Page 12 of Glitter

Chapter 12

How fast could I… I gaped at him, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, as I tried to process his question.

My mouth was also open, not that any words were coming out. Just as well, as I didn’t know what my answer was. Although, with as hard as I’d just come, I was pretty sure my dick was going to be down for the count for quite a while.

Not waiting for me to answer his question, my angel gracefully rose from the loveseat, his body brushing along mine as he stood. His scent teased my nose—still sweet, but not the super sugary, candy-sweetness of earlier. Whatever cologne he’d applied to his body when he’d changed his clothing, it contained richer, warmer notes that brought to mind candlelight and gourmet caramels.

He didn’t seem to mind my speechlessness. A soft smile gently curved his full lips, and his eyes—those light blue eyes flecked with palest green—they almost appeared filled with…affection.

Normally, I’d pessimistically think that the expression was merely a trick of the light, except for once, I was able to clearly see my angel’s eyes; I wasn’t stuck looking at him beneath the various terrible lighting of a club. No dim corners, no flashing strobe lights, no harshly artificial fluorescent fixtures. I finally got to see my angel in proper lighting.

And I gobbled up every detail I could to imprint on my memory.

Before tonight, I hadn’t known that my angel had the faintest sprinkling of freckles on his nose. Miniscule latte specks that were normally hidden under sparkling glitter. I hadn’t known that he had a tiny, half-moon scar next to the outer edge of his left eyebrow. A nearly invisible, white-on-white blemish on creamy, otherwise flawless skin.

If I’d never gotten to see him outside of the club, I would never have known that his skin was so delicate, so fair, that his veins branched blue shadowy rivers down his forearms and the backs of his hands.

He was a glittery, sparkling angel inside of a club. In his own home, within the loving reach of his own lights, his few physical imperfections more easily visible…he was, somehow, even more impossibly perfect.

His eyes twinkled and his soft smile turned teasing as he nudged me back. And it was just as well I hadn’t answered his question, because what he did next would’ve made me a liar.

Scooting around me, he started walking toward his bedroom. His voice was light and flirty as he called back, “I’m feeling optimistic. Why don’t you ditch your clothes, boo, and we can find out.”

Then, as he drew even with the fabric screens separating the living area from his bedroom, my angel slid his robe from his shoulders. The thin fabric silently fluttered as it made its way to slither to the floor; a black, silky, shadow-wing cascading to pool in a cloth puddle.

Long, long lines of delicate bones and lean muscle, all encased in so much dewy, silky skin were all suddenly exposed to my stunned, hungry gaze. So much skin. So, so much. The only bit of covering now hiding any of it was the whisper-thin layer of his sheer, black, thigh-high stockings.

The swift and unexpected miles of nearly complete nudity had my dick swelling surprisingly quickly. Much quicker than I’d have believed possible. I wasn’t fully hard again, not yet, but fuck if I wasn’t well on my way almost there.

After he rounded the screens, I couldn’t see him anymore, but I swear the sight he’d presented would forever be emblazoned on my brain.

I was still standing like an idiot in front of his sofa—my shirt untucked, my pants open, and my dick pulled out of my underwear and waving around out in the open—when he spoke again. “What’s keeping you, boo?” My guilt surged as he added, “I’m still horny.” Because, while he’d gotten me off—and spectacularly—I hadn’t done anything for him yet tonight.

I was finally able to get words to leave my mouth. Not well, but they did come out. “C-coming,” I said. “I’m coming.”

To which he jokingly replied, “Already? I had hopes that you’d get hard again quickly, boo. Not that you’d come again for the second time tonight so quickly.”

It felt silly, talking to him while sort of in the same room, but separated by a partition and unable to see him. It also felt silly trying to conduct a conversation while he was naked and I was still mostly dressed.

The only logical option was for me to also get naked, because I sure as hell didn’t want my angel to put any sort of clothes back on.

“I meant…” I started to say. Then I figured it would be easier and less awkward to just do it.

So, hoping he wouldn’t get impatient waiting for me, I slipped off my shoes, shoved my pants and underwear down, pulled them and my socks off, then yanked my t-shirt up and over my head. Now naked, I made my way across the room and around the negligible barrier of the fabric screens, my partially chubbed up dick jutting out and leading the way.

Except, once I passed the screens and entered his bedroom, I realized that my angel did have on more than just his stockings. Cupping his still stiff cock and balls, he wore a miniscule, thin, soft looking pair of underwear, which was such a pale shade of pink that it nearly matched the faintly flushed ivory of his skin.

“Oh, there you are, boo,” he said when he saw me, adding, “And you’re already hard again for me,” when his eyes dipped down to take in my dick. “Lucky me.”

No way. Uh uh. If anybody here was the lucky one, it was me.

I wasn’t achingly hard; my body was still humming with the aftereffects of the orgasm I’d had… 5 minutes ago? Definitely less than 10 minutes ago. I wasn’t the kind of guy who could go back-to-back-to-back. Honestly, I’d never needed to.

So, the fact that I was hard again, at all, and so soon…yeah, that was all down to the man here with me.

I waited to hear what he had in mind for us to do next. His tongue dipped out to swipe over his lips, causing my dick to twitch hopefully, even though I doubted he planned to blow me for a second time tonight.

Then he rolled over, onto his front, and my dick twitched hopefully for a whole other reason.

I also saw why, from behind, I’d thought he was naked beneath his sheer robe.

It wasn’t only that the color of his underwear blended in with his natural skin tone, although that was part of it. He was also wearing a thong—the band wrapping around his waist was almost nonexistently thin and it dipped low between his cheeks, leaving the beautiful bounty of his ass fully exposed and bare.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. He was so perfectly pretty that it made me want to whimper with want.

It also caused the doubts always niggling away in my brain to wonder what in the fuck he was doing with me. While I wasn’t revolting—my self-image wasn’t that low—my looks didn’t put me anywhere near the same level as him. On a scale of 1-to-10, I was a solid 5, I thought. Maybe a 6, for those that were into slightly chunky guys. But my angel…he not only exceeded the scale, he completely obliterated it.

I think I actually did whimper when he stated, “Since you’re such a good boy who got hard for me again, I want you to fuck me this time.”

He patted the bed near his head and I noticed he’d already set out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“You’ve already shown me what you can do under less-than-ideal circumstances,” he said, his voice pure sin that would’ve had me doing anything he wanted me to. “But now I want to know what you can do with a nice, big bed, no need to worry about being overheard or interrupted, and all the time in the world. Well, practically all the time in the world,” he amended. “At some point, we’ll need to eat. Or get some sleep before we have to head in to work on Monday. But that’s…” He released a satisfied sounding hum. “It’s still only Friday night. Late Friday night, but still, Friday. You could fuck me for hours, boo. Hours.”

Oh, fuck. I would…I would… Well, I’d try. Of course, I’d try, but…

“You could edge me over and over and over, boo. Fuck me and fuck me and fuck me. Get me so close to coming, drive me fucking wild until I’m begging you to get me there, then not let me come. And then do it all over again. And again. All. Night. Long.”

I wasn’t sure about driving him wild, but my angel was definitely doing a good job of driving me wild. And with only his voice, describing his fantasy of what he wanted me to do to him.

I was shaking. I was panting, my lungs struggling to draw in enough oxygen to feed all of the blood rushing to my dick. That part of my anatomy was fully on board with my angel’s plan; my brain wasn’t so sure.

Then he turned his head, looking over his shoulder at me, the full length of his body stretched out on his bed between us. Flashing me a cheeky wink, he cheerfully offered another alternative.

“Or…You could just fling me around my bed before you fuck me into my mattress. Make me come, hard and fast, like you did, so we’re all even. One good orgasm a piece for the both of us, before we rest up for round 3.”

I wanted to give him what he wanted. I always wanted to give him what he wanted; I just couldn’t tell from his tone which of those two he wanted more.

“Which, uh…which one would you rather…” I asked, selfishly hoping he’d tell me he wanted that section option more. It was the one I thought I had a better chance of successfully giving him.

Anticipation kept me on my metaphorical toes as he took a moment to think about it. My actual toes were planted firmly on the floor, practically digging into the hard, wooden surface to stop myself from fidgeting and shuffling my feet while I anxiously waited.

The delectable spread of his nearly nude body kept my arousal simmering, and my cock hard. But it wasn’t as difficult as I would’ve thought to tear my eyes off all of that nakedness and instead watch the thoughts flitting swiftly across his face.

His face was equally as stunning, anyway.

“It’s tempting… So, so tempting…” His teasing voice cooed the words so softly, I’d have thought they were only for his own ears, if not for the way his eyes flicked up to mine to make sure my attention was fully on him.

As if there’d be a chance in hell it would be anywhere else.

“So, so many things I want you to do to me, boo. Sooo many things. But…”

As if the word was some sort of trigger, he wiggled his ass, the middle section of his body writhing and shushing against the soft looking sheets.

“As lovely as a long, drawn-out fucking sounds,” he continued, drawing his plump lower lip in between his teeth and leaving it slick and shiny when he released it. “And as fantastic as it would be to hear the sounds I could get you to make for me, boo…” I nodded helplessly in agreement as he stated, “I have no doubt I could get you to make the most gorgeous noises.” Then I almost could’ve wept with joy and relief as he delivered his decision. “But I think it really only would be fair for you to get me off now. Not in a couple hours, after all sorts of edging and teasing, but now.”

While no actual tears escaped, my gratitude certainly did with an abundant flow of verbal babbling. “Yes. Yes, please. Whatever…whatever you want,” I gushed, scrambling onto the bed and nearly crashing my larger body into his. “I’ll please you. Fuck you and make you come,” I breathlessly promised. “Um, however you want. Thank you. Uh, thank you.”

My mind was a swirling mess. There was the low-level, constant disbelief and awe that a man as beautiful as this was letting me near him, touch him. There was the accompanying rush of lust and want over that exact same thing. And then, past all of that, there were the practicalities of this particular moment.

Yes, he’d said I should fuck him, but… What should I do first?

Should I take care of the condom situation, getting it open and rolled onto my dick, before falling onto my angel like a desperate, horny monster? Should I… Well, as almost nonexistent as his thong underwear was, it would have to be removed before things progressed too far. So, maybe I should deal with that first? And then fall on him in desperation.

Or maybe… He’d said he wanted me to fuck him now. Make him come now. But, surely, some sort of foreplay was in order before the actual fucking. Was he even… Would I need to prep him? Before all the needy, desperate fucking.

The previous two times he’d had me fuck him, he’d already been prepared well in advance. Both times, when he’d dropped his pants, his hole had already been slicked with lube and stretched out—with his own fingers or a toy—and ready for me to slide my dick right on inside of him. ‘Pre-gamed’ my angel had called it. Had he ‘pre-gamed’ tonight, or would I finally get the opportunity to get him ready myself?

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I used the word ‘now’, boo.”

Oh, fuck. How long had I been perched on the bed, kneeling near his feet, and letting my mind spin? Because, while he didn’t sound like he’d changed his mind, his words did come out a trifle annoyed sounding.

“Unless you don’t want to get me off and you’re going to make me do it myself.”

“No. Please… No. Fuck no,” I frantically replied. Not giving him what he wanted was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I raised my eyes to his, hoping he’d be able to read my complete willingness on my face, only to be met with a skeptical narrow-eyes expression on his own face.

I worried that, if anything was going to have him changing his mind, have him leaving this bed and booting me out of his house, it would be admitting that I was overcome by the abundance of all the options, now that I had the opportunity, of what I could do to him.

Now it was my turn to bite my lip, letting just a small amount of my nervousness show, as I asked, “Tell me what to do?”

His expression smoothed out, although faint wisps of doubt still clouded his pale eyes, as he answered my question with one of his own. “You want me… You want me to tell you what to do, boo? Like…step by step instructions?”

“Please.” My begging whimper revealed my relief that he’d understood my request. “Please. I don’t… I don’t want…”

“You really do like when I’m bossy,” he said. It wasn’t a question, just a purred gloat of satisfaction, but I nodded my head to answer him anyway. “I noticed you seemed to like that at the club. Obviously, I noticed that,” he stated, adding, “Your reactions when I did were not that subtle, boo.”

A puff of air escaped my nose in a soft snort as I expressed my agreement. He was right, I hadn’t been very subtle. Subtlety had never been one of my strong suits, and it was particularly nowhere to be found when I was around him.

His voice gentled, until it almost sounded like an auditory caress. “I just wasn’t sure if that was still something you’d like, something you’d want, when we’re…we’re…”

“Not in a public bathroom?” I finished. “In your house? Have a nice big bed at our disposal?”

“Yes. Those.”

“I want to…I need to… I want to give you what you want,” I told him, since it seemed as though he still didn’t understand, or believe, this thing that I’d told him several times already. “Whatever you want. However you want. So, I need… I need you to tell me what that is. Exactly. Step by step.”

He didn’t directly acknowledge this last thing I’d said, but a new awareness—a fine tension in his otherwise relaxed body—seemed to vibrate through him. And his voice became silkier, firmer, as he ordered, “Remove my panties, boo.”

My hand twitched, my own body eagerly leaping to obey the command in his voice, although it only got as far as his delicately turned ankle.

His skin was taut and warm, the heat of his easily penetrating through the thin, silky barrier of his stockings. The warmth of him, the realness of him, grounding me in this moment. Reassuring me that, yes, I was here, with him, and that all of this…everything that was about to happen was really happening.

Impatient that I wasn’t doing what he’d told me to as quickly as he’d like, or perhaps thinking I was opting to disobey him, he raised his voice and repeated, “Take my panties off, boo. Slide them down, all the way down my, until you can pull them off, then fling them who-the-fuck-cares-where.” He then barked out, “Now!” As if that weren’t enough, he added a threat to incentivize me. “If I have to do it myself, I’ll tell you to get off my bed, have you stand in the corner, and make you watch me get myself off.”

That warning was almost enough to actually have me intentionally disobeying him. Almost.

If I didn’t have this desperate need to always give him what he wanted. If I didn’t get a rush of satisfaction at doing what he said and being the one to please him. If I didn’t have a constant, aching want to have him moaning because of me. Panting, and pleading, and swearing, feeling so good, because of me.

Maybe some other time. Because it wouldn’t be now.

My hands flew up to the ridiculously narrow band holding his underwear in place, both of us moaning as my fingers slid beneath the delicate, silky fabric. They felt so fragile beneath my clunky, meaty fingers. I tugged at them gently, trying to pull them down without ripping them.

Of course, my angel had no such qualms. “More. Yank them off,” he instructed. “Tear them if you have to, boo. I have more.” He wriggled his ass again, which, ironically, aided me in inching them down his hips and over the sweet tautness of his ass, even as he continued to urge me to remove them by any means necessary. “Do it. Rip them off. Destroy my panties, boo. Then I can frame them and give them to you as a reminder.”

It was... Fuck, it was tempting. But I had managed to drag the underwear down his slender thighs without damaging them, and it was easy enough to continue pulling them down the rest of his legs, and over his narrow feet—his heeled slippers having been discarded somewhere in his bedroom. Holding them out past the edge of the bed, the underwear fluttered silently to the floor.

“Good, boo. Finally,” he said.

Creating some more space for me to fit between his legs, he drew his left knee up slightly, the lacy band at the top edge of his stocking lovingly cupping his thigh as it flexed.

“My apologies, boo. I’m afraid my mind didn’t let me think of anything past giving you the blow job I owed you.” His tone of voice remained firm and commanding, even while offering up words of remorse. “So, you’re going to have to get me ready to take your fat cock.”

He reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube that was sitting on the dark plum-colored sheets, near his shoulder. The angle was awkward, his arm extended and twisted behind his back, and we both watched as the bottle bounced off my stomach after he lobbed it at me.

A gentle snort of air preceded his next order. “Get your fingers nice and wet for me, boo. Err on the side of too much. By the time you’re done opening me up with your fingers, I want my ass to be drenched and dripping. An open, soaked hole, so you can slide that thick dick all the way in until you’re balls deep.”

“Fuck,” I moaned softly, the mental picture he’d painted practically negating the physical relief of my earlier orgasm. Once more, my dick was hard and aching, desperate and needy for him.

Before reaching for the bottle, I allowed myself one small, brief detour—trailing my fingertips along his stocking-clad thighs before my fingers were all sticky with lube.

The dark material contrasted sharply against the pale, milky white color of his skin. But the smooth, silky texture blended almost seamlessly with the soft, satiny feel of his skin above the top of the stockings.

I kept my touch to the softest of whispers, not wanting to accidentally snag or damage the gauzy, delicate things. From just above his knee, over the softly nubby texture of the lacy, elastic band, and along to just below the sweet curve of his ass, I lightly ran my fingertips up the back of my angel’s thighs. Avidly, I observed the trail of goosebumps left behind and the faint tremble my touch caused.

But I only let myself take that one, fleeting caress. Then I turned my attention to the task at hand—the instructions he’d laid out for me.

After bouncing off my stomach, the bottle of lube had landed in between my partially splayed thighs. I snatched it up and only fumbled it for a moment before I was able to get the cap open. Drizzling a fair amount of the sticky fluid on my fingers, I scooted farther forward, into the space he’d left for me between his spread legs.

The momentary delay had given the lube the chance to warm up, but the first swipe of my slicked fingers to his tightly furled hole made him shiver.

“That’s it, boo. Just like that,” he said, his voice coming out breathless and shuddery. “Get it…Get it all wet. Wet and open for your cock.”

Now I was the one trembling. The view of my fingers smearing lube on his tiny, pink hole, making it slick and glistening, was awe inspiring.

I pressed forward with one thick finger. And while, obviously, I knew he could take more, his opening looked so small and tight, I was still amazed when my finger easily slid in, all the way to the second knuckle on that first pass.

“Oh shit. So hot,” I helplessly muttered, although I’m not sure if my comment was for the physical temperature of his channel, or the view, or the feel of him snugly gripping my finger, or…or…all of it. It was all fucking hot.

“Mmhmm. Keep going,” was his next command. “One finger’s not going to do it. Not for as fucking thick as you’re cock is. Gimme another, boo. Now.”

Reluctant to lose the feel of his channel around my finger, I nonetheless did as I was told. Withdrawing the singular digit, when I pressed in again, it was with my middle and index finger.

It was a tighter fit with two fingers, but his hole still stretched easily enough and soon I was thrusting in and out, fucking him with my fingers, getting his channel slick with lube and loosening up his opening.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I commented, loving the way his hole was clamped around my fingers.

His hips had been raising and lowering to meet the plunging of my fingers, but now he shifted his body back so that his knees were curled up under him and his ass was sticking up into the air.

“My toys and I would beg to differ,” he said, huffing a short laugh. “Now give me three, boo. Three fingers. Just for a little bit. Then I’m going to want that dick. That fat, fat dick.”

I pulled my fingers out, then squeezed some more lube onto my hand. Once it was warmed up again, I settled the tips of three fingers at his softened opening. I waited for a second, just to see if he would change his mind. But when he didn’t, I nudged them in, twisting and wiggling them until his channel let me sink them to the first knuckle.

I don’t know if his heart was beating as fast as mine, but our breaths were a matching symphony of pants and gasps.

“More. Give me fucking more, dammit,” he demanded, in between those ragged breaths. “Fuck me with your fingers. Hard and fast. Same way I’m gonna have you do with your cock.”

Figuring he knew his body better than I did, I went ahead and pushed and pushed, until those three fingers were sunk as deep inside his hole as I could get them. Then I pulled them back, until only the tips remained inside of him, then shoved them back into him. Assertive and hard.

“Yesss… Yes, boo.”

“More? Like that?” I asked, seeking additional confirmation that I was doing exactly what he wanted.

I was still going, still firmly fucking him with three fingers. And his ass was slamming back to meet each strong shove. But I was still relieved to hear him say, whimpering and nearly sobbing, “Yes. Fuck yes.”

The ‘little bit’ he’d said that he wanted me to finger him with three fingers had definitely elapsed, although I’m not sure how long I spent driving those fingers in and out of him, scissoring and twisting them as I went to help loosen him up, by the time he gasped out, “Enough. That’s… I’m good. I’m ready.”

It had certainly been enough time for my dick to weep enough pre-cum to create a decent-sized watch patch on his purple sheets.

My exclamation, “Fuck. The condom,” neatly overlayed his demand of “Condom. Get the condom on. Now,” as we both seemed to realize at the same time that we’d been so caught up in my fingering him that we’d forgotten to attend to the necessity of sheathing my dick.

The last place I’d seen the condom packet he’d set out was over by his left shoulder, right near where the lube had been before he’d lobbed it at me. So, I laid my body over his and reached my arm out, patting the bed with my hand in search of the foil square.

Stretched out over him, my bare cock rubbed against the smooth, firm swell of his ass. It felt so good I had to groan. I groaned again, as did he, when he wiggled his ass to increase the friction of my dick against him. It almost made me wish that I could keep rubbing and rubbing and rubbing my dick on him until I’d come, and then I’d unload spurt after spurt of cum onto his soft, luscious skin.

But since that wasn’t what he’d asked for, I tabled that fantasy for another time and continued searching for the elusive condom.

I finally found it, tangled up in a fold in the sheet. Unfortunately, I had to make a little bit of room between my hard dick and his gyrating backside so that I could have enough space to put the condom on.

I think both of us were feeling pretty impatient about the necessary pause in the proceedings, but he was the only one who expressed that impatience out loud. “For fuck’s sake, boo. Are you done yet? How long does it take to— Oooh .” His words cut out on a sigh and a heartfeltly moaned “ Yes ,” when he felt the tip of my covered cock pressing against his opening.

He was still tight around my dick as I slid into him in incremental pulses, little by little at a time, until I was all the way in and my hips were flush with his ass. My hands settled onto the slender, slightly bony, curve of his hips as I gave a few, experimental, soft thrusts.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise when those soft thrusts were met with a demand of “harder, boo. For fuck’s sake, harder.”

Tightening the grip I had on his hips, I pulled my hips back, until the head of my cock was just barely resting inside his channel, then I snapped them forward, shoving my dick back in hard, the way he wanted.

The momentum jolted his body forward and I had to increase the hold I had on him even more. So much so, that a faint worry sounded in my head telling me that I was probably going to leave marks on him.

If I did, and if he was bothered by them, I’d just have to point out that he seemed to enjoy the activity that led to those marks, if the near-constant refrain of “Yes. Yes. Oh, fuck yes,” that he was moaning was any indication.

While he was busy with the lyrics he was composing to accompany our fucking, I was adding some words to my own melody. Mine was something closer to the tune of “Oh fuck. Angel. My angel. Oh my fuck.”

So, pretty much as equally profanity laden as what he was saying, but infinitely more embarrassing if he happened to actually be paying attention to what was coming out of my mouth. I could only hope that he didn’t, because I had no hope of actually stopping myself from moaning my endearment for him.

Over and over and over, I pounded my cock into him. And over and over and over, he rode his ass backward, fucking himself on my dick. All of it accompanied by the rhythmic groan of his bed frame, the slapping smack of my hips meeting his ass, the deep, heavy rasping of our breathing, and the repeated, desperate mumbling of our passionate calls.

In and out, in and out. Hard and without hesitation, I fucked him just how he wanted. Over and over.

My dick was a throbbing, aching rod inside his ass and my balls felt full and tight. I wanted to come. I needed to come.

Fuck, I needed to come.

But I wanted to hold out. He’d already gotten me off once tonight; I didn’t want to come until he came. I just wasn’t sure if I was actually going to make it.

About the time I was seriously worried I’d have to concede that I wasn’t going to be able to hold out, I felt his right hand scrabbling at mine, where it was firmly clenched around his hip.

He dragged my hand off his hip, saying, “Touch me. I need you to touch me. Jerk me off, boo. Make me come,” as he then pulled it around his body and directed it toward his cock.

“Yes. Anything. Want you to come,” I answered.

The noise he made when my hand wrapped around his hard cock almost sounded pained. But the words he sobbed, “Yes. That’s it. Make me come, boo,” told me he wasn’t in pain at all. Not the unwelcome sort of pain, anyway.

His cockhead was slick and wet with pre-cum, so I ran my hand over the rounded end, collecting the sticky moisture on my palm and smearing it down the length of his shaft to ease the glide of my fist.

Long and slender, his dick felt perfect, like it belonged in the tight grip of my hand. I fisted his length, up and down, firmly and quickly to match how I was thrusting into his ass.

“Yes. Oh fuck, yes,” he gasped. “A little more, boo, and I’m gonna come. I’m about to come so hard, boo. You’re fucking me so good with your fat cock, and you’re jerking my dick… ungh …just…just… Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

My overheated, sweat-drenched body flushed even hotter. Pleasing him and getting him off was even better than orgasming myself. And hearing the trembling, stuttered compliments that tumbled from his lips, his voice deeper and raspier than normal, was a rush like no other.

“Me too,” I said. “Fuck, me too.”

Having already come once, my stamina really should’ve been better. But his hole was so hot, so tight, so magnificently fitted around my dick, that my balls were ready to unleash.

“More, more, more. C’mon, give it to me. More,” he begged. “Want it. Need it.”

Throwing the entire weight of his slim body backward, he impaled himself on my dick, over and over, forcing me to drive into him as far as I could.

The only warning I had that he was coming was the sudden fierce spasm of his channel clamping down around my dick. A split second later, my hand was flooded with a gushing pool of cum. A moment after that was when my angel let out a long, loud warbling wail as his cock volleyed a second and third blast of cum.

The motion of my hips stuttered as his orgasm prompted my balls to tighten up even further and throb with the signal that I was about to come in 3…2…

I rammed my dick deep inside his ass one more time as it began pulsing, cum rapidly spurting from my slit, filling the condom.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh shit fucking damn fuck shit.”

Moaning a litany of profanity, I jerkily thrust my cock into him as my orgasm swept through me. His hole was a tight vise around my length, squeezing and milking me for each and every single drop of cum that my poor relieved balls were willing to give up.

I wasn’t ready to leave the warm, snug embrace of his channel, wallowing in the happy chemicals released in my brain from an outstanding orgasm. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a choice, as my angel shifted his weight forward and slid himself off my sated dick.

Gracefully rolling himself onto his back and arranging his limbs so that he was comfortable, he languidly commented, “Mmm, hot damn that was a good fuck.”

Most of his cum had ended up in my hand or splattered in uneven arcs on the sheet below him. But some of it had splashed on him, and I watched, fascinated, as he trailed his fingers over his stomach and rubbed those white, creamy splotches into his skin.

“I wish I could credit myself with frequently having good ideas, but I can’t,” he said. “Still…I think we can both agree that moving our interlude to somewhere more private was a truly stellar idea. Don’t you think, boo?” Seemingly not paying attention to the nod I gave in agreement, he continued, “Not only did I get to suck you off without getting my clothes all grimy, we didn’t have to rush and we were able to get a round 2 in.” He made a happy humming sound as he congratulated himself again. “Yep, definitely one of my better ideas.”

His eyes leisurely scanned my naked body and I realized what I must look like, kneeling on his bed, a floppy, filled condom dangling from my dick. I quickly pulled it off, knotted it closed, and, with a grimace of apology and a mental note to myself to take care of it later, I dropped it onto the floor next to his bed.

And then I sat back on my heels, the hairy fuzz on my butt a ticklish, minor annoyance, as I waited to find out if I was about to be summarily sent on my way now that the sex was over. I would be disappointed, but not surprised, if that was the case.

But instead of reminding me that I knew where the door was and teasingly commanding me to not leave any of my clothing behind, my angel slowly extended one of his arms out to the side. “Well, come on then, boo,” he said. “Don’t just sit there like a big slab of cuddly man-cub, come here. Come on. Wedge yourself on in close.”

His eyes flitted down, focusing somewhere near my knees, as if he didn’t want to look at my face to see my reaction to, what was clearly, his invitation to cuddle. I couldn’t be sure, but it also appeared as though he was holding his breath as he waited to see what I would do.

I wished he had been looking at my face. He would’ve seen that, as soon as those words left his mouth, there was no hesitation or decision-making to be had on my end.

Eyeing up the space he’d left for me, I realized that I would end up lying directly on top of the wet patch his cum had left on the sheet. Not ideal, but the discomfort would be worth it in order to snuggle up close to him for as long as he’d allow.

Bracing my right hand on the bed, I repositioned myself until I was laying on my side, my body stretched out alongside his. Tentatively, I settled my head on the bony jut of his shoulder, draping my left arm across his stomach.

Almost immediately, his right hand came up and he began lightly sifting his fingers through the layer of hair covering my forearm. His voice was mellow and content sounding as he stated, “See, this is nice. Silly boo, sitting all the way over there. Did you think I was going to bite or something?”

Well, no, no biting. I had thought he was going to kick me out before the cum even had a chance to dry, though. Politely, sure. But kick me out, all the same.

But I didn’t want to give him any ideas, if that particular urge hadn’t occurred to him. So, I only offered up a noncommittal hum.

“Nope, no biting here.” There was a brief pause, his fingers continuing to meander random trails through my arm hair. Then he added, “Well…maybe some biting. If you give me a little bit of time to recover from the nut-draining fucking you just unleashed on me. Tomorrow’s only Sunday; we both have some time to rest and recover before heading into work on Monday if we want to go for round 3.”

He walked his fingers up my arm and over the chunky bulge of my biceps, then traipsing along the line of my collar bone until the settled just beneath my chin. He nudged my head up so that our eyes met, asking, “What do you think, boo? A third round sound good?”

I idly wondered at what point he would stop asking me these kinds of questions. Because I was always going to give him the same answer. Every. Time.

“Whatever you want. Anything you want.”