Page 23 of Homestead

“Yeah.” I have no way of determining what I like, but this feels just fine to me. Vulnerable. Exposed. But it’s still dark in the room, and it’s mostly comfortable except for some stretching of my stomach muscles. “This is good.”

He shifts my weight to only one of his hands and uses his other to feel for my entrance again, then hold his cock in place until the tip of it is pushing in.

It’s tight almost immediately, even more so as he penetrates more deeply.

I’ve imagined having sex a thousand times, fueled primarily by novels I’ve read, and because I had no real frame of reference, I always visualized something huge and overwhelming forcing its way into my body with searing pain.

Jimmy feels big. No question about that. And there’s not a lot of room for him inside me. But it doesn’t actually hurt. It aches. Stretches. I make more of those silly, embarrassing sounds as he slowly fits himself inside me, pulling out and pushing in again a couple of times at slightly different angles.

When he’s in all the way, he stays still, holding on to my ass with both hands.

“Jesus Christ,” he says in an extended hiss.

That sounds like it’s good. I hope so.

I have to fight the instinct to writhe. I clutch at the sheets beneath me and try to slow my breathing.

“This hurtin’ you or anythin’?” he asks hoarsely after a minute.

“No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“You likin’ it?” It seems like he’s trying to peer through the darkness to see my face.

“Yeah. I’m liking it. You can keep going.”

I’m not sure if I like it, but I definitely don’t hate it. I’m not sure about anything. It’s just so much. So intense. Like everything I’ve always kept safe inside me has suddenly been exposed.

Jimmy starts to pump his hips, moving his cock inside me. It’s a slow, steady tempo at first. He doesn’t pull out very far. The motion works to stretch and soften my pussy, so it’s more comfortable as he continues.

I watch him as he works his hips. I wish I could see his expression more clearly, but from the angle of his face, his gaze is moving up and down my body—from my face to my breasts (which are jiggling from the motion) and down to where he’s moving in and out of me.

Maybe he likes the look of it. I hope he does. I hope I’m doing okay and giving him what he wants.

After a few minutes, his rhythm accelerates. His grip tightens on the soft flesh of my ass. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m not gonna last very long.”

All the friction and shaking have started having an effect. I feel that deep coil of pleasure again. The one that swells and swells and then explodes. I’ve started making those whimpering sounds at a regular interval, paired with his thrusting inside me.

His body jerks unexpectedly, and he speeds up even more, pushing into me even harder.

It’s not exactly comfortable. It’s more achy than ever. But something inside me wants it. Wants it bad. I make a loud sound as the pleasure mounts even more.

Then, before I know what’s happening, he’s suddenly pulling his cock out and letting go of me with one hand so he can squeeze it.

He makes loud, rough sounds as he comes, spurting onto my belly as he works through his climax.

I’m startled and shaky and still throbbing between my legs as he lowers me back to the bed, gasping loudly as he collapses beside me.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry ’bout that.”

“About what?”

“Came before you did.” He sounds surprised as he rolls on his side to face me. “Seemed like you might’ve been getting there again.”

“Oh. I was okay.” He’s right. I do feel wiggly and unsatisfied, but I’m not about to complain.

I already had one orgasm, and nothing about what happened was bad for me.

He reaches over to stroke his hand over my breast and belly, then moves it lower, parting my outer folds so he can find my clit again. He rubs it like he did before.

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