“Considering you’d have been about ten years old, probably not.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Then yes,” I say without hesitation. “If I’d known you liked dick, I’d have had you every which way. I’d have made you wear a shirt to school that said Cassius’s #1 Bitch Boy.”
“Who’s the bitch now,” he says smugly.
“You’re still the bitch,” I remind him and squeeze his balls so hard that he cries out in pain. “Now, why don’t you take off your uniform, hot stuff, and show me what all that time in the gym has been for?”
He smiles and strips out of his shirt, impressing me yet again with his gains. He’s fucking perfection, every muscle in proportion to his frame, his skin a beautifully tanned canvas stretched taut over tendon, tissue, and bone. I’d bet his organs are just as hearty. If I didn’t prefer him alive, I’d dissect every bit of him just to see the shape of his interior.
“Flex for me,” I say, and he does a few weightlifting poses, biceps popping, veins branching like rivers over his bulging muscles. He makes a full turn and bunches up his ass cheeks, one and then the other. “Very nice,” I say in appreciation and reach into my briefs to drag my own dripping cock through the valley of my hand. “Now the pants.”
He tugs them down to his ankles and kicks them, along with his cleats, off to the side. “Leave the socks,” I tell him. They’re red too, matching his jock and the ball cap, which he turns backward of his own accord. I nearly come undone right then.
“You gonna swing that ass my way, rich boy,” he asks and tugs indulgently on his oversized dick.
“You’d better go lightly,” I warn. My asshole is already throbbing from what is sure to be a wild ride.
“I’ll be sweet to you, baby boy,” he coos. “Now turn around and show me what I’m working with.”
I pivot on the bed, now on my hands and knees, which is such a degrading position, like a goddamned broodmare. Adam hooks his thumbs under the elastic of my underwear and drags it down my legs. I honestly can’t believe I agreed to this so spontaneously. I decide right then that I will never again make important decisions while in the throes of orgasm afterglow.
“Nice ass,” he says and gives me a smack. “Hey, batter, batter. Hey batter, batter, swing,” he hums along to the iconic HSM2 songI Don’t Dance, which is just ridiculous enough to put me at ease. This is Adam, after all.
I shiver as cold, bubblegum-flavored lube dribbles onto my crack. I know because he insisted on buying a sampler pack. He circles my hole with one finger before pressing inside.
“Yeah, baby,” Adam says, finger-fucking me while jacking himself. “That’s fucking tight as shit. It’s probably gonna burn a little.”
“Just get on with it,” I say impatiently. He watches me in the mirror, smiling at my discomfort, probably thinking I deserve a little degradation after all the humiliation he’s had to endure. But instead of saying anything more, he simply strips off his jock, catches the fabric in one hand, and tucks it into my mouth. It tastes like ball sweat and precum and makes my mouth water more than if I were eating a prime rib.
“You look good like that,” he says, still smirking, then squats down to eat me out. His ass and thighs are fucking juicy, and that backward cap is really selling it. He’s not too shabby at rimming either. Enthusiastic, which is key. To my horror, I find myself inching backward so he can get deeper, spreading my legs wider and grinding against his face like a common slut.
“Fuck yes,” Adam says, pumped, and wipes his mouth with the back of one sculpted forearm. “Fucking A, that’s hot.”
His eyes are dilated like he’s on drugs. My hole clenches on nothing. “Fuck me already,” I snarl through the material, but it comes out as a growl. He receives the message and dribbles more lube onto his prick, until it’s glossy and shining all over. He lines up, his girthy member positioned to violate my dainty little flower. I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare for this unholy invasion.
“Easy now, Peacock,” he says and rubs one hand along my thigh. I reach back into my early days of bottoming and remind myself to let go, which is easier said than done. “There you go. Unclench, babe. You’re doing great.”
I shiver and sweat and watch him in the mirror as he slowly lays siege on my rectal cavity, forcing his way past my poor, defenseless sphincter. He pauses every inch or so to swivel his hips, loosening me up along the way. At least I know with complete confidence I’m squeaky clean down there. Shit may happen, but not to Cassius Peacock.
When at last he’s fully seated inside me, he leans forward to kiss the nape of my neck, resting the entirety of his weight on top of me. I feel my mother’s eyes upon me, her ghost perhaps, shaking her head with a mocking, cruel smile. She was tolerant of my homosexuality, but never passed up the opportunity to get her digs in. She’d always assumed me to be the receptive partner, which is probably why part of me still rebels against it.
Look at me now, ma.
My thighs ache and my asshole burns, but when Adam rises again to his full height, he resembles a lusting god of war. My beautiful jock-bro slut.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” he says, hyping himself up in typical fashion. “You like my big, gorgeous dick, don’t you? You gonna take it all?”
No, just the tip,I deadpan to myself.
He smacks my ass again and positions himself with one knee bent, socked foot braced on the bed, haughty and arrogant. His hips roll in smooth, sensual circles, thrusting upward to fuck me wide open, slowly though, and with surprising skill. My hole flares around his thick shaft, protesting only a little before surrendering completely to this wondrous sensation. I mentally let go of my need for control, crumple it up in a ball and toss it out the window. To Adam’s credit, he nails my prostate like a marksman but with a cock his size, it’d be hard to miss.
“Fuck that’s hot,” he says, watching us both in the mirror like he’s getting off just as much on his performance as he is the friction. I look positively shameless, still gagged by his jock strap with a dazed look on my face,taking it, while Adam, tanned and muscular, rides my ass as if it were a mechanical bull, swinging one arm over his head with his ballcap in hand like a lasso. Fuck, my man is stupidly hot.
My brain shuts off, focused only on the mounting pressure to my swollen, sensitive prostate and the throbbing in my groin. I spit out the jock so that I can catch my breath, trying to match his thrusts, impaling myself on his thick, donkey dick.
“Fuck, baby, you look so fucking hot bent over like that. You better come soon, though. Grab your dick and pump it, bro.”
