounded like a turn of the sauna door handle.

Afraid we’d be caught (What’s worse? Being caught in the sauna giving a blowjob or being caught in the sauna appearing to assault another member?), we separated, only to find that it was the heat of the sauna itself causing the metal, wood, and other components of the room to pop, warp, and settle.

Still, we were sufficiently spooked. “Why don’t we finish this off at my place?” he asked. I was frankly surprised. I figured we’d had all the fun we’d have — my cock had gone soft in the short moment of interruption, in fact.

But so pleased was I by his invite, that I earnestly agreed. He removed his towel, revealing an average (if not girthy) dick and trimmed bush. He reapplied his towel so it covered the red circle on his gut, where he’d just taken several punches. We stepped into the gym, hit the lockers, and changed without showering.

We were excited to keep playing — why shower when you both clearly enjoy musk and you’re about to sweat again anyway?

We headed out. To the right would have been a healthy walk down 10th Street would have led to Tompkins Square Park, where my apartment is located on the bottom edge on 7th. But we went to the left instead, heading into Greenwich Village.

As we walked, he filled me in on his living situation. He was in a polycule with two other lovers — both men — who were also into gutpunching. They often find a fourth to beat up (or to beat them up) by using Grindr, Recon, or Sniffies, but having found me in real life by cruising at the gym would be a remarkable first for them. He had texted them to give them a heads up while he changed clothes earlier — they eagerly awaited my arrival.

We finally made it to his apartment near the corner of 8th Street and 6th Avenue. A restaurant was located on the first floor, with the door to the apartments above located to the left of the restaurant entrance. We trudged our exhausted bodies up the stairs to the top — fifth — floor.

A handsome bear cub-type man opened the door as we arrived, as he had heard us chatting while we walked up the steps. He was shirtless, showing off his gorgeous belly, broad chest, and powerful arms. He wore glasses, which accented his good-looking face that sported a thin beard.

“Leo,” I said as I shook his hand.

“Tobias,” he said. “Let’s have some fun.”

Standing from the couch was the third and final man in Cain and Tobias’ polycule. He appeared hairy and muscular, rugged, and, to be honest, a little disheveled. Especially compared to Tobias’ mostly clean-cut look and Cain’s baby face. He appears to be gruff and stern, but upon opening his mouth to speak you could tell he was actually quite harmless.

“Angelo,” he said as he introduced himself. “I just got home from work like five minutes ago.” He laughed.

“I’m a builder, spend all day lifting heavy shit in the sun,” he explained. “I can shower before we play, though.”

Cain, Tobias, and I each declined his offer for him to shower with a brief chorus of “Nah,” “Don’t worry about it,” and Cain’s own direct “No.”

He laughed softly and raised his arms as if to say, Okay then! with only body language.

“I work for the MoMA,” Tobias said. “I haven’t showered after work today either, but my job is considerably less sweaty.”

We all, except Tobias, chuckled. Tobias was a slightly harder nut to crack. In contrast to Angelo, who had a serious appearance but sunny demeanor, Tobias appeared friendly; kind, even. But seemed to be much more direct.

We took a moment to get comfortable: Tobias came right over to me. Understanding that my visit was erotic in nature, he wasted no time working his way down to business. He lifted my shirt and stuck his hands beneath it, rubbing his palms on my belly.

“Mmm,” he grumbled. “Feels tough.”

“Very,” I replied. I was flexing my abs about 75%, if I had to guess. Definitely not fully tightened, still giving in when he pressed as he rubbed.

“Well, boys,” Tobias smirked as he turned to his polycule, “what are we waiting for?”

I was still sweaty from the workout, the sauna, and the stifling humidity of the New York City summer evening from the walk over here. From the looks of things, Cain was, too.

I whipped my shirt off over my head. Cain had already seen the goods, but Tobias and Angelo both audibly reacted to my body, still pumped from chest-and-tri day.

“You’re first,” Tobias said with a sense of authority, placing his hand on my chest and pushing me backward into Angelo’s arms, who had positioned himself there so he could take me in a full nelson.

Held in place from behind with my arms up, my muscular guns must have looked great, however useless they were to protect my innards from what was coming.

Cain walked around to Tobias’ side, eager to watch.

“You gonna flex or take it like a man?” Tobias asked as he grabbed my waist and pressed his thumbs into my unflexed navel, digging them into my intestinal punching bag and causing my semi-hard cock to grow solid.

I felt like being cheeky and replied, “My abs are just for show. This gut’s just a punching bag. Hurt me."

It was my final command that got Tobias to crack a smile. He plowed an uppercut into the center of my stomach, where the bottom of his fist met the top of my navel. He was a big guy, but the punch wasn’t his hardest, I could tell. Still, his body had some decent power in it and the punch knocked the breath out of me.

“Harder,” I said.

With this, Angelo tightened his hold on me and Cain, who had stripped totally naked, became visibly excited, and began to jack off as he watched.

Tobias drove another uppercut into my guts, and another. He targeted my navel mostly, but with my abs relaxed and my muscle gut pushing out my gym shorts, the third uppercut drove into my lower guts, cramming my bowels into the middle of my belly before he pulled his fist back.

UGH

“Don’t tell me you’re hurting already,” Tobias said with a sinister look.

“Not at all,” I said.

Angelo chimed in, “Pretend he’s not even here,” he said to Tobias, about me. “Punch my gut. Through him.”

Tobias kept his deviant expression as he adjusted his stance before launching his fist as though from a cannon, straight into my lax abs. His knuckles flattened my navel into my body, brutally impacting the soft loops and turns of my unprotected intestines. Earning a solid, pained grunt from me as he worked my innards. Cain, still jacking off, had to stop. Presumably to prevent himself from cumming at the sight of my muscular body being punched deep in the guts, something I get the feeling he is usually on the receiving end of here in this polycule.

I could feel Angelo’s hard, muscular body against mine.

“Wait, wait,” I said.

“Can’t take the bellyache?” Tobias needled.

“No, no — if you stop punching me in the guts I’ll be fuckin’ pissed,” I joked, “Angelo… relax your body. I want you to feel this beating through my gut.”

Angelo laughed in such a way that he sounded genuinely excited. I felt the solid six pack against my back relax, and upon that, I pressed him against the wall to feel his breath pushed out against the nape of my neck.

“Take it all, man,” Angelo whispered into my ear. “Give in to his fists. There’s nothing like it.”

Tobias had stepped a few paces away to take a sip from a water bottle sitting on a nearby table. Cain was watching Tobias. No one heard Angelo but me.

Upon his return, Tobias used his left hand to massage my lower abs: pressing into my guts, grabbing the soft meat of my belly with his large hand and squeezing it — just playing with my soft innards. He made a fist and pressed it into my lower gut, well below my navel, causing my navel and upper belly to bulge out from the displaced innards.

In this position, with his left fist both certifying that my abs are relaxed and bunching my intestines up into a single area of my gut, he then slammed his right fist hard into my bulged-out navel area. His fist plowed deep into my gut and felt as though the pressure of the punch had winded Angelo, too, who grunted as my own eager guts cried out in pain and exhilaration as I tried to catch my breath.

To follow up, Tobias launched a hard punch into my bowels, slamming deep into my lower gut, wrecking my lower intestines. He kept his fist pressed in deep, again bulging out my navel area by pressing into my V-lines. Again, he pounded into what felt like the entirety of my intestinal tract that had been crammed together behind my navel.

“I need a fucking turn,” Cain said excitedly.

“Dibs,” I said as I caught my breath again, half joking. But they obeyed anyway. Angelo let me go. As my arms fell, the first thing I did was cradle and massage my own guts as Cain approached me.

I took him in an embrace and kissed him. Tobias took Angelo and did the same. With Tobias holding Angelo against the wall, I maneuvered Cain to the wall alongside Angelo as we continued to makeout.

His mouth was dry from excitement and anticipation, I could tell. This wasn’t a turn-off, but rather vindication. I began massaging his doughy six pack that he was keeping relaxed for me. He moaned into my mouth as I took my big right hand and grabbed his soft belly, closing my fist and crushing his loose innards in my grip as best I could. Under my grasp and through his soft abdominal muscles, I could faintly feel the loops of his intestines slipping from my grip as I moved my grasped hand, effectively pulling on his belly. He pulled his face away from mine, and I saw his eyes were rolled back as he said softly, Fuuuuuuuck.

I let go of his belly and watched it snap right back into its natural state: a set of relaxed six pack abs.

I couldn’t bear to ignore his pecs. I gently tongued his right nipple as I prepared to beat his gut. My fist gently tapped his soft abs.

“Please, Leo,” he moaned, “Oh, fuck, please punch me.”

OOF!

He grunted hard as I slugged a fist hard into his innards, using his navel as a bullseye. I was again surprised at how deep his guts seemed to go. I could really drive deep into this guy’s belly. Still tonguing his nipple, he didn’t double over, but the punch definitely hurt.

I peered to the side to see Angelo’s impressive abs totally slack. While Angelo and Tobias continued to makeout, Tobias kept a steady, methodical rhythm of solid, strong punches right into Angelo’s lower gut. Again and again, Tobias’ fist met zero resistance as he sank it deep into Angelo’s bowels. With every impact, Angelo moaned and Tobias answered with a growl of his own.

While watching Tobias and Angelo, I’d sunk several more punches into the baby-faced Cain’s soft muscle gut, building up the ache in his core.

I stood back from Cain and finally removed my gym shorts to become fully nude, which prompted Angelo and Tobias to do the same. The fragrant musk of four sweaty cocks and four sets of pits filled the room. Intoxicating as that is already, I pulled my bottle of poppers from my gym bag before returning to Cain.

“Anyone into poppers?” I asked.

Though familiar with poppers, none of the three of them had ever punched each other on poppers. We all took turns taking a hit from the bottle.

At once, Angelo and Cain were fiending for gut abuse.

“Oh, fuck, please—”

“Beat my guts, man—”

“Hurt me, please man; hurt me—”

“I need it. Use my intestines, man—”

The two of them just kind of rattled off their beggar’s pleas to Tobias and me, who reveled in their words.

I shoved a palm onto Cain’s chest. He was wildly high with poppers. He breathed deeply into his chest and stretched his belly open for me, nearly vacuuming his stomach.

As Cain did so, Angelo took the folded towel from the top of Cain’s nearby gym bag, rolled it in a swift motion, and placed it behind his back, arching his belly out.

Both men completed these actions so quickly and assuredly that they were still reeling in popper-induced euphoria as my fist busted into Cain’s totally pliant, fully opened belly. His muscles did not tighten at all; his innards gave instantly to the power of my fist. He doubled up onto me, but immediately straightened back up and presented his open gut for another.

Tobias’s fist connected hard with Angelo’s navel, instantly causing a bolt of pain to fill the man’s stretched-open gut. Angelo was clearly hurt by the punch, but appeared to fucking love it. He doubled over, but breathed momentarily before arching his back over the rolled towel once again.

With Cain’s wide open, nearly vacuumed belly before me, I played with his spongy organs like Tobias had done to me: I pressed a fist into his lower gut, pressing his intestines into his navel, where I devastated them with a strong hook. Then, I pressed into his navel, bulging his lower gut out, which I then slammed a fist deep into. He reacted particularly strongly to this one, so I spent a few minutes solely hammering his lower bowels and bladder until Cain’s knees came together and he needed to double over.

Tobias, on the other hand, had appeared to have obliterated Angelo’s intestines through the man’s navel. Eventually Angelo had doubled over, too. But Tobias held him to the wall and, for the last two minutes, had been sending uppercut after uppercut into Angelo’s solar plexus. The stoic Angelo just took it, not attempting to flex his abs, just allowing his loose six pack to envelop the young bear’s fist every time it drove deep into his upper stomach. He wasn’t even grunting anymore — every impact from Tobias’ fist just forced the breath from him, which drew back in when the fist was pulled back, to be punched out again just a moment later. Again, and again.

I took Cain to the couch, where he got on top of me as I laid down. The other two also moved to the couch; but Angelo, who I gathered must have most enjoyed the exceedingly painful gut punishment, chose to lean back over the arm of the couch to fully arch and expose his lean, relaxed abs (and soft innards beneath).

Cain kissed me and I caressed his hair with one hand as I felt his gut with the other. I occasionally launched a punch from me, below, into him, who was leaning above me. Totally relaxed, his muscle gut hung soft from his body. Each punch I launched jostled his liquid-soft belly and forced his breath into my mouth. I eventually began using two fists, sloshing his weakened and beaten intestines from side to side with powerful punches just to the left and right of his navel, which he moaned through.

Tobias, sitting with his sweaty ass in Angelo’s face, massaged the muscled builder’s belly as it lay stretched open over the arm of the couch, Angelo’s feet planted on the floor.

Tobias wrenched his fist back, above him, before bringing it down hard onto Angelo’s unprepared organs. The impact was felt through the couch and made a deathly THUD as it connected with the muscle sub’s stomach. Angelo cried out, but not because he didn’t like it.

“Oh, FUCK,” he finally said. “Oh, fucking Christ. Please! More!”

Tobias wrenched his fist back again as his other hand massaged the man’s arched belly, pulled tight. The second punch landed with equal ferocity to the first, striking dead center. Angelo practically screamed the air out before Tobias, without being begged this time, began to launch into a round of punches into Angelo’s stretched-out navel and lower intestines. Every punch, like the first, made a THUD that I found irresistibly hot to hear, knowing each thud was a strong bear’s fist connecting with a muscle sub’s loose six pack and the soft bowels beneath them.

I changed positions, holding Cain as I drove my fist into his belly again and again. He held onto me, too, allowing my fist to drive into the depths of his innards. The soft, pillowy nature of his guts was intoxicating. I ramped up the power of each punch, eventually not holding back. I was overcome with passion for intestinal tourture, pounding into the depths of his aching, loose guts as deep and powerful as I could, but the muscular firefighter took it in ecstasy.

Cain and I then stood, and I doubled him over with a powerful sucker punch into the pit of his gut. Doubled over, I forced him to allow me into his guts more and more. I began uppercutting him in the dead center of the pit of his belly as he remained doubled over, with the intent of lifting his feet from the floor.

I was unsuccessful in lifting him from the floor, but the mere power I threw behind those punches connected my knuckles with his spine through the dead center of his beaten stomach for 27 consecutive impacts (I counted) before he collapsed to the floor to catch his breath as he writhe with the worst gut pain he’s felt in a long time, if I can estimate. But with his cock rock hard.

I stood over him, dripping in sweat, my pumped up body lording over Cain’s crumpled physique.

On the arm of the couch, Tobias was no longer pounding into Angelo’s navel, but had begun to focus on his lower belly.

THUD

THUD

THUD

Angelo couldn’t even make noise anymore, the pain was so great. I could see his grimacing face from under Tobias’ ass. The hot builder’s eyes were shut tight, mouth open, allowing any breath drawn into his body and punched out of it to pass freely as Tobias’ fist rammed hard into the fit sub’s deepest bowels.

Right fist, left fist, right, left — Tobias’ hard punches straight down into Angelo’s loose abs landed just under the man’s navel, or sometimes lower, just above his large cock (held out of the way of the bear’s fists by Angelo’s own hand), each impact depressing the soft muscle into his stretched body and flattening the muscular guy’s lower intestines and bladder. Tobias was an intimate partner to these men, though, and knew exactly what Angelo enjoyed and how hard he enjoyed it. He had worked up a hearty sweat himself as he brutally beat the man’s loose lower gut.

Finally, he zeroed in on one spot: Tobias pumped punch after brutal punch just above Angelo’s cock, just above his pelvic bone. With Angelo stretched over the arm of the sofa still, each of Tobias’ was clearly devastatingly painful and euphoric for the muscular man beneath him.

Punching this exact spot, presumably something the two of them have done many times, the bear’s fist was pounding directly into Angelo’s prostate through his useless abs and flattened bowels.

Cain and I edged our cocks as we watched Tobias deliver 20 or 25 punches straight into Angelo’s prostate before the beaten muscle sub’s cock exploded cum, totally unaided by the hand that held it out of the way of Tobias’ punches. Under Tobias, Angelo convulsed with pleasure as his dick let loose stream after stream with every punch until Tobias ended with a final plunge into the center pit of the man’s belly, which he kept pressed in for a moment before finally ceasing.

Tobias, now standing up from Angelo and allowing the beaten builder to finally cradle his obliterated intestines, walked to me. He came directly to me, placing his forehead against mine.

“I’m going to punch the cum out of you,” he said. He grabbed me with a firm grip on my pumped arms and practically threw me against the wall. Cain and Angelo began to stand.

A quick assessment of the scene revealed that all four of our cocks were still hard, though Angelo had cum already.

I caught a glimpse of Angelo grabbing the young firefighter and delivering a deep sucker punch into the kid’s gut.

“Fuck—” Cain said, before Angelo cut his breath off with another shot to the intestines.

Angelo shoved Cain against the wall next to me and from there, the two of us appeared primed for our climaxes.

Angelo, beaten and tired himself, found new vigor as he began digging into the twunky firefighter’s belly.

Tobias grabbed my arm and lifted it, placing his face into my pit as he primed his fist. I let him smell and lick my sweaty armpit as his fist shocked my guts with a strong punch to my navel. He moaned as he worshipped my pit and nearby inner bicep, glancing back only briefly to make sure he was aiming for my belly.

As a lover of pit play, the feeling of his scruffy face and slick tongue in my armpits and inner bicep only added to my euphoria as his strong knuckles punched into my stomach.

I took a brief pause to hit the poppers again, as did Tobias and Cain. Angelo abstained, instead focusing on the soft belly of the poppered-up firefighter before him.

As the poppers overtook me again, I begged for Tobias to punch me hard and deep.

He drove his broad shoulder into my pecs, pinning me to the wall. I rotated my hips back, opening up my belly for him as he began to launch his fist into my navel and just below it, almost like he’d done to Angelo before.

As he did, Angelo had targeted the pit of Cain’s gut. Right above his navel, Angelo fired off punch after punch into the dead center of the firefighter’s guts.

The strength of the poppers was intense — every time Tobias’ fist crushed into my bowels, a wave of pain and ecstasy blew through my guts. Again, my lower gut was driven into my spine, and again.

Angelo was now driving uppercuts into Cain’s navel, sloshing the guy’s loose innards up into his diaphragm.

The feeling of each impact into my bowels and the sight of Cain’s own loose six pack being worked over finally overtook me. As Tobias sank another hard cross punch into my belly, I came hard, shooting my load onto the side of the couch a few feet away. Cain, also in ecstasy, came, too, at the sight of me hitting climax from the intestinal abuse.

Tobias kept his fist pressed deep in my guts for a moment before pulling back, then began to jackoff as he stared at us.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned again and again. He looked around at us and felt my wrecked belly with his left hand as he jacked off and repeated himself.

I embraced him from the side, allowing him to continue masturbating. From here, I delivered a few soft (but driven deep) punches to his beary gut. I could tell he wasn’t super into taking punches, but preferred to dish them out.

Still, the light belly play was doing something for him.

A few light, deep punches to his navel and he finally came.

With four men’s loads of cum between us on the floor and couch, we took a moment to rest. Angelo led us to the bedroom where we all took a place on the throuple’s bed.

Eyes closed, I placed a hand on my beaten stomach. I caught my breath as I felt my own gut rise and fall with my breath.