I’m careful to not put my weight on his knee, but he pulls down on my hips, biting his pretty bottom lip as I lightly grind against him. “This okay?”
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tighter against him. “Fuck yes.”
I gasp when I feel his hardness against mine. That is not yesterday’s hard-on.
“You like that, baby?” he asks with a sneaky smile on his face.
“Jesus. I didn’t realize…” I lose vocabulary when he thrusts up against me.
“Didn’t realize what, blondie?” His voice is a breathy growl in my ear, sending goosepimples down my arm as he thrusts harder. “That my cock finally woke up?”
Wood-wise, I’m pretty lucky in the length-girth department, and based on these past two weeks, I had assumed he wasn’t as endowed. Gulp. Yeah…not so much. He wasn’t lying when he said he was only half-hard. What he had neglected to mention was that he was also only half-grown.
“Uh…”Fuck.
He thrusts up against me and a dark, wet stain of precum blooms in the front of my thin PJs.
“Odd?” he asks, pitching his voice up in faux-innocence as his full, pinkish-brown lips turn up into a decidedly evil smile.
“You’re…” I say, gesturing at his junk, mouth open.
His gaze burns a path up and down my body. “I’m…?”
I get stuck on his warm brown eyes, but he shakes me out of my reverie with another hard upward thrust. I’m breathless as the words tumble out of my mouth. “Fuckingenormous.”
“Are you trying to compliment yourself? Because from what I can see…we’re the exact same size.”
"You know what I mean,” I say, halfway between surprised and confused. “Based on everything I’ve seen, I assumed you’d have something more…average.”
“I don’t think anyone’s calling either of us average.”
He gifts me with his full, Cheshire-with-a-canary smile, and…are those?Is he serious right now?
“Are those fucking dimples?” I ask, my jaw somewhere in China. “How did I miss dimples?”
“You didn’t miss them, baby. I just had them in hiding.”
I pull my loose waistband down, tucking it under my nuts as DeShaun does the same to his. The logistics have me stumped.
“Baby, I’m gonna need a lot of prep to work up to all of…that.”
He laughs, the dimples on full display. “I’m too worked up anyway.”
“Okay, but I don’t have enough spit to properly…all of that.”
“I got you covered,” he says, reaching under one of the pillows to produce a small bottle of high-quality lube. Grinning like the con man he is, he opens the lid as he gathers both dicks in hand, pouring out a thin stream of the chilly liquid. Slow-jacking us, he spreads the slick up and down our cocks.
Jesus H. Christ.
“Wait, I want you. It’ll feel better if it’s you touching me,” he says, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
I don’t need a second invitation and happily take over the hand job. Two days ago, I jacked us one-handed. We’ve definitely, definitely worked up to needing two hands, and he feels amazing, all slicked-up under my palms. The groan that falls from his lips pushes me onward.
“Harder. More,” he gasps, thrusting into my grip.
I do as he says, writhing on his lap, tightening my hands around us as I lean in for a kiss. The warm friction of his cock against mine, specifically the way the irregular shape of his head catches against my glans, is making my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Not gonna last,” I pant, bringing my other hand up to intensify the grip.
