“Uh-huh,” I answer, breathless, as he reveals his strong chest.
I was right about his chest hair. It’s gloriously thick, and it makes him seem older. Safer.
His eyes drift to my zipper, where my dick is valiantly attempting to escape its confines. Hrn. I suppose I have to get undressed as well. It’s not the most efficient thing because I keep getting sidetracked by the flat plane of his furry belly, the strong definition of his thighs, and the generous outline in his white briefs.
I assume we’ll get down to it once we’ve fully bared ourselves to each other. Junior patiently takes me in, from the top of my head, over every contour of my face down my pale chest, past my practically hairless torso.
While I’m glad for the definition I get from swimming at the Y, I am deeply aware of the hulking strength of the man before me. He leans in, kissing me gently as he runs the back of his fingers up and down my chest.
“You are so beautiful. You know that?”
I brush my fingers across my old acne scars, shaking my head.
“No, don’t do that. Don’t hate on any part of you. You’re perfect.”
My automatic response is to deny, but the protest dies on my lips when I track the sincerity in his eyes.
He means it.
I’ve gotten used to feeling like a freak—unacceptable to my father, too different from the rest of the people who live here. But the morning light from my bedroom window highlights the soft look in his eyes, and I see how much he means it. He thinks I’m beautiful.
I’ll probably do something really stupid like fall in love with him, but I’m beginning to think that the fall is the best part.
His gaze locks on mine as he gently lowers himself onto me. I let out a pleasured moan as I take his body weight. His muscles are dense and heavy as they push me into the bed.
“You okay? I’m not squashing you too much?”
I shake my head. “I love the way you feel on top of me.”
He responds by kissing me, this time gentle and deep, his tongue probing, sensual.
“What would you like to do?” he asks, trailing kisses along my cheekbone.
I start to breathe a little heavily.
“Answer me,” he says, the soft command unmistakable in his deep timbre. I feel like a shaken can of Sprite, with bubbles and tingles moving through my chest and down my arms.
“Everything.”
His pleased smile makes me think I’ve given him the right answer. He draws his hand up and wraps it around my neck.
“Everything? Can I play with your orgasm a little like I did yesterday? Make you wait?”
My eyes flutter and roll back as he takes over, setting my body on fire. “Please. And put your hand on my neck again.”
He hesitates. “I don’t want to choke you, okay? I can play with compression, but I don’t like preventing you from breathing.”
“Yes,” I hiss, desperate.
“Good boy,” he whispers, his voice an octave lower.
I shiver and begin kissing him, needing him so badly.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
I comply, and he returns my kisses, drowning me in them as he rocks up and down, his cock, rigid and dripping, sliding against mine. I pant, imagining what it would feel like to have that monster invade my body.
“I need you inside me,” I say the next time I come up for air.
