I practically jump from the bed, grabbing my cock as I do. It’s throbbing. Holy fuck. I try not to overthink this moment. Not to read so much into it.
We’re stranded in a storm, in a single bed, all alone. Orgasms will be had. It’s practically in the rule book for being stranded in storms. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he’s falling for me. This isn’t a life commitment. It’s just a fuck.
At some point, I’m going to have to face the question as to why I brought a couple condoms and travel packs of lube with me. But right now, with Peyton rubbing his cock against the bed, I don’t think I have to admit that there’s always a hope that we’d fuck.
If I’m honest, I have a lot of hope for a fuck ton of things. Is the way to a man’s heart through his orgasm? There’s a chance.
I roll the condom on as I head for the bed. I’m already lubing myself when I climb over him. His legs are spread a little, his ass rolled up, giving me a good look at his needy hole. I’ve spent so much of this past year imagining his hole.
“Dana,” he whimpers. “Fuck me.”
A thrill of lust shivers down my spine. I squirt a generous dollop of lube over his hole and push some inside him. Then I line my dick up and press inside. Slowly. Peyton moans, one long, low, constant sound that pulls at my balls.
I come down on the bed behind him and wrap myself around his body. One arm under his chest, hooking on his biceps. The other curling up around his head, gripping the top.
I push inside him deeper and deeper until I bottom out. The high-pitched gasps he makes have me panting. So good. So fucking good. So hot and tight and wet. I pull my dick out until only my cockhead remains and hold for a second. Then I drop back inside him in one fell swoop.
His body jerks. His hips come up. His ass clenches around me. “Just like that,” he pants. “Fuck. More.”
I do it again and again, and I’m rewarded with a full-body reaction. And again. Again.
I have Peyton pinned in such a way that he can’t move his arms much. I love this. I love having this big man trapped beneath me. I love how much he’s enjoying me.
When his hips roll up, I stop thrusting and let him fuck himself on my dick. He does. Without me needing to tell him to take what he wants from me, he does exactly that. His knees dig into the bed as he bucks his hips up, his ass swallowing my cock with each thrust.
His sounds don’t stop. They become louder. Needier. Until he’s practically sobs, “Fuck me, Dana. Make me come.”
I shove his hips back into the bed with mine, burying myself in deeply. With my knees, I push his legs closed, keeping them trapped that way. Making his ass squeeze my cock tighter. Making his entire body tighter.
It makes me have to push harder. Fuck him with more effort.
Peyton gets louder. Whinier. I never thought he could sound sexier than what I imagined. I was so fucking wrong. There’s nothing hotter than this moment. His hole made tighter by the position, causing me to force my way inside him. The way he keeps begging me to get him off tells me how much he likes it.
“More,” he cries.
I give him more. I fuck him just how he wants to be fucked until he comes.
His orgasm is loud. A cross between gasping, sobbing, and choking. It’s so fucking sexy. I fuck him long after he’s finished until I fill the condom.
There’s a moment when I’m suspended, floating in a haze of wondering whether I’m dreaming this. My cock, still deep in his ass, doesn’t sway my belief one way or the other.
This isn’t real. This can’t have just happened. Holy hell, I just had my dick in the most perfect man alive. How do I live tomorrow with that knowledge? How is any day going to compare to this night?
“Mmm,” Peyton hums. “Best orgasm. Keep fucking me, hot stuff.”
I press my face to the back of his neck and obediently do as he asks. This time, I’m slow. Breathless. Exhausted. I move my hips in a slow rolling motion that’s more sensation than movement.
Still, it manages to make him moan. My grip on his hair and around his arm tightens as I fuck him so damn slowly that we both fall asleep.
The condom was lost somewhere in the night. When I next wake up, it’s still dark out. The rain is still pelting down. The fire has this tiny cabin baked. The blankets have long since been shoved to the floor.
I reach around half-heartedly looking for the condom, but I don’t find it. Maybe it went over the side with the blanket. That’s entirely possible.
Peyton sighs in his sleep. I’m once more between him and the wall. He’s mostly on his stomach, with his arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried between my body and the bed.
I have a good view of his strong back. His plump ass. His thick thighs. He’s perfection.
For a long time, I simply admire him. How can one man be so damn gorgeous? So perfect? I love everything about him.
