“Fucckkkk,” he hisses, pressing back into me.
“You know I only fuck you because you’re the sole piece of ass so readily available. If there was anyone else, I’d never even look at you,” I hiss. “You’re just so damn needy.”
It’s a lie. I’ve not touched a single person—not a man or woman—since meeting Santi. I’ve been able to fight off physical desires in the past. Hell, it was easy back then. Given that my body’s will to live was at an all time low, just eating was something I had to force myself to do. Erections were certainly not happening. But with Santi? He breathes life into me, whether I want it or not. He’s a warm breeze in an otherwise frigid world. The response to his presence is an inability to fight the connection that draws the two of us together.
Santi hums. “You’re right, I am.”
I slap his ass hard, pressing into the spot to increase the burn of the sting. “Shut up, slut.”
He laughs breathlessly as I pull my fingers out of him. Quickly, I lube my dick up, then position it against his entrance.
“Does my pretty little whore want this dick?” I ask softly.
Santi nods eagerly. “Yes,please, Rhett.”
“I want more than that, slut. Tell me how much you need me.”
He presses back into me, trying to force me to sink into his body but I pull away. With a frustrated groan, he buries his face into my pillow.
“Please, please, please fuck me, Rhett. Let me feel whole again. I’m just an empty whore without you. When you fill me up, I feel like I’ve earned your cum. That I’ve been a good slut. Fill me up, Rhett!” he says, his voice muffled and strained.
I chuckle. “Well, since you begged so prettily…”
I’m not gentle or slow as I thrust into Santi. That’s just not my style. Not anymore, anyway.
Maybe, in another life, I enjoyed that shit, but sex is about busting a nut and nothing else. There doesn’t need to be cuddlesor sweet, coaxing words to find a climax. At least not between me and Santi. Thankfully, he doesn’t need it. This is one of the things I appreciate most about him because I have no sweetness to give. I’m just a shell of man that hosts the stained soul of a bastard.
Santi’s howl is stifled by my pillow as I bottom out in one thrust. Santi’s hips begin to sink as his back bows but I don’t allow him to slink away from me. I grab his hips in a brutal grip as I pull out and slam back in. Santi howls again but this time it’s followed by a deep, guttural groan.
“That’s right, pretty whore.” I slide out, then slam back in. Pleasure shoots up my spine and down into my balls. Fuck, he’s so damn tight. I repeat the motion over, and over, in a harsh, steady rhythm. “Take this dick like the pretty, good boy you are.”
“You think I’m pretty?” He teases with a breathless laugh.
Unable to suppress it, I chuckle. “Pretty enough to fuck, I guess.”
At this Santi really laughs. The motion causes his ass to tighten around my cock and I groan loudly.
“Rhett,fuck,” he hisses, lifting his head as his ass pushes back to meet my thrusts. “Touch me, please.”
My hips don’t stop moving, but mentally I hesitate.
It’s not that I mind touching him. If it was just about the sex, fine. Unfortunately, it’s not. Santi craves touch. For him, any extra touching other than what’s necessary to get off, makes him brighten like a glow stick. I know his heart swells and he gets all these butterflies in his stomach. He’s made it very clear how he feels about me and how I makehimfeel.
But I want nothing to do with that shit.
What’s between us needs to be purely physical.
It’s not that I’m ashamed of being with Santi.
My sexuality is fluid—always has been. Men, women… Who the fuck cares who you find attractive? And Santi would be acatch for anyone if he set his sights on them. It would be fucking insane to be embarrassed with him by my side.
The problem is that I’m ashamed of myself for how mentally weak I am.
This moment of ecstasy will last seconds. The guilt that will come right afterward will haunt me until the next time Santi comes begging for my cock. I shouldn’t be enjoying my life. Not on my own or with Santi or with any other partner. I should be atoning for the sins of my past. Every moment I’m not thinking of Abby, I’m failing her.
It sickens me how easily I succumb to temptation.
“Please, touch your good little whore,” Santi pleads, as his hips arch further and I sink deeper into his ass.
