Cumming with hammer in my hole
The room smells faintly of metal and lube. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. I’ve already worked two, then three fingers inside, but now it’s the smooth, slightly tapered handle of the claw hammer I’m feeding in—slowly at first, then with more purpose. The steel is shockingly cold against overheated skin, then warms quickly as it sinks deeper. Every centimetre feels obscene: the subtle ridges where the grip meets the shaft, the faint texture of manufacturing marks dragging along my walls. I angle it, searching, until the thicker part presses directly against that swollen spot inside. A low, broken sound escapes my throat. My free hand flies to my cock—stroking fast, messy, desperate—while the other keeps rocking the hammer in shallow, punishing thrusts. The pressure coils tighter and tighter. My toes curl. My abs flex. And then it snaps: a white-hot rush that whites out everything else. I cum in long, thick ropes across my stomach and chest, ass clamping rhythmically around the unmovable metal still buried to the grip. Each spasm milks another jolt of pleasure-pain, prolonging the orgasm until I’m shaking, gasping, completely wrecked with a fucking hammer still stretching me open.
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