He breaks the kiss reluctantly, trailing his mouth down my jaw, nipping lightly at the skin there before soothing it with his tongue. He moves to my neck, kissing the pulse point, sucking gently until my breath hitches. His hands join in, palms sliding down my sides, fingers tracing my ribs.
He goes lower still with kisses along my collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow there. He pauses at my chest, mouth closing over one nipple. A long, slow suck, tongue circling the peak until it hardens under his attention. I gasp softly, arching into him, and he switches to the other, hand cupping the first, thumb rubbing gently over the sensitive bud.
"These nipples," he says, voice rough. "Love how they tighten for me. How your whole body shivers when I do this." He flicks his tongue once, then sucks again, drawing out a low moan from me.
He continues down, kissing each ridge of my abs, tongue tracing the lines between them, dipping into my navel before moving lower. His hands splay wide over my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there, holding me steady. He kisses the crease where thigh meets groin, beard grazing my inner thigh in a way that makes me tremble. My cock is hard now, leaking against my stomach, but he doesn't touch it yet. Just breathes hot air over it, making it twitch.
He settles between my legs. The lube comes out. His mouth finds me first. The same soft, warm, devastating attention from last night, and my body responds faster this time because my body remembers. My body remembers this feels good. His tongue works and my hips lift. When the sounds start, I let them come.
He starts with broad, flat licks over my hole, slow and thorough, wetting me with his saliva. The sensation is warm and slick, his tongue circling the rim in lazy spirals, then pressing flat to lap upward in long strokes that make my thighs quiver. He takes his time. Minutes of just this, his tongue dipping inside to tease the sensitive opening before retreating. The pleasure builds gradually, a deep, tingling warmth that spreads through my pelvis, making my cock throb untouched.
"Fuck, Tex," I whisper. "Your tongue feels so good."
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine, and dives deeper, opening me bit by bit. He adds more pressure, lapping at the rim before pressing inside again, the wet heat making my hole clench and relax around him. My breaths come faster, hips rocking slightly into his face as the pleasure intensifies, my body craving more.
After long minutes, he pulls back slightly, adding lube to his fingers. "Using my fingers now," he says softly. "We're going slow. Tell me if it's too much."
One finger first—slick and careful—circling my hole slowly before sliding in. The stretch is familiar, but still intense, my ass parting around him as he pushes knuckle-deep. I gasp, body adjusting to the intrusion, and he holds still, letting me feel it.
"Okay, baby?" he asks.
"Yes. Feels full. Good. Move it."
He does—slow thrusts, curling to brush my prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through me. He adds a second finger after more lube, the stretch burning briefly before melting into deeper fullness, my hole opening wider around him. He works his fingers patiently. Scissoring gently, thrusting slowly, curling against that spot over and over until I'm moaning steadily, hips pushing back for more.
"Add another," I say. "Stretch me more. I want to feel you."
He slicks a third finger, presses in slowly. The burn is sharper, my hole stretching taut around the thickness. He pauses often, checking in, his free hand rubbing my thigh. Minutes pass as he opens me thoroughly—thrusting, scissoring, curling—until my ass is relaxed and eager, the pleasure deep and constant.
He lifts his head. His fingers stay inside me. He looks up at me from between my thighs and his face is flushed and he's breathing hard.
"Are you ready?" he asks. "Do you need more time?"
"I'm ready, Tex."
He withdraws his fingers. He kneels between my legs and reaches for the lube again. I watch him slick himself. The size of him and the thought of where it's going is overwhelming. He's large. To put it mildly. Much bigger than his fingers. Much bigger than my cock, and he seemed to have a little trouble taking it.
He looks down at himself, then looks at me. The expression flickers between desire and genuine concern.
"God, Stormy," he says. "For the first time in my life, I'm wishing I had a small dick. I have never said those words. In the history of my life, that sentence has never come out of mymouth. This is what love does to a man, Stormy. It makes him wish for things he never thought he'd wish for. I'm having a whole experience right now. Emotionally and anatomically."
"I'm not afraid of your size," I say. "You'll fit. I want you inside me."
He positions himself above me and his face fills my vision. For one fraction of a second I tense. There's a body above me, weight between my legs, the shadow and shape of a man and then I see my Tex. Brown eyes. Soft beard. The face I trust more than any face in the world. The shadow passes. It doesn't come back.
It's gone.
He presses forward. I feel him—the reality of him—and he pushes the first inch in and stops.
"That's just the tip. You okay?"
"Yes."
"Want to stop here for tonight? We can keep going again tomorrow. Work our way up to the whole big dick."
"Tex, please… keep going."
"Okay, breathe and relax."
