Chapter 2: The Blind Taste Test: Cock Edition
The ten thousand lira sat untouched on Umut’s chipped nightstand, next to the half-empty whiskey bottle. It was a prop now, a relic from a simpler transaction. The air in the bedroom was close, thick with the smell of rain, stale liquor, and the excited sweat of four men who had crossed a line and decided, unanimously, to burn the map.
Berkay knelt on the worn rug beside the bed, his heart thrashing. The blindfold was a strip of black cotton from Umut’s dresser drawer. It wasn’t about darkness; it was about surrender. It made every other sense scream.
“The money’s shit,” Umut’s voice came from his left, calm, conversational. “We’re not paying for a whore. We’re paying for… forgetting. And this works better.”
“Works better for what?” Berkay asked, his voice muffled by the cloth.
“For this,” İsmail said, closer now. A calloused hand, smelling of chalk and sweat, gripped Berkay’s chin. “For getting out of our own fucking heads. And look, you’re still here. You like it.”
Berkay couldn’t deny it. His own erection strained against his jeans. The shame had mutated, fused with a dark, compelling hunger.
“We’re friends,” Serdem’s rumbling voice added from somewhere near the door. “We do stupid shit together. This is just… the stupidest, best shit.”
Uunt’s fingers threaded into Berkay’s hair, not roughly, but with a possessive familiarity. “So, new game. Since we’re all enjoying the filth so much. You guess who you’re tasting. You’re wrong, you keep going until you’re right. We’ll help you.”
A cold, slick drop of lube landed on Berkay’s lower lip. He flinched.
“Open,” İsmail commanded.
He did. A finger, thick and demanding, pushed into his mouth. It explored, tracing his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. The taste was neutral, just clean skin and lubricant. Berkay sucked on it instinctively.
“Guess,” Umut said.
“İsmail,” Berkay mumbled around the finger. “Gym calluses.”
The finger withdrew. A slap landed on his cheek—stinging, but playful. “Wrong. Serdem. One point for the giant,” İsmail laughed.
Serdem’s low chuckle vibrated through the floor. “My turn.”
Something was placed against Berkay’s lips. Not skin. Fabric. Thick, damp, musky cotton. A sock. The ripe, fermented scent of a long day filled his nostrils. He recoled, but a hand on the back of his head held him firm.
“Lick it, detective,” Umut teased. “Figure it out.”
Gagging, Berkey extended his tongue and dragged it across the wet, salty fabric. The flavor was intensely sour, overwhelmingly personal. He thought of the warehouse, of İsmail’s feet. “İsmail,” he coughed.
Another slap. “Wrong again, fuckpig. That’s my workout sock from Tuesday. You just tongued my three-day-old foot sweat. Keep licking. Get it clean.”
Berkay groaned, a sound that mixed disgust with a perverse thrill. He lapped at the cloth, his tongue gathering the gritty salt, until Umut pulled it away.
“Alright, enough warm-up. Let’s get to the good stuff.”
Strong hands guided him forward. His face met warm, smooth skin. A thigh. Massive. He nuzzled along it, inhaling. The scent here was soap and clean sweat, but underneath, the deep, vegetal scent of a groin. He licked a long stripe from knee upward. The skin was hairless.
“Serdem,” Berkay said, his voice gaining confidence.
“Yeah,” Serdem breathed. “Good.” A reward: a rough kiss planted on top of Berkay’s blindfolded head.
Next, he was pulled to a standing position. Arms guided his hands to place them on a hard, rounded surface. A bicep, pumped and veiny. He leaned in, opening his mouth and sucking the curve of the muscle. He tasted salt, a hint of citrus pre-workout, and the unmistakable iron scent of blood just beneath the skin. He bit down gently.
“Fuck, yeah,” İsmail grunted. “That’s me. Guess right, you greedy fuck.”
Berkay smiled, a weird pride flickering. He was pulled down again. This time, his face was pressed into a damp, hairy hollow. An armpit. The aroma was explosive—spicy, deeply musky, a potent cocktail of deodorant failure and pure male essence. He burrowed in, licking fervently, trying to place it. The hair was coarse, dense.
“Umut,” Berkay declared.
“Correct.” Umut’s voice was thick with pleasure. “Now, here.”
A thumb pressed against Berkay’s lips, spreading them. A mouth covered his. The kiss was wet, aggressive, tongues tangling. Berkay could taste tobacco, whiskey, and the unique saliva of… he focused. It was clean, almost sweet. Serdem. He’d kissed Serdem once before, drunkenly, years ago. He broke the kiss. “Serdem.”
The big man sighed, a sound of pure contentment.
“You’re getting good,” İsmail purred. “Now for the championship round.”
Berkay was pushed onto his back on the rug. His jeans and boxers were yanked down. The cool air on his exposed cock was a shock. Then a heavy, warm weight settled across his hips. A cock, already slick with precum, slapped against his own. It was thick, uncut. It rocked against him, a hot, vulgar friction.
“Whose dick is rubbing against your dick, Berkay?” Umut whispered in his ear. “Guess.”
Berkay thrust upward, desperate for more contact. The scent was rich, animal, a mix of soap and intimate musk. “İsmail,” he panted.
The thrusting stopped. “Wrong.” It was Umut. He laughed. “You really can’t tell us apart when it matters, can you?”
Berkay’s world spun. Hands rolled him over onto his stomach. His face was pushed into the mattress. Then, a new heat pressed against his lips. A sac, heavy and full, brushed his nose. The smell was profound, earthy, hormonal. He opened his mouth, taking one testicle gently, rolling it with his tongue. The skin was tight, wrinkled, salty.
“Guess the balls, slut,” İsmail crowed.
Berkay licked and suckled, trying to find a clue. The hair at the base was trimmed short. “Umut?” he tried.
A sharper slap on his ass. “No. Serdem. You’ve got my best friend’s balls in your mouth. Suck them like you mean it.”
Berkay did, moaning, his own hips grinding into the rug. The degradation was now the entire point, the fuel. He was delirious with it.
He was pulled up again, guided forward on his knees. A fist tangled in his hair. The head of a cock, slick and leaking, bumped against his lips. He took it in without prompting, sucking hard. It filled his mouth, his throat. He gagged, tears wetting the blindfold.
“Whose cock are you choking on?” Serdem asked, his voice strained.
Berkay worked it, using his tongue on the frenulum. The taste was familiar, clean. He pulled off, gasping. “İsmail. It’s İsmail.”
The cock slapped his cheek. “Finally. Now make me come.”
Berkay obeyed, bobbing his head frantically, his hand working the base. İsmail’s curses were a filthy, beautiful soundtrack. “Yeah, suck it you eager faggot, swallow every drop, you love this dick, don’t you?” Berkay nodded, moaning around the shaft, and the vibration made İsmail shout, his release flooding Berkay’s throat in hot, bitter pulses. Berkay swallowed dutifully, greedily.
Before he could recover, he was moved. A different cock, this one with a prominent curve, pressed at his lips. “My turn,” Umut said. “No guessing. Just work.”
Berkay serviced him, his jaw aching, his own need a frantic, ignored throb. Umut fucked his face with measured, deep thrusts, holding his head still. “Look at you,” Umut panted. “Our friend. Our personal little cocksucker. You were born for this.”
When Umut came, he pulled out at the last second, painting Berkay’s face and blindfold with thick, white stripes. Berkay licked at what touched his lips.
Lastly, Serdem. He laid back on the bed and guided Berkay between his legs. “Just… be gentle,” Serdem murmured, and the vulnerability in his voice made Berkay’s heart clench. He took Serdem’s thick length into his mouth, worshipping it with slow, tender sucks until Serdem shook, spilling into his mouth with a quiet, grateful sigh.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing. Then, Umut pulled the blindfold off. The room was blurry. The three of them looked down at him, spent, glistening, smiling. Not the cruel smiles of clients. The fucked-out, blissful smiles of friends who had shared something profoundly taboo.
İsmail reached down and tugged on Berkay’s hard, neglected cock. “Fuck, you’re dripping. You gonna come just from being our little guessing game?”
Berkay nodded, beyond words.
“Then come,” Umut said, simply.
İsmail’s fist pumped him, fast and rough. Serdem leaned over and kissed Berkay, deep and messy. Umut watched, his hand stroking Berkay’s hair. It was too much—the touch, the taste, the approval. Berkay’s orgasm ripped through him, white-hot and convulsing, streaking up his own stomach and chest.
He collapsed between them, boneless.
They all lay there in a tangled, sweaty heap on the floor and the edge of the bed. The old radio hissed static. Rain tapped the window.
“Next time,” İsmail said into the silence, his voice lazy, satiated. “Next time, we use the bed. And maybe… we see how many guesses it takes him to tell whose ass he’s licking.”
Umut laughed. Serdem groaned, but it was a sound of agreement.
Berkay, his face sticky, his body humming, just smiled. The money on the nightstand was forgotten. This was what came next. This was what happened between friends.
This was what happened between friends. The comfort of that silence lingered for days, a whispered promise that coiled in Berkay’s gut every time his phone buzzed. When they gathered again in İsmail’s apartment, the unspoken rules had shifted; the money was a ghost, and the debt was now purely visceral. The clean lines of the modern space felt like a sterile arena.
Umut cracked his knuckles, his eyes dark and focused. “No games tonight,” he stated, his voice leaving no room for debate. “We’re not guessing. We’re taking.” He tossed a full bottle of lube onto the couch beside Berkay. “You’re getting stretched open properly tonight. Both ends.”
Serdem rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze softening as he watched Berkay’s nervous swallow. “We’ll go slow at first,” he offered, but the eager bulge in his sweatpants betrayed him.
“Slow, then not slow,” İsmail corrected with a sharp grin, already pulling his shirt off. “We know what he can handle now. Remember the warehouse? He licked my fucking feet. This is just the next logical step.” His casual tone belied the intense hunger in his movements as he pushed Berkay down onto the wide, grey sofa.
Berkay’s back hit the cool leather with a soft thud. His jeans were yanked off before he could protest, the air chilling his skin. Umut knelt by his head, cradling it roughly. “Open up,” he commanded, and Berkay parted his lips instinctively. Umut’s cock, already slick with precum, slid in without ceremony, hitting the back of his throat in one deep push. Berkay gagged, his eyes watering immediately.
At the same time, Serdem’s large, lubed fingers pressed against his asshole, circling the tight ring of muscle. “Breathe out,” Serdem murmured, and as Berkay exhaled around Umut’s girth, a thick finger sank inside. The dual invasion was overwhelming—a brutal fullness in his mouth and a burning stretch from behind. He whimpered, the sound vibrating around Umut’s shaft.
“There it is,” İsmail said approvingly, watching from the foot of the sofa. He pumped his own cock slowly. “Look at him. Already falling apart. Add another finger, Serdem.”
Serdem complied, working a second digit in alongside the first, scissoring gently. The stretch burned, a sharp, bright pain that made Berkay’s legs tremble. Umut began to fuck his throat in earnest, setting a relentless, pounding rhythm that stole Berkay’s air. Each forward thrust made Berkay’s nose press into Umut’s hairy pelvis, the musky scent of his skin flooding Berkay’s senses. He choked, drool slicking his chin.
“He’s crying already,” İsmail noted, sounding almost bored. “Good. Means he’s feeling it.” He moved closer, his hand replacing Serdem’s fingers. The cold lube dripped onto Berkay’s perineum. “Think he’s loose enough for you?” İsmail asked Serdem, his tone conversational.
“Should be,” Serdem rumbled, his own cock now hard and jutting. “Want me to go first?”
“Nah, I’ll open him up proper,” İsmail said. He positioned himself, the broad head of his erection pressing against Berkay’s entrance. “Ready, slut?” Without waiting, he pushed. The initial penetration was a tearing, brutal stretch that forced a guttural scream from Berkay, muffled by Umut’s relentless thrusting.
Berkay’s world narrowed to searing, conflicting sensations—the relentless battering of his throat, the brutal, slow invasion of his ass. İsmail sank in to the hilt, his balls slapping against Berkay’s skin. “Fuck, he’s tight,” İsmail groaned, pausing to let Berkay adjust. “Like a virgin, even after all that fingering.”
Umut pulled out briefly, letting Berkay drag in a sobbing breath. “You’re doing great,” Umut said, his voice oddly tender before he shoved back in, deeper this time. Berkay’s throat convulsed, his gag reflex firing uselessly. Tears streamed down his temples into his hairline.
“Okay, move, I want a turn,” Serdem said, tapping İsmail’s hip. They swapped places with a practicality that was chilling. Serdem’s cock, thicker than İsmail’s, pressed in, and Berkay shrieked, the sound strangled by Umut’s pelvis. The stretch was immense, a burning fullness that felt like it would split him open. Serdem bottomed out with a low moan.
Now both holes were utterly filled, being fucked in disjointed rhythms. Umut set a fast, punishing pace in his mouth, each thrust making Berkay’s eyes roll back. Serdem fucked his ass with deep, ponderous strokes that jolted his entire body forward. The sofa creaked under the violence of their movements.
“Check out this view,” İsmail said, lighting a cigarette from the sidelines. He blew smoke toward the ceiling. “He’s taking two cocks like a professional. And he’s still hard. Look at his little dick leaking all over his stomach.” He reached down to stroke Berkay’s erection, which twitched pathetically.
Berkay bawled, sobs wrenching from his chest between choking gasps. The pain was metamorphosing, sharp tendrils of unwanted pleasure sparking from his prostate with every deep thrust from Serdem. His body was betraying him, responding to the violation.
“He’s hitting that sweet spot now,” Serdem panted, his massive hands gripping Berkay’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Feel him clenching? He likes it.”
Umut grunted, his rhythm faltering. “I’m close. Gonna come down his fucking throat.” He drove in hard, held there, and Berkay felt the hot, pulsating release flooding his esophagus. He had no choice but to swallow repeatedly, the bitter taste making him retch around the still-throbbing cock.
After Umut pulled out, Berkay coughed violently, strings of spit and cum hanging from his lips. “My turn up there,” İsmail declared, nudging Umut aside. He fed his cock into Berkay’s sore, sloppy mouth. “Suck it clean, then get it ready for your ass again.” The taste was a mix of skin, sweat, and Umut’s residual salt.
Serdem never stopped moving, his thrusts growing faster, more urgent. “I’m gonna come inside him,” he announced, his voice strained. “That okay?”
“Fill him up,” Umut said, wiping his brow. He sounded utterly relaxed, as if discussing the weather. “He can take it.”
Serdem slammed home one final time, his body shuddering as he emptied himself deep into Berkay’s ass. The intense, flooding heat triggered Berkay’s own orgasm; his cock jerked, spilling untouched across his stomach in weak, helpless spurts.
İsmail fucked his mouth through it all, chasing his own finish. When he came, he pulled out and painted Berkay’s face, white streaks mingling with tears and sweat. “Perfect,” he sighed, collapsing into an armchair.
For a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing and the distant hum of city traffic. They disentangled slowly. Berkay felt utterly hollowed out, used, a vessel brimming with their releases. He shivered, cold air biting at his wet skin.
Serdem was the first to speak, handing Berkay a towel. “I love the… the emptiness afterwards,” he said quietly. “All the constant thoughts, the worry—it’s just gone. Silence in my head for a while.”
İsmail stubbed out his cigarette. “For me, it’s the lack of pretense. No dating apps, no pathetic small talk. Just pure, filthy need. We see each other’s worst, most animal parts, and it’s fine.” He shrugged. “It’s freedom.”
Umut leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I love the control,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on Berkay. “But not over him. Over myself. For a few hours, I’m not pretending to be a civilized man. I’m just this… thing that wants. And you all want it too.” He looked around at the others. “We’re the same in this.”
All eyes turned to Berkay, who was trembling, trying to clean himself with shaky hands. “What do you love, Berkay?” Umut asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Berkay’s throat was raw, his voice a scratchy whisper. “I love…” He swallowed, tasting them all. “I love that it’s real. This… degradation. It’s the truest thing I’ve ever felt. I’m not hiding here.” He looked at each of them, his eyes gleaming with exhausted honesty. “You own me, and I don’t have to pretend I’m anything else.”
The acknowledgment hung in the air, a new contract written in sweat and semen. Outside, the city buzzed, oblivious. Inside, they basked in the brutal, unvarnished truth of what they’d become.
Inside, they basked in the brutal, unvarnished truth of what they’d become.
A week later, Berkay stood outside the familiar door, his hand hovering. He’d traced and retraced the memory of that dark, wet warmth in his mouth, the sour musk of skin, the crushing weight of their ownership. The ten thousand lira was gone, spent on rent and a single, pointless shopping spree that felt like dust in his mouth. The real currency now was the shameful craving twisting his gut. He loved being used. He loved the dominion they held over his senses. He knocked.
The door swung open. All three were there, their smiles lazy and knowing, crooked grins of shared conspiracy. “Took you long enough,” İsmail said, stepping aside. The scent of strong coffee and cigarettes wafted out, a deceptively normal aroma.
“We warned you,” Umut reminded him from the couch, not getting up. His gaze was a physical weight. “Wild means no rules. No safewords. You show up, you agree to whatever happens.”
“I know,” Berkay said, his voice barely a whisper. He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him like a trap springing.
They started slowly, a languid, predatory circling. Serdem pulled him into a rough kiss, tasting of tea, while İsmail’s hands tugged his shirt off. Umut watched, sipping his drink, a general surveying his troops. İsmail pushed Berkay to his knees and fed him his cock, already half-hard. Berkay took it, the familiar stretch of his jaw an immediate comfort, a homecoming. He sucked with a focused dedication, his tongue working the vein underneath, and İsmail groaned, tangling his fingers in Berkay’s hair.
“Good boy,” İsmail panted. “You missed this, didn’t you? Missed being our little cocksleeve.”
Then things turned nasty, fast. Umut stood, unbuckling his belt. “Enough warm-up. Get on the bed. All fours.” His tone brooked no argument. Berkay scrambled onto the mattress, his heart hammering against his ribs. Cold lube squirted onto his ass, a shocking drizzle. A thumb, not gentle, pushed inside him, and he cried out. “You’re tight again,” Umut observed, working the digit cruelly. “Serdem, open him up proper.”
Serdem’s thick, lubed fingers replaced Umut’s, two then three, scissoring him wide. The burn was sharp, glorious. Berkay buried his face in the duvet, muffling his sobs. İsmail moved to the head of the bed, lying down. “Here,” he commanded, guiding Berkay to straddle him. “Take it all the way down, you greedy fuck.”
Berkay positioned himself over İsmail’s rigid cock, lowering himself slowly. The slow, splitting penetration was agonizing and exquisite. He gasped, sheathing İsmail completely, feeling him throbbing inside. Before he could adjust, Umut was behind him, his own cock pressing against Berkay’s other entrance. “Breathe out,” Umut grunted, and pushed.
The scream that tore from Berkay’s throat was pure, shattered glass. He was impaled, stretched beyond thought, filled to bursting. Umut’s arms wrapped around his chest, locking his own arms behind his back in a merciless hold. “Now,” Umut growled into his ear, and began to thrust. İsmail bucked upward from beneath, their rhythms opposed, brutalizing Berkay from both ends. The world dissolved into a white-hot fire of conflicting sensations.
Serdem loomed over them, his massive cock slicked and ready. He grabbed Berkay by the hair, yanking his head back. “Open,” he ordered, and shoved himself into Berkay’s already abused mouth. Berkay gagged violently, his throat convulsing. Serdem pushed deeper, using all his strength, until his pubic bone mashed against Berkay’s nose. Air became a distant memory. Tears streamed from Berkay’s bulging eyes, his face a mask of agony and transcendent pleasure. His neck veins stood out like ropes as he fought not to vomit around the relentless thrusting.
They fucked him in a savage, synchronized cadence, a machine of pure animal need. Umut’s grip on his arms was vice-like, İsmail’s hands squeezed his ass cheeks brutally apart, and Serdem fucked his throat with piston-like force. Berkay could not moan, could not breathe, could only exist as a nexus of their violent release. The pressure coiled, unbearable, and then it snapped. Umut roared, flooding his ass with hot pulses. İsmail screamed, his orgasm jetting deep inside. Serdem gave three final, brutal shoves and came down Berkay’s throat in thick, choking spurts.
They collapsed as one entity, spent and shaking. Berkay wheezed, drawing in ragged, sobbing breaths, utterly destroyed and completely theirs.