I shake my head, searching the counter for anything we could use as lube.
He’s way ahead of me, grabbing an unmarked bottle of what I’m guessing is cooking oil. The next thing I feel is the cool drizzle of it on my ass cheeks, and then his extra hot cock, sliding around in it.
His fingers touch my rim, and I roll up onto my toes, oversensitive. “Not ready for me?” he asks with a light laugh.
“It’s been a few days…”
“I’ll go slow.”
He kisses my shoulder, and I feel his soft, slick crown against my hole. He presses forward, and I blow out a breath, trying to relax. I feel the soft stretch of the pressure he’s applying. “Mmm…I like that.”
He does it again and again. His mouth on my shoulder gets warmer, wetter, and closer to my neck. God, I love it. My stiff elbows soften, and his crown pushes through my rim. I groan, and he sucks in a mouthful of skin. I’m expecting to get fucked now, but he holds still a moment and pulls out again.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
And then he’s in again. Just the tip. I lick my lips, trying to get a hold of myself. He does this a few more times while I’m groaning and adjusting until there’s no more friction, and I’m allstretched out for him. Another drizzle of oil hits my ass, and then he steps into me.
His thighs pull flush with mine, and his thick cock fills my ass. I reach back and grip him by the hamstring.
“Good?” he asks.
I get what he’s asking. I’ve asked the same thing, expecting whoever’s bottoming for me to know what they need to do to make it a pleasurable experience, but I’ve never had to figure it out on my own.
“It’s…uh…You feel very long,” I admit with burning cheeks and a sweaty upper lip.
With one of his hands, he presses my breastbone, lifting me slightly so I’m not quite so bent over the counter. Everything changes. He slides in at least an inch deeper, and holy fuck, it feels a thousand times better. Instinctively, I adjust a few more degrees upward, and he gives me an experimental stroke, sliding right over my prostate and stretching me around his base. “There,” I choke out.
“I feel it, too.” His voice is low and raspy as his cock moves slowly back and forth, lighting up every nerve ending in my ass. Who knew there were so many?
Deacon apparently.
Using his height, he meets my mouth with a long, deep kiss as he continues to fuck me. He keeps his pace slow and languid, really working the angle for everything it’s worth. My hand finally releases its grip on the counter and drifts down to my own rock solid cock to stroke it. I don’t go any faster than he is, melting into the slow rhythm and letting my body sing with pleasure. It’s an edge I’m not sure I want to tip over. It’s so intense—a buzzing in my blood and bones. “Is this tantric?” I ask stupidly.
“It’s been five minutes. Maybe.”
“How long can you last?”
“Wanna find out?”
I nod. He kisses me again. And we keep going.
Something like an entire minute later, he’s devouring my mouth, and I’m not doing much better, sucking at his tongue and tearing at his lips. His hands remain locked on my hips, but his hips are snapping, our balls slapping.
My hand is jerking my dick like it’s in a race.
“I love fucking this ass,” he says, and that’s it for me.
Cum flies, leaving my body at velocity. The soft splat on my cabinetry hits between Deacon’s slaps to my ass, and I swear it just makes me come more and harder.
“I’m gonna fill you up, Daddy,” he warns. “You ready?”
Jesus, again with the daddy thing, but why is it hot? “Do it,” I say. “Come in me.”I’mstill coming when he makes good on his promise. He freezes at the top of a stroke, my hole fully stretched, and the jolt of his orgasm inside me along with the accompanying broken moan have me covering his mouth with mine like I can swallow his pleasure and double my own. He crumbles as I kiss him through his release, his legs stumbling and his arms braced on the counter so he doesn’t crush me to it. His dick slips out at some point, and I turn toward him so I can get a better handle on the kiss. He sinks in, his hands trembling with aftershocks as they drive through my hair.
I don’t think we made it ten minutes, but that only means we’ll have to keep trying.
And try we do. All weekend.
I’ve had relationships end due to arguments over sex. Namely—I wasn’t getting enough of it and/or I was asking for too much. It wasn’t until I tried doing relationships that I realized sex—or the lack thereof—could be an issue.
