I moved to the doggy-style position, my ass in the air.
Wes teased my hole gently for several minutes, circling his cock over my opening, then inching in slowly to start.
“How does this feel?” he rasped.
“Surprisingly good.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t.”
“Good,” he murmured.
Then I felt the first real push of his cock into my ass. It burned a little.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
My voice trembled. “Keep going.”
I reached for my clit, circling my fingers around the tender flesh as Wes moved in and out of me.
He was all the way inside now, moving a bit faster, with more ease.
It was a strange sensation, but I grew more aroused by the second. I was glad my first anal-sex experience was with him, even if his girth was a bit much to take.
“I need to slow down or I’m gonna come,” he said. “You’re so tight, and it feels too damn good.”
Rather than supporting that, I pushed my ass back against him.
“Fuck,” he warned. “Don’t do that.”
I giggled under my breath.
When he resumed fucking me, I tightened my muscles around him.
“Shit.” He gripped my side with his right hand and squeezed hard, as if that somehow might help him stave off an orgasm.
When my muscles tightened around him in climax, Wes let go, groaning as he filled me with his hot load. Though it hurt a little at first, this had turned into the most erotic experience of my life.
“Forget what I said about truth or dare.” He slowly pulled out and kissed up my back. “It’s my favorite game now.”
***
The next morning, my father called and gave us the all-clear to leave the house.
I told Wes I wanted to go to this farmer’s market I’d heard about. It was only open on Saturday mornings, so I wanted to take advantage. We skipped breakfast and grabbed coffee on the way, figuring we’d taste test some things at the market. Among the items I hoped to score: fresh sourdough bread, wildflower honey, and these chocolate-covered strawberries I’d heard were amazing.
Despite last night’s hot sex, I found myself ruminating again about Wes’s change in attitude. It seemed to be back this morning, but I also wondered if I was reading into things too much.
But as we strolled the market, I couldn’t shake it. We stood at a table of farm-fresh eggs, hatched from local pasture-raised chickens, and I turned to him. “What’s really going on, Wes?” I swallowed. “Are you sure you’re not having doubts about us?”
He let out a long breath. “I’ve always been up front about the doubts I have, Juliette. Not about you, but about our ability to be together long term—for obvious reasons.”
“Why were you okay with us a few days ago, but suddenly turned weird? It’s like a switch flipped.”
He looked down at his feet. “I might’ve been in a weird mood lately, but that doesn’t mean you have to assign meaning to it.”
I raised my voice. “But your mood changed after you spoke to my father. So that tells me it’s not random. Did he say something you’re not telling me?”
