Wax plugs bury your hearing.
Surgical tape buries your sight.
You hang weightless in my harness, legs spread, suspended in the void.
Then the heats descend.
Tyson opens your jaw wide to unhinge with unhinged width, scraping your palate as he tests your circumference.
Leon slides past your gag reflex and keeps going, dragging those thick veins against throat depths you never knew existed.
The heavy one splits your ass with 11 inches of dense, gravitational stone, grinding your prostate until stars explode behind the tape while his wet abdomen slaps your suspended cheeks.
Pressure on the chest.
Scraped at the throat.
Pulverized at your core.
They rotate, flood, and seal your mouth to swallow the sound as they use your body as the medium for their convergence.
In the silence, you are nothing but a hyper-acute vessel for our physics.
Can you endure being my flesh experiment in the void, or will the darkness digest you completely?
Dildo play.
