Page 116 of Shroom for Improvement

He seized them and knotted them together with his discarded tie. Then he guided me on my knees—like a rider pulling a horse—up the bed, knotting the other end to the headboard. I folded onto the mattress, my head pillowed on myarms, my knees underneath me, my ass in the air. I rolled my hips, whining when the plug rocked inside me.

Apparently satisfied with a job well done, Claude moved onto the bed behind me. His fingers traced lightly up my thighs.

Okay, coming without touching my dick was looking less like a remote possibility and a lot more like an inevitability.

The anticipation alone had me dangling alarmingly close to the edge already.

Claude snaked one hand around my hip. The other found purchase on the end of the plug. He tugged it gently, experimentally, and my body responded without instruction from my brain, clamping down on it before he removed it all the way.

“Relax. I’m not going to take it out until I’m ready to fuck you,” he said. But despite this, he pulled it hard enough that the rounded bottom of the bulb popped out. Lube oozed from my hole and dripped down my balls.

Claude eased the plug back in, and I whined.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

He pulled it out again and pushed it in, and repeated. Continued this assault for gods knew how long—a minute, an hour, half a century. He was mostly silent, except for the occasional throaty groan, but even if he had been speaking I wouldn’t have heard anything over the blood roaring in my ears, the trembling of my own body.

I couldn’t move my head, but from the moans he made and the rocking of his body, I knew Claude was fucking his hand. It was the single hottest moment of my life.

I needed more, though. Needed to be fuller. Filled up by him.

And then all I felt was emptiness, as he took the plug away entirely. He replaced it immediately with something much softer and warmer.

Claude’s lips and tongue danced around my entrance, so teasing and gentle, before dipping inside me. Instead of being fucked with the plug, I was being caressed. Lovingly. It made my heart feel stupid and weird.

“I’m gonna... just need to...” Claude said, stopping his ministrations. A slight rustling told me he was unwrapping a condom and rolling it on himself. Then the squelch of the lube as he slicked himself up. The mattress bounced. His hand grabbed frantically at my hip.

I mustered the strength to look over my shoulder. Claude’s face glistened with sweat and lube and his own saliva. His hair stuck out at odd angles. His cock was in his hand.

“I can’t wait any longer, Sonny. Need to... fuck you now... right now,” he said.

My cock ached. Throbbing and painful and furious at the lack of attention. I was loving every second of it.

“Are you ready for me?” He nudged at my hole with the head of his cock, evidently forgetting my request to “not be polite and take whatever he wanted from me.”

“Yes. Please. Fuck me, I can’t... need it so bad.”

Gently—as gently as a man of his size could be—he sunk into me. Pushing and pausing and pushing again. Crying out. Cursing. Testing my tolerance bit by bit before sheathing himself entirely.

I couldn’t lie. It fucking hurt. Tears streamed down my face. I buried it in the pillow and yelled through gritted teeth. But Claude waited for me, didn’t move before I was ready. A fucking gentleman.

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” he said, his voice strained, like it was taking everything for him to hold back.

I nodded. Couldn’t formulate real words. But the pain was subsiding, the stretch more than bearable. Now I needed him to rock. I needed to be fucked, and fucked hard.

I couldn’t tell him because speaking was not an option, so I rolled my ass to show him he could move.

“Fuck, Sonny, you’re amazing.” He looped his hands around my hips and pulled out slowly. Pushed in again. Harder this time. Faster. Until his pace built and built and he was fucking me into the mattress.

He snatched a throw cushion and shoved it under my waist. His hands grabbed at my flesh, my hips, my shoulders, my hair.

All I could manage was the smallest rocking of my hips to steal the teeniest amount of friction. Essentially fucking the cushion. My stomach was slick with precum. I gripped the tie as though it was my only tether to the moment. As though the second I let go, it would all be over.

But it would be over soon, anyway. I was so close to that edge, Claude’s cock hitting that exact spot over and over and over. Driving me little by little to the point of falling head first. My legs were numb, my whole body shaking, stomach muscles screaming from holding back.

“Claude, I’m—oh, gods, I’m—”

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Break for me. Let me watch you come.”

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