He gave me a smirk as he grasped himself and pressed his slick, leaking cockhead against my hole. Then he was pushing in and stretching me wide. The burn wasn’t much, but he was larger than three of my fingers, and the pure rapture on his face made me feel both grateful and frustrated as he slowed down and pushed into me like I was an egg that might crack.
“Daddy. It feels so good. Oh holy fuck,” he moaned and continued his torturous journey, creeping that sweet stick of meat into my body.
“Daddy said to fuck,” I hissed and grasped his hips, pulling him hard against me. He let out a cry and moved with me as I rocked him back and forth at the speed I wanted, forcefully moving his hips until I was sure he would probably have bruises in the shape of my fingers later.
He caught the rhythm on his own and leaned down to lift my thighs farther onto his arms. He wasn’t as tall as me; however, he was enthusiastic, and stronger than I’d given him credit for as he shifted my body around to exactly wherehewanted it. I ended up with my calves draped over his shoulders, shocked he’d managed to fold my body so much without it hurting at all.
How long had it been since I wanted to be this vulnerable to anyone?
And then I gave in and fully relaxed, let my baby boy have my ass. The slight easing of my muscles against him must have been the sign he needed to let loose himself because he fucked faster. I nodded in encouragement at the punishing speed. The headboard knocked against the wall, and he trembled and gasped, rutting too hard against me every now and again. The twinges of pain he probably didn’t know he was causing were beautiful gifts whenever they happened. I loved a bit of pain with my pleasure, and the tease had my cock ramrod hard and slapping against my belly with all the jostling.
“Can’t fucking get enough of your body. Daddy, you’re so hot inside. Fuck, condoms are the worst. Never again.” He threw his head back and moaned as he ground his groin against my ass.
I laughed and couldn’t help how loud it was, or that it just kept going until he did something with his hips and pegged my prostate. I growled. When I opened my eyes—when had I closed them?—it wasn’t to the shy virgin who’d been in my bed all those months ago. He had a knowing little smirk, and I had a second to wonder who was really in charge right now as he rocked back and then hammered the spot in my ass again that sent tingles along my shaft and made me feel like I was ready to come.
Nodding, I let out a groan.
“Let your boy please you, Daddy,” he whispered fervently, like a prayer. “Let your boy make you bust.” He slammed us together again, and a tidal wave of tension took over my body as I charged toward the cliff of release.
“You’re such a good boy, Max. Daddy is so proud of you. You take such good care of your Daddy.” I kept going, praising him. I was pretty sure half of what I said was nonsense, but the way his face flushed, his mouth parted, and his eyes shone with wonder, I couldn’t stop.
I talked.
And talked.
And talked until he wrapped his hand around my cock and toyed with the head on a particularly deep stroke he took into my body, and then I was yelling and arching off the bed as I sprayed cum between us.
He thumped the headboard against the wall a few more times. I was so out of it I barely felt anything except delicious joy that almost cramped my stomach; the waves of heat from getting off went on and on while he kept fucking and nailing my prostate. Then his lips were on mine. He ground his groin against my asscheeks, whining in the back of his throat.
Not long later he collapsed in a sweaty mess on my chest as he shivered. It took a while before I was able to convince myself to move and snag the blanket to drag it back over us. I forced my arms to move so I could hold him.
“Shower. Wash the blankets,” he mumbled against my chest, and I only laughed.
“Later.”
“Mm,” he said, and then he closed his eyes with a small smile.
I didn’t wake up again until noon, or at least the light in the room indicated that was about the time when I opened my eyes sometime later. There was a small rapping downstairs that caught my attention.
“Is that the door?” Max asked, voice slurred with sleep.
Scowling, I snagged my phone from the nightstand and groaned. I’d missed at least three calls from my aunt Josette.
“We have to get up. Why don’t you get a shower?” I brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed him there when he didn’t seem like his brain was quite up to functioning. He finally rolled himself off me when I gave his ass a light smack.
“Sorry, Daddy,” he murmured and cuddled with my pillow.
“Shower. We have a visitor. I have to go let her in.” I hopped out of bed, grabbed my boxers off the floor, and then went to my closet and pulled out my robe. Aunt Josette was family, so I wasn’t too worried about what she’d think of me as I belted the robe closed and ran for the front door barefoot. I was still out of it, and a small headache I was sure would go away with some coffee thumped in my skull as I opened the front door and blinked out at a shocking bright world. There was a new dusting of snow. The sun reflected from the white landscape and the dazzle pierced my eyes. I squinted down at my aunt as she held up a wicker basket half her size.
“It’s too snowy for a picnic,” I mumbled, and she laughed.
“You’ve been putting me off for too long.” She stomped her way in and thrust the basket at me. Aunt Josette was old, I thought maybe she was eighty-eight. Every time I asked about her age, she said it was none of my business. Small and round, today she wore a thick pearl-pink sweater overtop a long skirt of the same color. I had to take the basket or let it drop, so I held it to my chest as she bent her rotund little self and tugged off her footwear. She tossed the rubber winter boots to the side of the hall on an old towel I had there specifically to catch the snow. She winked and closed the door behind her as she wound her long, gray hair around her fist. Her gaze was excited as she secured a bun at the back of her head with a hair tie she’d materialized from somewhere.
“Where is he? It is a he? This reason you’re not talking to anyone.”
“He’s invisible,” I grumbled, and she laughed as she snatched her basket from me and hobbled down the hall toward the kitchen. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you walking right?” Guilt jabbed at me. I’d been living in a Max bubble, which I loved, but I’d also been ignoring Aunt Josette’s calls, hoping to put off this very moment. The sound of the shower starting upstairs made me wish I was there, too.
“You can’t hide him forever! Your father called. He’s flying in from France sometime this summer.”
