Like a wave. Like a fucking wave. Back and forth.
Hypnotic. A rhythm that's only ours.
Am I exaggerating? I'm not.
Is this just some casual sex? It's fucking not.
This is an event. I've waited so fucking long for this. For this specific man with his killer thighs and impossible back dimples to be bent over and completely mine.
Call me obsessed, whatever. I fucking am. He deserves to be worshipped in the filthiest way possible. I'm not a bad guy for wanting that. I'm just honest. He's got a dream body. That's not my fault. That's the universe's fault.
That's genetics and whatever divine chaos made this man a walking wet dream. I get to fuck this. I get to bend him over my bed and fuck him stupid.
He moans into my mouth. "Don't stop touching me."
I don't. Couldn't even if I fucking tried to. I push his pants and boxers down, look up at him. Fuck. That slim waist. I grab him and drag him onto the bed. I climb on top of him and he yanks my shirt off in one go, throws it somewhere on the floor, then his hands are on my face for a second before they drop to my chest, squeezing hard.
"You want it?" I say.
He nods.
I kiss him satisfied, while my fingers slide between his legs. Our tongues are fighting for dominance, but I let him win, just this once.
"Turn around," I whisper, and he does, right away.
Rolls over, face going down into the pillow, arms slipping up by his head. He shifts his legs just enough, and now he's all laid out, chest to the mattress, ass still low.
But that's not what I asked for.
So I reach for his hips, grip him, and pull.
Now he's up.
Ass in the air, back arched, legs parted the perfect amount. Head dropping onto the pillow, face turned sideways.
As he should. And his back...God, his back. I want to cum all over this thing. Three times in a row. Tattoo stretched acrosshis shoulder blades. Spine a perfect line down to that ass I'd dreamed of touching for weeks.
I kneel between his thighs. My hands smooth over his lower back. My thumbs dig into his hips, pushing his ass up a little more. He tilts it back without me asking.
Fuck. He wants this. He's offering it to me.
I grab the lube, squeeze a line across my fingers, and coat him with slow, purposeful strokes. My index finger circles his hole, then presses in, steady, until he gasps, bites it down in the pillow, but I hear it.
It's the struggle that gets me, when he wants to moan, but bites it back like it'll ruin something if he lets it out. That little shaky inhale. It's fucking beautiful. I watch for it and I wait for it, every single time, because it's proof that he's feeling everything.
Even when he's trying to stay quiet, his body always tells on him. And I eat that shit up.
I love watching him fall apart in silence. Makes me feel special. I lean forward, mouth brushing his shoulder. "Don't hide those sounds from me, love."
"I can't help it," he murmurs, breath shaky. I add a second finger, curling them gently inside him. His back arches. The slick sounds and his little gasps…Jesus Christ.
"You're pretty like this," I whisper, sliding deeper.
He whimpers, and that sound makes my dick twitch against his thigh.
Once he is ready, I guide myself into place. I just let the tip press right up against him, for him to feel it. Let him know it's coming, let his body process it. I run my hands over his hips.
Then I push in.
