There was one with all of our faces pressed together, smiling. We told Prasang to smile as best he could, which wasn’t very much before a trickle of cum and saliva started to stream down his chin. We mopped it up with a new tissue and plugged that one in as well.
We got some good selfies of the three of us together kneeling down around Prasang’s spent cock. We took turns posing with the head in our mouths.
We then went around beneath him and got photos with his exquisitely abused ass, squeezing his red buns hard until he was again dancing and clenching with pain.
This must have been particularly hard on his hole, which was still plugged to capacity with the plantain. Despite his silence, he was surely more than ready to have it out of him. Now that he had blown his load a third time, it must have been getting harder to bear with every passing minute. But the three of us kept flashing pictures. We just loved the way the stem stuck out like a puppy dog tail.
“Would you like us to take the banana out, Prasang?” I asked.
His eyes bulged. “RRUM-UFF!” He cried.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“RRRMF!” He pleaded and whimpered like a puppy, wiggling his buns back and forth to convey how badly he wanted it out.
“Oh, that is a shame,” said Gary, “It looks so very nice up there.”
But we knew it was time to take pity on our poor devoted slave boy. He had, after all, delivered on the near impossible task we had put on him (or at least that extraordinary body of his had).
I gripped the cute puppy tail and prepared for the surgical removal of this beast.
“All right, Prasang, bite down hard on those cum rags. You might want to hold your breath for this one. Don’t clench your buns together if you can help it. Three…two…one!”
The head of the plantain started to crown.
“Uh…UUUUHH!” Cried Prasang, legs trembling as he struggled to keep still.
A suction sound rose up, followed by a big, wet pop. The plantain shot out of him into my hand. “RR-UM-OOF,” Prasang said through his plugged mouth. He flexed his cheeks like mad as his poor hole spasmed uncontrollably. Free again, at last.
The three of us were amazed all over again by the sheer size of what he had taken up his ass.
“Would you look at that thing? It must’ve been all the way up to his guts,” Gary marveled.
“He’s even more of a champion than I realized after that unbelievable cum shower,” said Martin.
We passed the banana around, touching it to our lips and faces, wanting to feel the heat of Prasang’s hole on it.
I pulled the boy’s buns wide and examined the damage with the light of my phone.
It was ground zero, all right. Where his pink rosebud had been was now a gaping mouth, red and raw.
I kept it stretched wide as Martin and Gary got their faces into it. They sniffed, licked, and suckled to their heart’s content. Occasionally stopping to give each other a kiss.
Then they did the same for me. They pulled his buns apart wide as I buried my face in that beautifully stretched hole. I licked and sucked and savored its burning heat as Prasang blubbered and whined above me.
We snapped photos of Prasang’s yawning hole and showed them to him, again pumping his hand and clapping him on the back for a job well done.
At last, Gary and I shifted Prasang carefully onto Martin’s beach chair to allow him a rest. He hissed tiredly to have his very sore butt touch a surface, but it meant he could finally relax.
The three masters went off a ways and stood by a palm tree, leaving Prasang to swoon and suck his own semen in peace.
To be concluded…