Corrupted Gangbang (Part 1 of 2)

Alice got the boot from her straight job. One week later she’s hunched over a monitor in a dim editing bay, sweat on her collar, scrubbing footage of five women turning a guy inside out. Camera catches the skirt they stuffed him into, the black fishnets stretched over thick thighs, the heels that pitch him forward every time another strap-on slams home. One by one they circle—red lips, gloved fists—force a fat silicone cock down his throat till his eyes water, spit stringing from chin to floor. When they flip him, his hole is already shiny, twitching. They take turns driving in, each thrust a little meaner, until the rim blooms open around nothing and they laugh. A fist follows, knuckles flexing past the ring, wrist twisting deeper while the others hold his cheeks wide. The lens lingers on the pink stretch, the slow prolapse that makes the Dommes coo like they’ve found buried treasure. Lights hot, sound raw, and Alice’s pulse is hammering through every frame.