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He should stop this. This filling and surrounding, stroking, squeezing, licking, pinching. Hands everywhere, every inch of him caressed by evil. But how could evil feel so good? He’d anticipated pain, but the burning throbbing ache only matched his empty, needy centre. He would never speak of this. Not for fear of the opinions of others, but the lack of words- to say he was being fucked did not, could not, describe this. The word is too soulless to explain this drowning in sensation, of ghosting hands and mouths, causing pleasure all over, in previously unremarkable places. One would consider a cock in your ass to be a focus point, but with one in his mouth, and hands, mouths, tongues, fingers everywhere, he ceases to resist. Here, in the unreal world, he can surrender himself to the sensations of one man as many.