Amy Lane
heavy, and that"s what Xander was doing now. Taking over for Chris, so
he didn"t even have to think, didn"t have to do, just had to lie back and
feel.
So Chris was lying back, his thighs spread, his heavy cock in his
hand, stroking it slowly, and squeezing it so hard the head was painfully
purple. Xander had his hands under Chris"s ass, raising it to his mouth,
so he could tongue Chris"s (freshly washed) body until it was loose and
sloppy and waiting.
Chris raised his free hand to his mouth and bit down on it, loosing a
long, drawn-out groan, as Xander replaced his tongue with his fingers,
and then Chris pulled Xander"s hand away and ordered,“Now, Xander,
now!”in his fiercest whisper. Xander was up and inside of him so
quickly the bed didn"t even have time to squeak. One of his feet was
down on the floor, and his other knee was drawn up underneath him, and
Chris"s thighs were slung over his shoulders as he thrust hard and thrust
quickly, watching in wonder as Chris"s eyes rolled back and his body
shuddered, and an arc of come shot over his belly. His hair was cut short,
and had been since they"d arrived, and his shoulders had widened, his
chest had become bulkier, and his muscles were the kind of thing you"d
see in body-building magazines. But his chin was still narrow, and his
eyes, even half-hooded in passion, were still depthless and limpid.
He looked beautiful.
As Chris shuddered around him, Xander came, too, slowly and
with intensity, before he collapsed forward, panting into Chris"s
shoulder.
They were so much better at this than they had been at the
beginning of the summer. Five months of it—even furtively—gave them
some comfort, some ease, and Xander kissed Chris"s ear and found his
mouth for a long, lazy kiss of afterglow. Chris fell away from him and