“Like this?” Olly asked, opening the lube and pouring some onto two of his fingers.
I nodded, biting my lip. He shifted down until my knees were on his shoulders now, not my ankles, giving him easier access and exposing me even further. I hissed when the cold lube touched my skin, then relaxed again as he slowly began to massage and rub it around my rim.
“More,” I murmured. The feel of him was so delicious – the look of serious concentration on his face – how badly he wanted to get it right.
“More lube?” he asked, reaching for the bottle.
“No,” I said, reaching out and stopping his wrist. I waited until his eyes met mine. “Morefinger.”
Olly bit his lip and swore, and eased the tip of his index finger past my rim, stretching soreness for a moment until he was inside and my muscles relaxed again.
“Like that?” he asked.
“More,” I said, arching my hips just the tiniest amount, urging his finger deeper inside little by little. Somewhere in there, I knew, there was a spot – “Fuck!”
Olly froze. “Bad?”
“So, so good,” I whimpered. “Do it again.”
Olly moved his finger in and out, gently, slowly, finding that spot that set all my nerves on fire. I whimpered and moaned as he carefully focused on my pleasure, driving into that point again and again. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was starting to see stars.
“Ol,” I whimpered. “Need – need you.”
“I’m here,” he said immediately.
“No,” I told him. I managed to garner enough awareness of the jellified limbs of my body to reach out and find his dick, squeezing and stroking it. “Needyou.”
Olly’s eyes widened. He was so eager and rushed to respond that he fumbled, dropping the condom wrapper and having to scramble to pick it up again. Through the haze of blood rushing anywhere but my brain I managed to grin. The famed college sports star, unable to keep hold of a simple object.
Then his huge cock nudged against my entrance and I suddenly couldn’t find it funny anymore.
I watched as he thought again, pulled back slightly and added more lube, then lined himself up a second time. He used his hands to lift my hips, sliding them under my ass to support me, then taking one hand back to guide himself in. I was almost ready to take over and do it myself when he finally breached my rim, blasting all thoughts out of my head and stretching me further for a moment or two of discomfort.
“Is that alright?” he breathed. I could see by the veins in his neck that he was doing as much as he could to hold himself back. Waiting to see if I was alright. This darling, gentle, huge football player.
“More,” I moaned, the only word I knew anymore.
Olly eased deeper and deeper, filling me so full that it brought tears to the corners of my eyes, pushing gently down and down until he bottomed out. I gasped for breath, unable to stop myself from wiggling my hips when he paused. I looked at his face and saw him bathed in a glow of pleasure, biting his lip, looking like he’d never had it this good before. Then he started to move and I couldn’t keep my eyes on him – couldn’t keep my eyes open – couldn’t do anything but throw my head back and groan and cry out with each thrust of his glorious dick.
We settled into a rhythm, steady and strong, my hips lifting to meet Olly as he thrust gradually harder and harder. His arms were corded with muscle that stood out as he leaned over me, hands on either side of my head, supporting his weight.
I surged up to kiss him, tangling my hands behind his head, needing him all over me. I was addicted to running my hands over his short-cropped hair, letting the strands slide and fuzz over my fingers, to the way he would moan in the back of his throat as I did it. Then he would hit that spot inside of me that made stars burst inside the dark sky of my eyelids, and I would lose track of everything – only to start all over again as he pulled out for the next thrust.
“Oh, Keat,” he said, pulling back just the slightest amount, his breath hot against my lips. “Oh, god – oh, god…”
I watched him, watched his face, watched his eyes as he came inside of me, how the pleasure swept over him and smoothed out every line of worry and care. How he shuddered and clung to me and let it ride him, pumping his hips a few last times to keep the wave going. His face dropped against my neck, his skin damp against mine – and, I was sure, mine against his.
“Fuck, Keat,” he said. He sat up but didn’t pull out right away. He reached for my cock instead, still sitting straight up between us, and began to pump me up and down as he leaned over to capture my mouth again. It didn’t take much. The touch of his tongue with mine, the heat of his body, the way his dick still pressed up inside me, the thought of that look on his face, and finally the pressure of his hand – I shot my release between us within moments, crying out and calling out his name as I splattered my own chest and his.
“Fuck,” Olly said. His arms were shaking. I gently disengaged his hand from my dick and helped him pull out, then flop down beside me. “Well, now I know.”
“Know what?” I asked.
“I’m definitely gay,” he said, nuzzling and nipping at the side of my neck for just a moment before he collapsed back on the pillow in exhaustion.
Olly
Six months later
