My mind very unhelpfully decides to replay a montage of the one time I had sex with Mackenzie. The sights, the sounds, the sensations, until my cock is so hard, it hurts. Trying to stifle my moan is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Do you want a hand with that?” whispers Mackenzie seductively.
An incoherent gurgle comes out of my throat but I just about manage not to beg. Either for him to touch me or for him to stop tormenting me. I am surprised I’m not pleading for both things at once.
I don’t know how he knows I’m hard. But it seems fitting that he does. It makes sense that he knows my body. It feels right. An acknowledgment of the connection between us.
He sighs, “Kit, it wouldn’t be gratitude. All right? I like you and I’m feeling horny.”
“Okay!” I agree hurriedly.
His words are the final straw that breaks my resolve. They crush my will power into dust. I no longer care if this is right or wrong. I want him, I need him. I’m going to have him.
Suddenly he is right next to me, where he belongs. I turn my entire body towards him, like a flower seeking the sun. I crave him with an intensity that overwhelms me. He is my everything.
He cups my cock through the fabric of my boxer briefs and I see stars. A few strokes of ecstasy and then he is freeing my cock from its cloth prison. I groan at the sensation of his hand on me. Skin to skin is so much better. His hand slides up to my weeping cockhead to collect my pre-cum, then he uses it as lube, sliding it over my hard, throbbing length.
His touch is divine. I wonder if he is especially skilled, or if all men can just handle cocks better than women. Having your own one to practice with has to be an advantage.
I’m so close already and I’m not even embarrassed. But then Mackenzie releases me. It seems he has other ideas. My groan echoes around the room as he disappears under the duvet, wriggling his way down the bed. He pushes me over onto my back and I flop bonelessly like a fish. My cock is the only part of me that is stiff.
He is between my spread legs now. His hands on my thighs, spreading me wide and up. I’m expecting him to suck my cock, so when his hot, wet tongue laps at my hole I squeal. Fuck, that feels amazing. What the fuck have I been doing with my life that I’m only just discovering how sensitive I am there? All those wasted years.
His tongue works me mercilessly. My hips try to buck, but he holds me down with surprising strength. Pleasure is shooting through my body in bright sparks, escaping out of my mouth in hungry moans. I grab a pillow and shove it over my face, biting it deeply.
His tongue eases inside me, and I cry out into the pillow. He stops and I whimper in dismay. I don’t want this to ever end.
“What’s with the pillow?” he chuckles.
I lift it away from my face. “My mother is down the hall!” I gasp.
He laughs, and my stomach flips over at the happy sound. He deserves to be like this always. I want to devote my life to keeping him safe, so he can be.
“I’ve got a better idea on what to gag your mouth with,” he says. “Roll over onto your side.”
I obey him immediately. He moves us around in the dark and it takes me a moment to realize what is happening. Then his cock is right in front of my face and his breath is on mine. A sixty-nine. I’ve never done this either. My sex life has been so fucking vanilla.
A flash of nerves trembles through me before I quash it. How hard can sucking cock be? I can just start by doing what drives me wild when I’m getting blown, and then adjust as I figure out what he likes. Warm wetness and suction around a cock is hard to get terribly wrong.
Any lingering doubts about my sexuality are quashed. I feel no repulsion, no disgust. My only concern is about doing a good job. I want to taste him, I want him in my mouth. I hunger to feel him on my tongue. I want his cock.
My tongue snakes out of its own accord, and I start with a long, exploratory lick. He does the same to me, and I keen from the sensation. This is going to be good, very, very good.
Wasting no more time, I take all of him in my mouth. I need that silencing effect he promised. He moans and thrusts into me a little. Giving him pleasure fills me with joy. I groan around his cock as my own is engulfed by the hot wet heat of his mouth. The physical sensations are pure bliss, but the knowledge that it is Mackenzie, is what is driving me to ecstasy. I want to weep in reverence, bow to the universe in gratitude for bringing him into my life and now into my bed.
As waves upon waves of sheer delight wash through my entire body, it becomes impossible to concentrate on working his cock. My eyes are rolling back, my balls are drawing up. The best I can do in return is to suck desperately. Treating his cock like a straw in thick milkshake. I’m going to have to apologize and work on my shitty technique.
He bucks frantically, and a burst of salty goodness pours down my throat. Pride swells my chest. Maybe my technique isn’t so bad after all. Suddenly I’m coming too. My orgasm smashing into and through me with the force of a meteorite. It rearranges every molecule in my body. Rolling on and on far longer than I ever thought was possible. When eventually it recedes and I can see and hear again, I’m panting like a steam train and trembling all over.
Mackenzie has flipped himself over to face me once more. In the dim light I can just make out that he is staring at me, just out of reach, as if he believes his permission to touch me has been revoked. He is not regretful, somehow I can feel that in my heart. He is uncertain, unconfident. Worried about my reaction. Worried that I’ve gotten what I want from him and have no further use for him.
It breaks my heart.
I reach out for him and pull him close to me. Enveloping him in my embrace until every part of us is touching. I don’t have the words for all I want to say to him. All the ways I want to love him and cherish him. I can only pray that my body language conveys some of it.
He melts into my touch and clings onto me. I hold him even tighter. He might not realize it yet, but I’m never, ever going to let go. I am his forever.
And he is mine.
