The Goa Love Story/ Evil Version

Changing the romance to straight up fuckery for this part, enjoy who likes dom-sub dynamic.

By the eighth night in Anjuna the romantic haze had started to thin. Jake still kissed me soft in the mornings, still made chai the way I liked, still held me when we slept. But something hungrier had been growing in him. He watched me longer when I walked around the shack naked. His hands got rougher when he fucked me. He started talking dirtier, calling me his little Indian whore between thrusts, and I came harder every time he did.

That night he waited until we were both half-drunk on cheap whiskey and the sea was loud outside.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he said, voice low. “Two guys from the hostel. Americans. Saw you with me the other day and asked if the pretty brown boy was available. I told them maybe. If you want it.”

My stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

Jake’s blue eyes stayed steady. “I mean I want to watch them wreck you. I want to see how many white cocks that tight Indian hole can take. I want to hear you beg like a proper slut.”

I should have said no. Instead my cock twitched against my thigh and my face burned.
“…Okay.”
He smiled, slow and dark. “Good boy.”

They showed up an hour later. Both white, both taller than me, both already half-hard in their shorts. One was called Matt—stocky, thick arms, a heavy gut, maybe late twenties. The other was Chris; leaner, meaner eyes, tattoos on his forearms. They looked at me like I was already naked.

Jake didn’t bother with introductions for long. He just nodded at me.
“Strip.”

I did. The three of them watched while I pulled off my shirt and shorts. My brown skin looked darker under the single bulb. My cock was already filling, five and a half inches of smooth, darker meat, foreskin half-retracted. Matt whistled.

“Fuck, look at that little brown clitty. Cute.”

Chris stepped closer and grabbed my jaw, tilting my face up. “You ever take more than one cock at once, princess?”

I shook my head.

Jake’s voice came from behind me, calm. “He will tonight.”

They didn’t ease in. Chris pushed me to my knees on the hard floor. Matt already had his shorts down. His cock was thick, maybe seven inches, uncut, the head fat and already wet. Chris’s was longer; closer to eight, cut, veiny, with a heavy set of balls. Jake stood off to the side, arms crossed, already stroking his own seven-and-a-half-inch cock as he watched.

“Open,” Chris said.

I did. He shoved in without warning, the blunt head stretching my lips wide. I gagged immediately. He didn’t care. He held the back of my head and started fucking my throat in short, deep strokes. Spit ran down my chin onto my chest. Matt stepped in and slapped his heavy cock against my cheek.

“Tongue out. Get both of them wet.”

I tried. Chris pulled back just enough for me to gasp, then Matt pushed in next to him. Two thick white cocks sliding over my tongue at once, stretching my jaw until it ached. They took turns, sometimes both at the same time, rubbing their heads together inside my mouth while I choked and drooled. Jake’s voice cut through the wet sounds.

“Look at him. Already a mess and we haven’t even touched his hole yet.”

When they finally pulled out, strings of spit connected my lips to their cocks. Chris wiped his dick across my face, smearing it.

“On the bed. Ass up.”

I crawled onto the narrow mattress. Jake moved behind me first. He didn’t prep me gently this time. Two slick fingers shoved straight in, scissoring hard. I hissed. He added a third almost immediately, twisting them until I was open and dripping.

“He’s ready,” Jake said. “Who wants first?”

Matt did. He rolled on a condom, lined up that thick cock, and pushed. The stretch burned worse than usual; fatter than Jake, forcing my hole wide. I cried out. Matt just laughed and kept going until his gut pressed against my ass.

“Jesus, this Indian cunt is tight.”

He started pounding. No rhythm, just hard, deep thrusts that made the bed slam the wall. Every time he bottomed out I felt it in my stomach. Chris climbed onto the bed in front of me and fed his cock back into my mouth. Now I was being used from both ends; Matt wrecking my hole while Chris fucked my throat. Jake stood beside the bed stroking himself, watching with dark eyes.

“That’s it. Take it like the slut you are.”

They switched without asking. Chris pulled out of my mouth, Matt pulled out of my ass, and they traded places. Chris’s longer cock reached deeper, dragging over my prostate with every thrust until my own cock was leaking steadily onto the sheets. Matt held my head still and face-fucked me, balls slapping my chin.

Jake finally moved in. He pulled Chris out, pushed him aside, and slid into me himself. His familiar thickness felt almost comforting for half a second; then he started railing me harder than he ever had, one hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back.

“Tell them what you are.”
“I’m a slut,” I gasped.
“Louder.”
“I’m a fucking Indian slut for white cock….”

Matt groaned and shoved back into my mouth to shut me up. Jake kept fucking me through it, relentless. When he pulled out, Chris took his place again. They passed my hole around like it belonged to all of them. Condoms came off at some point; Jake’s decision.

Bare white cocks sliding into me one after another, stretching me open, leaving me dripping.

At one point they flipped me onto my back. Matt held my legs open while Chris fucked me deep. Jake straddled my chest and pushed his cock between my lips again. Three white bodies over me, three hard cocks using every hole. My own cock slapped against my stomach untouched, dark against the pale sheets, leaking constantly.

“Look at that little brown dick bouncing,” Matt said, laughing. “Doesn’t even need it, does he? Just needs to get filled.”

Chris came first, buried to the hilt, flooding my hole with thick pulses. He pulled out and immediately Matt took his place, slamming in and adding his own load a minute later. Jake was last. He flipped me onto my stomach, mounted me, and fucked me through both their cum until he shot deep inside too. When he finally pulled out, I felt everything leak down my thighs; three loads mixed, running over my balls and onto the mattress.

They weren’t done.

Chris made me suck the taste of my own ass off his cock while Matt slapped my used hole with his half-hard dick. Jake sat back against the wall, watching, already stroking himself hard again.

“One more round,” he said quietly. “Make sure he remembers it.”

They did.

By the time the second round ended I could barely close my legs. My hole was swollen, red, and leaking steadily. My throat was raw. My face was streaked with spit and cum. The three of them stood over me, white cocks shiny and spent, looking down at the mess they’d made of the Indian boy on the bed.

Jake crouched beside me, stroked my hair almost gently, then pushed two fingers back into my open hole and scooped some of the cum up to my mouth.

“Swallow.”
I did.
He smiled.
“Good slut.”

Outside, the sea kept moving like nothing had changed. Inside the shack, I lay there dripping and used, three white loads still warm inside me, and for the first time I didn’t feel like someone’s boyfriend.

I felt like what they’d made me.