Page 66 of Maybe
“Forget that right now, Isaac. The guy was doing it wrong if he made you feel that way. I could degrade someone with a kiss if I put my mind to it, not that I ever would. Or I can call the shots from the bottom. Listen, I’ve been fucked plenty of times. Having a big horny bloke begging to pound me feels about as masculine as it gets.”
Isaac gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not you, though. You’re gorgeous, and you know it. You can dictate how you want things.”
“Yes… but… Isaac.” I kissed his worried face. “Good sex isn’t about what goes where. It’s about how someone makes you feel. Both during and afterwards. Especially afterwards.”
And I’d make Isaac feel like a God, or die trying.
I triple checked the door, turned up the volume on the baby monitor, then laid down a towel. My dick was still hard and throbbing, a testament to how fucking gorgeous Isaac looked, naked on the bed, waiting for me. We kissed awhile. Then I fondled his balls, cradling the weight of them, rolling one ever so tenderly between finger and thumb. As I did, I talked to him. Nonsense really, but at least it chilled him out and got him back in the mood.
When his dick plumped up again, leaking, I sent an inquisitive finger on a fishing trip behind. Isaac raised his knee higher with a pleasured sigh to give me more room, then squirmed and flung his arm across his eyes.
“Hey, none of that.” Gently, I pulled his arm away. “I want to look at you.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not. It’s sex, and it’s good. Relax, babe.”
I began gently with one probing finger, kneeling between his open thighs. When I added another, never taking my eyes from his, Isaac made a satisfied sound and raised his other knee. My dick pulsed as I reached for more lube. If I’d been waiting for a green light, Isaac had switched it on.
“Fuck, that feels nice.” He giggled, unexpectedly, his cheeks flushed. “What would you do if I asked you to stop?”
I laughed too. No way was that happening; he was enjoying it too much, if the trail of wetness puddled on his belly was any measure. The boy was born to bottom; he simply hadn’t metanyone who knew how to worship him properly. “I’d stop, of course.”
A sweet moan slipped through his parted lips. Loose limbed and flushed, his thighs flopped open. “I don’t want you to, Ez. This might be my new raison d’etre.”
I put on a condom, loving the way he eyed my dick, picturing how amazing it would appear surrounded by the curly tail hairs protecting his fuzzy hole. Loving how his solid thighs were going to clamp around my hips.
“At your pace,” I promised, adding extra lube to pretty much every living surface within reach. I settled over him, lining myself up, and his hands gripped my shoulders.
“Hold your knees back instead, just at the start. It makes it easier.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. He was open and lax, and my tip was inside him; it took every ounce of willpower not to plunge deeper. Isaac bit his lip and tensed. I pulled back out again, then eased back in a little.
“Slower? Like this?”
“Yeah. Just… yeah.” He hissed and screwed up his face.
“You don’t have to Isaac, if you’re not ready.”
“I do.” He hissed again as I advanced a millimetre before blowing out a relieved puff of air. He’d have a row of red welts tomorrow on the backs of his thighs, from where his fingertips dug into them. “Yes…yes. Exactly. Out a bit, then in a bit. Like that.”
“Excellent.” Dancing the hokey cokey around his open hole, one step forward two steps back, was a whole new level of sadomasochistic torture I had no idea existed.
“Stop there,” he gasped. I hovered in place, mentally reciting the chords to the last thing I’d played.Eruption, a complicatedVan Halen track. Apt, seeing as I was about to have one of my own.
“Now go again. Yeah… that’s…”
Isaac’s dick perked up; we were making progress. And he was talking, which was good, telling me how he felt, telling me when to pause, dictating the depth. And then he made me withdraw to apply more lube, even though I reckoned my dick was producing enough of its own to grease a bloody car engine. His earlier embarrassment was nowhere to be seen.
As I settled between his legs again, I brushed my lips against his ear. “I’m not trying to shuffle things along, babe, but I reckon by morning I’ll either be the whole way in or have expired with the effort.”
He giggled. “A snail’s pace is still progress, right?”
Lifting his head, he glanced down at where we were still joined, but only by a couple of inches, then smiled back up at me. If he wasn’t my Isaac, I’d imagine he was doing it on purpose.
“Yeah,” I managed. His head flopped back, and with it, he thrust up. Something gave, he relaxed around me, and, as he blew out a breath, I slipped in deeper. Then snorted into his neck.
