“Oh my fucking Christ,” he shouts and struggles up onto his elbows. He stares at me intently through sexily half-lowered eyelids. “Fuck me,” he breathes as I take him down.
I pause dramatically and then wink at him and swallow.
“Ungh,” he grunts, and then he pushes my head back gently until he leaves my mouth with a gentle pop. I eye his cock avariciously as it gleams wet from my mouth.
“Why did you do that? I could have gone longer,” I inform him.
He groans. “I couldn’t. I was about to come, and then I’d be useless to you.” He grins at me. “So, when you said party trick, I was imagining you making balloon animals. I bet you were a popular boy.”
I smile. “You have no idea what I can do with coloured rubber.”
“I’d love to fuck you. Do you do that?”
I open my eyes wide. “Oh my God, yes. I didn’t come here for afternoon tea. I want a good hard fucking.”
“Where have you been all my life?” he says, grinning at me. He’s gorgeous in the afternoon sunshine, all broad shoulders and long legs, handsome face flushed and intent but still with that glimmer of lazy laughter. It seems to cling to him like magic fairy dust.
I swallow and get back with the programme. “Where are your condoms and lube?” He points to the good old bedside table standby, and I grin. “Get comfortable,” I instruct him, rising to my feet. As I stroll over and open the drawer, I’m aware of his eyes hot on me like a touch.
I grab the condom box and extract one, then tear off the wrapper and palm the slippery circle. “Like what you see?” I ask, picking up the lube bottle and tossing it next to where he’s now lying on the bed, all the long length of him stretched out for my viewing delight.
He fists his cock and strokes while watching me. “I definitely do. I must visit bookshops more often.”
“Ah, I feel I’m giving you unrealistic expectations.” I climb onto the wide bed and knee-walk over to him. I push his hand away and roll on the condom, fisting his length and finishing with a gentle snap. The sound always reminds of the starting pistol to a lovely race. “Maybe avoid bookshops from now on.”
I climb onto him and settle myself down to sit just above his cock. He’s a brilliant mattress, all hard muscles and sleek skin that’s roughened by hair that tickles the inside of my thighs deliciously. I squeeze a dollop of lube into my hand, and he starts to sit up, his stomach muscles contracting in a very distracting manner.
“Let me,” he says.
“Don’t need you to help, thanks. I can do this bit myself.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
I really can’t see the attraction in someone else doing this. It’s just fucking. I can get myself ready, and then I know it’s done properly. If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing yourself, my dad always said, although I’m pretty sure the homophobic old sod wasn’t thinking of this.
I reach behind me and trace one slippery finger down my crease. I breathe in sharply as it touches the nerve-rich opening. “Mmm,” I say throatily.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Look at you.”
He pumps more lube over his hand, and I groan as he fists my cock and starts to slide his hand up and down, tugging the foreskin down with the movement of his fingers. I pause and sit panting for a second as he runs his fingers over the newly exposed head.
“Sensitive,” he says knowingly. “I always envy you non-circumcised blokes. The head’s always so tender.”
“Mmm,” I say, wriggling around in my seated position. Remembering that I was doing something, I slide one finger in and pause to savour the feeling.
“That’s a faraway expression. Is it good?” he asks throatily.
For a second, I have the absurd notion of telling him not to look. Something about his dark eyes and the laughter in them makes me uneasy, but then his hand twists on my cock and I moan instead. “So good,” I say and slide another finger in, stretching myself gently as he carries on jacking my dick with just the right technique and pressure. It’s as if he’s read a guide dedicated to the care of Felix’s cock.
I look down at his big dick. “I’d better add three fingers,” I say.
He chuckles, but it’s harsh, and his cheekbones are flushed red, his mouth full and wet.
I finish my prep and run my lubed fingers down his cock until it gleams. “More,” he says holding out his hand, and I obediently pump some more lube into his palm. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he informs me.
“That’s very gentlemanly.”
He grins. It’s wide and white and pretty. “Well, that’s me. A gentleman.”
“I’m quite positive that has never been said about you,” I say briskly. “And I know that after only an hour’s acquaintance.” I hold his cock up and shuffle down his body until I feel it hot and damp against my hole. Holding it steadily, I slowly push down on it, feeling the usual pressure and then the overwhelming feeling of fullness.
“Easy,” he says hoarsely, his big hands resting on my sharp hipbones, ready to stop me at any point.
I know my limits, and I slide down steadily until my bum comes to rest on his groin and we both pause to groan.
“Shit, that feels good,” he says.
I nod, unable to speak. I wait for a second to adjust to the feel of him, and then I raise and lower myself gently as a test. It feels incredibly good, and so I do it again, rising higher and coming down in one long, slow screw.
“Oh God,” he gasps. “Don’t stop.” He grabs my backside, his big hands cupping my buttocks and squeezing the small globes. “Your arse is fucking perfect,” he growls.
“Let’s see how the rest of me does.” I push his hands to the bed and anchor my hands on his wide, hair-roughened chest. I dimly notice scars all over the surface of his skin, including one very angry-looking one that seems fairly recent. But when he lifts his hips and fucks into me groaning loudly, I lose my concentration.
Before long, I’m bouncing up and down on his dick, panting and crying out at the incredible feeling. At first, he lets me have the reins, and I lean back, resting my hands on his thighs and jouncing on his cock.
“God,” he says fervently, grabbing my cock and jerking me steadily. “God, that’s so good.”
Sweat covers my face and body, chilling quickly in the air conditioning. “Mmm,” I say.
He breaks, grabbing my bum and fucking up into me with hard, battering thrusts. “Take it,” he grunts.
“Oh shit,” I gasp as he hits my prostate and he holds me steadily, working that spot with the smooth, fluid motion of his narrow hips. “Going to come.” I reach down to stroke myself. “Ungh.”
I come in long, racking spasms, emptying myself over his stomach and chest. He fucks up into me for a few more seconds before stilling and giving a long groan that rises in volume until he collapses back into the bed and takes me with him into a tangled mess of sticky skin and damp sheets.
A long while later, the shadows are lengthening across the room, and I know it’s time to go. I’m panting hard, the sweat and come sticky on my skin from the last bout of fucking. When my breathing levels, I roll over and sit up.