“That was sexy last time we hooked up,” I start.
Clay pushes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was.” He avoids my eyes for a moment, takes a swig of his drink, and looks back at me. “Been thinking about it.”
Heat washes through me, glad that he has, too. “Can I kiss you?” I ask.
Clay nods, and I move over. Throwing a leg across him, I straddle Clay as I kiss him. My tongue slides across his bottom lip, and my fingers play in the hair on the back of his head.
He pulls me to him, deepening the kiss. When I finally lean back, I let out a satisfied hum.
“I’m definitely up for more anal play,” I tell him. “But there’s a lot more for you to try, if you’d like.”
Clay leans back, too, and drags his eyes over my body, lingering at my crotch. Heat pools there, and I get hard under his gaze.
When he pulls his face up again, I bite my lip, letting him feel how much he turns me on, and giving him a moment to think without talking.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “I’m ready for something new.”
I lean forward, kissing him again, faster this time. His dick is thick and hard in his jeans, and I have to fight the urge to pull him out and take him in my mouth.
I put my lips to Clay’s ear instead. “Do you want to touch my cock?” I ask.
He growls under his breath, affirming.
“Good,” I say and draw my hand gently up his bulge. “Your dick feels so good in my hand.”
Clay grabs my side, pulling me harder against him. “What about you?” he asks as we grind slow and steady together, falling back into our established rhythms. “What do you want, Nicholas?”
“What do you think of dirty talk?” I ask, panting under my breath.
The idea has always turned me on, but I’ve never had the right opportunity to try more than a few words here and there. My serious boyfriends have all been vanilla, and our sex never left much room for that kind of play.
Clay considers me. “It’s hot that you want that,” he says evenly, “but you know I’m not much of a talker.”
I whisper my fingers over his bulge some more. “But I am,” I answer.
He growls. “Talk dirty to me, Nicholas,” he says. “I want you to tell me every filthy word in your head.”
I laugh as pleasure rolls through me. Clay pulls me back into the kiss. We roll against each other, and he quickly gets back on top, groping my side and groaning as our tongues swirl.
His hand goes up my torso, possessive. As we make out, his grip goes lower, closer and closer to my crotch.
“My cock is already so hard for you,” I tell him, enjoying the words on my lips.
Clay ruts his erection against my thigh, his big body all over me. “Me, too,” he says.
“Clay,” I breathe. “I’m so stiff it hurts, and I’m not going to feel better until you touch it.”
His big hand brushes over my dick. Clay tenses, but quickly recovers. Kissing me again, he drags his palm up my erection, feeling my length.
“That’s right,” I encourage him. I press my hand against his bulge again, palming him harder. “Your dick is so heavy and thick,” I tell him, murmuring the words. “Drives me wild just thinking about you using it.”
Clay responds to the vocalization. He pulls his jeans open and pushes them down, freeing his hard dick from his boxers, too. His thick erection slaps against his hairy abs, precum glistening at his dark crown.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing at my jeans. “Your mouth is working me up.”
He yanks my pants down and grabs my dick in my briefs. Squeezing my shaft, Clay rubs his forehead against mine.
I pull my shirt off. “You like it when I talk about your dick?”
