He blinks as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. “Fine.”
“Now, prepare to be wooed.”
He smiles as I lead him to my bedroom, our bedroom now it would seem, which has been readied for this momentous occasion—candles, soft music, flattering lighting, the works. I give Adam a popper because he’s tight as fuck, and I don’t want to spend all night trying to pry his cheeks apart. When his face has that lovely rose-colored flush and his muscles appear loose and pliable, I begin to work a single digit inside him, kissing him at my leisure while I do.
“You’ve never kissed me like this before,” he says dreamily when I shift from his face to his neck.
“Because I don’t like the taste of wheatgrass,” I reply and lap at one of his tight, perfect nipples. He giggles and I take the opportunity to suck another bruise onto his pec. He’ll have to learn to cover my marks with makeup.
“But you’re such a good kisser, Mr. Peacock. Kiss me again,” he demands, then takes on an affected accent that is surely an imitation of Victoria Childs. “Kiss me, Beau, as if we’ll never make love again, as if—ohhh….” He interrupts his maudlin interpretation to moan with whorish abandon. Looks like I’ve located his prostate. “Do that again.”
“Bossy much?”
“I’m not being bossy. I’m being enthusiastic,” he says, repeating what I once told him I wanted in a bottom.
“Enough of this.” I push him to the side so I can arrange myself on the pillows. “Sit on my face.”
“Oh my god, Mr. Lysol OCD Germaphobe is going to eat ass?” he brays with another of his delirious giggles.
“I will slap you silly if you don’t start behaving,” I tell him, then realize he’d probably like that.
Adam arranges himself so that he’s perched just above my mouth, and now I have a closeup of his tight pucker, just as pink and luscious as his lips. Hairless, probably bleached too. I haven’t investigated all of Adam’s beauty rituals but have allowed him to retain some mystery. My jaw is going to cramp before all of this is through, and I will definitely be chasing it with a generous amount of mouthwash, but for now I guide him down so that my tongue laves his tight rim like licking the salt from a margarita glass. His scent is pleasant enough thanks to his rigorous enema. His soft chirrups of pleasure indicate he is liking the sensation too. When his sphincter is moist and relaxed, I make my first lingual foray into his silky inner tissues. If he sat down all the way, I’d surely be suffocated to death, but he only shudders magnificently and braces himself while I use both my hands to make him bounce.
“Oh,” he gasps, fucking himself on my tongue while using my erection as a joystick. He has good instincts. “Oh fuck, oh fuck me, fuck…”
He’s terribly incoherent during sex, which suits me just fine. When he’s loose enough to take something larger than a tongue, I shove him forward and kick his legs apart at his knees. I slip two lubed fingers inside and work his sphincter open, stroking his prostate while he shivers and moans. And there he is, open and inviting, wet cherry gaping and ready to be ass-fucked by my cock.Fucking finally.He’s still tense, though, which means this may smart a bit. I lube up my dick and prepare to steal home base. Christ, I’m thinking in sports analogies now.
“Is it supposed to take this long?” Adam whines, his dick going limp in my hand as I painstakingly work my way past the first ring of muscle one millimeter at a time. The more he clenches around my cock, the more determined I become. I will breach these buns of steel if it’s the last thing I do.
“Bear down, dove, or we might have to call the fire department to turn the hose on us.”
He wiggles, trying to get comfortable or perhaps trying to get away, so I rest my weight on top of him until he’s lying flush against the mattress.
“Stop squirming, Adam. Take a few deep breaths and unclench your asshole before I lose all circulation to my dick.”
“Like this?” His body lifts and falls as he breathes, tight muscles slowly relaxing around my cock.
“Yes, much better.” I rise to my knees, sliding along the inner walls of his rectum until I bottom out completely. I rest there for a moment, then give him a few infinitesimal thrusts. “How’s that?” I ask.
“Better,” he says with a soft sigh.
“I don’t have the opportunity to deflower virgins very often,” I tell him as he quivers beneath me. I give his shoulder a little love bite. “Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“That makes it better for me. I like it when you’re scared, wondering if I might hurt you.”
“Seems pretty fucked up,” he says, angling his head to the side so I can kiss his neck.
“Probably, but then, we can’t control what excites us, can we?”
“I guess not,” he says, breath going ragged. Instead of shrinking away, he starts pushing back against me.
“I haven’t popped a cherry in a while. Virgins are the first to turn into needy little sluts once they’ve had a proper dicking. And so fucking clingy. Is that going to be you, Adam?”
“Probably. I’m pretty clingy already.”
I smile at his honesty and inhale the sweet tang of sex and sweat—his and mine. It hangs in the air like a heady perfume. “You’re going to be bound to me after this. Always seeking that initial rush of pleasure, a slave to the dick that first conquered your tight, tender hole.” I give him one good thrust, and he hisses and arches his back like an alley cat.
