My mind flashes back to my first time but I shake it loose, finding my place in the narrative again, in the here and now. “No. I hurt her with my dick.”
“Show me.”
Her hand moves, squirming into her pocket. She pulls out a condom, having to use all her strength to shift me aside long enough to tear it open, returning to her previous position and unrolling it into place along my hard length.
And that sets off another pulse of desire. Because she must have put it in there knowing she was coming out to wake me. She must have lain in bed, planning this, then come prepared.
I force myself to pull my hand away, trying to move off her but now Rosa’s arms are around me. She can’t keep me in position if I fight, her tiny frame is no match for my bulk, my size, my strength, but I let her fix me in place, pretending for a minute.
The game needs to end soon or the ravenous beast inside me will wake too fully to be put back to bed, but a few seconds, a few minutes… Please, let that be okay because I don’t want to stop.
“Are you okay to continue?” she asks, and I jerk, ready to roll off, stand up, but Rosa clutches me tighter. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay. If you don’t want to try, that’s fine, just let me know.”
Her voice is soft but confident, like she can handle any eventuality. I know she can’t, that I haven’t explained myself properly, she’s stepping into danger, and I shouldn’t let her, but I don’t tell her that. Even though she’s given me the opportunity, I’m scared to tell her that and have it stop.
Instead, I whisper, “Why are you doing this?”
Her arms move higher, wrapping around my shoulders, one leg curling over mine. She says, “Because I’ve got a thing for massive blond men with massive blond dicks,” then chuckles, the vibrations creating an additional source of warmth inside my head.
“I’ll hurt you.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, I’ll really—” My voice chokes to a halt as she slides her sweatpants down. I have to lift my weight for her to do it and I do, even though there’s a dull beat in the back of my brain telling me not to, warning me to stop. “I’ll really hurt you and I don’t want to. I like you.”
“I like you, too.”
She takes me in her hand again, guiding me between her legs, the head of my cock nudging against her, nudging inside like a warmth seeking missile. My balls ache at the nearness, my ears ringing with a low tone, my mouth full of cotton wool.
I push forward or she tilts her hips, orsomethinghappens and I’m slowly sliding into her, the sensation so different from my hand that I gasp, my fingers clenching as I drive them back into her hair, into a safe spot far away from her fragile throat.
A hand lands on my shoulder, pressing lightly, and I stop. I stop even though every nerve in my body wants to continue plunging forward, thrusting deeper.
I stop because she’s right and there’s a wealth of difference between fifteen and eighteen. An enormous gap and it’s enough for now but my control is steadily slipping. It’s enough for now but give me a moment, give me a few thrusts until I’m fully encased inside her, and it won’t be.
Her breathing is funny now, focused. I try to withdraw and her leg slides farther upward, resting against my arse, an encouragement to stop, to rest, to stay exactly where I am.
“Do you want to know what it feels like? You inside me?”
One arm stays around my shoulder, the other makes its way to my cheek, cupping the side of my face while her thumb strokes along the underside of my chin.
“You’re stretching me out, so all the nerve endings crammed in there are excited and keep flooding me with messages.” Her voice is calm and dreamy, like she’s on the verge of falling asleep. “It’s almost painful, and that means there are more signals than usual. It makes time slow down.”
Her thumb traces a lazy spiral against my skin. “You stopped me.”
“I paused you. It takes a little while longer to get used to the movement.”
“You mean, I’m causing you pain.”
“No but if I didn’t rest for a second, you might do.”
“I should stop.”
“If you want to.” Her hold on me doesn’t lessen. Her thumb continues to make its gentle strokes. “But don’t stop because you’re second guessing everything.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh against the curve of her neck. “I haven’t had the time to first guess things.”
“You feel good,” she says. “I think I forgot to mention that.”
