The lounge chair’s cushions are covered by fresh towels and the adjustable back is set to about sixty degrees. I lie down, legs hanging over either side of the chair. Santino’s in front of me, facing away, straddling my lap and the chair at the same time. He reaches behind to grab my cock and guides it into his ass.
We both let out sighs of relief as I slide back into his body. I love being in here. I love the way I fit inside him. I love the way it makes me feel so at home.
Santino leans back, legs hooked over the outsides of my knees, letting me take his weight. I drag my hands up his inner thighs. The skin of his taint is so velvety soft and I follow the seam running down the middle to that tight ring of muscle stretched around my cock. Tracing the rim of his hole, feelinghow my cock disappears into his body, it has us both shuddering in pleasure.
“Fucking hell,” Santino groans as he grinds down on me.
His hands find mine and together we explore where we’re connected. He clenches tight around my dick and I can feel how the muscle contracts under my fingers. It’s strangely intimate, touching that area, learning the difference between his skin and mine, knowing exactly how we fit together.
I turn my face into Santino’s neck and breathe in his spicy cinnamon scent. It winds through me and fills me up. It chases away the darkness and turns down the volume on the voice. It makes me whole.
Santino lifts his head from my shoulder and glances down his body. “Oh, fuck.”
Sebastian’s positioned at the foot of the chair, camera pointed right between our legs. He’s probably getting a close-up shot of us touching ourselves.
Santino drops his head back again, turning his face toward me so our cheeks are pressed together. He starts writhing on top of me, his ass grinding into my lap, his hole trying to suck me in deeper. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
Lying on his stomach, his cock is so engorged the head is a deep shade of purple. I can almost see the veins pulsing as blood rushes through them. Pre-cum leaks from the slit, a steady stream dripping down the side of his hip.
Santino pushes himself up to get more leverage, then starts fucking himself on my dick. He lifts one foot up onto the edge of the lounge chair and braces himself with one hand on an armrest. Then he bounces up and down, lifting up halfway and dropping himself into my lap.
My hands roam over his body. His thighs, his waist, his back with the deep valley of his spine. I take his free arm and loop it around the back of my neck, then run my hands across hisstomach, up to his chest. I catch his nipples between my fingers and pinch.
“Oh fuck! Yes! Oh god!” Every muscle in Santino’s body is contracted and taut, standing out in sharp relief. The sunshine lights up his skin and sweat gathers along his back, his chest, his temples.
He’s so caught up in the moment, so lost to what he’s feeling. There's no self-consciousness, no hesitation. Just the simple chase for what he wants, what feels good. I’m amazed how comfortable he is in his own skin, how easily he accepts himself for who he is. He’s confident, but not arrogant. Self-assured, but not obnoxious. It’s hard to believe he’s real. It’s hard to believe he could ever want to be with me.
Santino collapses against me, exhausted from his exertion. His body is heavy and hot, glistening with baby oil and sweat. I want to stay like this, buried inside him while he lies on top of me.
But Sebastian gives me the signal to change positions, so I carefully help Santino up.
He lies on the flat part of the lounge chair and lifts his knees toward his shoulders. I scoot in, facing him, legs straddling the chair. With my hands on his thighs, I pull him down a few inches.
My dick slides in easily now. His hole is nice and loose from all our fucking. Santino grabs the backs of his knees and grins like he’s offering himself up to me. I grin back and snap my hips forward.
“Fuuuckkkk. Yes!” A look of utter euphoria graces his face as he whimpers and whines and sobs each time I bottom out. “Oh my god, yes! Jesus Christ!”
It’s almost more fun watching Santino’s reactions than it is actually fucking him. Especially since there’s no doubt every single one is genuine. He’s not acting. He’s not putting ona show. I know him well enough to know he’s always that expressive, always that vocal when he’s feeling good.
“Yes, right there. Oh fuck, right there. You’re going to make me come. Oh god, I’m going to come!”
I don’t even have time to reach for his dick to give him a hand. Cum shoots out of his cock, landing on his stomach, his chest, his chin. I help finish him off with a few light strokes as the last of his cum dribbles out.
God, he looks so hot like this. All fucked out and covered in sweat and cum. I did this to him. I brought him all this pleasure. I sent him soaring.
Santino blinks slowly at me, panting, and reaches for me. “Come on, babe, come for me.”
It’s as if my body was waiting for his permission. Pressure gathers in my balls so fast it leaves my head spinning and catapults me into the heavens. I’m barely able to pull out of his ass before I’m coming, adding my cum to Santino’s all over his body.
My ears ring. My heart races. Waves of pleasure rock through me again and again.
Santino takes my arm and pulls me down on him. I’m cradled between his legs, our softening cocks snuggled next to each other.
He kisses me. Slow and lazy. I kiss him back, so thankful he walked into my life.
I tuck the towel in around my waist and grab a second one to dry my hair while I pad out into the bedroom from the en suite. Santino’s already dressed in white shorts and a brightyellow tank top. He stops in the middle of packing his bag, eyes roaming over me.
“If I didn’t just have one of the best orgasms of my life out by the pool…” He trails off.
