He listens. His finger keeps circling the rim, slick and patient, letting the muscle soften bit by bit. Every pass sends little sparks up my spine, a warmth that spreads through my pelvis and makes my cock twitch against the sheets. He presses just the pad against the center—testing, not pushing, and I exhale shakily.
"Still good?" he asks.
"More than good. Feels... sensitive. Like my body's waking up in a new way. Keep going."
He adds more pressure, slow and steady. The tip of his finger breaches me—just the first knuckle—and I feel the stretch, small but real, the ring of muscle parting around him. It's strange at first, a fullness that's foreign but not painful, and I breathe deep, letting my body adjust. He holds still, letting me feel it, letting me decide.
"Keep going," I whisper. "Deeper. Slowly."
He slides in another fraction, then another, until the whole finger is buried. The stretch is more than I expected—his finger feels thick inside my ass, pressing against sensitive walls in a way that's both intense and strangely comforting. He curls it gently, searching, and when he brushes my prostate the pleasure is immediate and shocking—a bright, electric jolt that makes my cock leak a thick bead of precum onto the sheets and my hips jerk involuntarily.
"Fuck," I groan. "There. Right there. That's... God, that's good."
He strokes that spot again and the pleasure builds in waves, deep and rolling, making my thighs tremble and mybreath come in short gasps. My hole clenches around his finger, then relaxes, accepting him more easily with every pass.
"Okay?" he asks again.
"So okay. Feels full. Deep. Like you're touching something I didn't know was there. Add another. Please."
He withdraws just enough to add more lube, the coolness dripping down my ass then presses two fingers against me. The stretch is sharper now, a real burn that makes me hiss through my teeth, but his free hand immediately lands on the small of my back, steadying, grounding, thumb rubbing soothing circles.
"Too much?" he asks, the concern clear.
"No. Don't stop. I'm adjusting. Just give me a second."
His hand on my back stays warm and still, his fingers inside me patient and unmoving. I breathe deep, slow inhales through my nose, long exhales through my mouth and the muscle gradually yields. The burn eases into a heavy, satisfying fullness, my hole stretching around two of his fingers, walls fluttering as they adjust to the intrusion.
"Move," I tell him. "Slowly."
His fingers slide deeper, then pull back almost to the tips before pushing in again. The rhythm is careful, every thrust accompanied by more lube so everything stays slick and easy. He curls them on each inward stroke, brushing my prostate over and over, and the pleasure is relentless in deep, pulsing waves that make my cock throb against the mattress and my hips rock back to meet him.
"Fuck, Stormy," I groan. "Your fingers feel so thick inside my ass. Stretching me open. Hitting that spot... keep doing that. Please keep doing that."
He does. Slow, steady thrusts that drag against my walls, curling every time to press that swollen bundle of nerves. My hole clenches and relaxes around him, greedy now, pulling him deeper. The wet sounds of lube and skin fill the room—filthy, intimate—and I can feel myself leaking steadily, cock aching with need.
He adds a third finger after more lube, going even slower. The stretch is intense. Burning, full, almost too much and I tense for a second before forcing myself to breathe through it.
"Easy," he whispers. "Tell me if it's too much."
"It's... a lot. But good. Full. Like my ass is opening for you. Keep going. Slow."
He works the third finger in carefully, pausing every few seconds to let me adjust. When he's fully inside—three fingers stretching my hole wide—the fullness is overwhelming, every nerve singing. He thrusts slowly, scissoring gently to open me further, curling against my prostate until I'm shaking, moaning into the pillow, hips pushing back shamelessly.
"Tex," he says, voice rough and wrecked. "I need... I want... can I?"
"Do it," I gasp. "I'm ready. I want you inside me."
He withdraws his fingers slowly, the sudden emptiness making me clench around nothing. I hear more lube, the wet sound of him coating himself thoroughly. He positions himself behind me, thighs bracketing mine, hands gripping my hips. He pulls me back slightly, adjusting the angle, and the fact that he's moving me, arranging my body the way he wants it, sends a rush through me that I wasn't prepared for.
This is what it feels like. To be the one who's positioned instead of the one doing the positioning. To give someone else control of your body and trust them with it.
"Stormy."
"Yeah?"
"I love you. I want you to know that before this starts. I love you and I trust you and there is nothing about this that I don't want."
"I love you too." His voice breaks on the last word. His hands tighten on my hips.
