The itch started deep in Asuna’s core, a throbbing need that Kirito’s gentle lovemaking couldn’t scratch. She craved filth, quantity, the brutal stretch of being utterly used. When the message pinged—a location, a time, no names—her pussy dripped in anticipation.

The warehouse was dim, smelling of concrete and male sweat. Five silhouettes awaited, their cocks already thick outlines in their jeans. No words. A tall brute with tattooed knuckles grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. “Open.” She did, and his fat dick slapped her tongue. It tasted salty, musky, real. She gagged greedily, slurping as another man ripped her blouse open, her tits spilling out. Calloused hands mauled her soft flesh, pinching her nipples hard.

“Turn that ass around, slut,” grunted a voice. Bent over a crate, her skirt shoved up, Asuna felt the cold air on her soaked cunt and asshole. A spit-wet thumb probed her back entrance. She whimpered, pushing back. “Fuck yeah, she wants it in the dirtbox,” someone laughed.

The first cock, monstrously veiny, speared her pussy in one brutal thrust. The stretch burned so good, stuffing her completely. Almost immediately, a second dick pressed against her puckered asshole. “Breathe out, whore.” He pushed, and her world split into blinding, painful pleasure. Double-penetrated, stuffed like a fucktoy, she screamed as they set a punishing rhythm. The sounds were obsc