Page 74 of Roleplay at Randy's
If he’s going to stay this sexy, Matty can just live naked in my bed for the rest of forever, because something tells me we’re going to be jumping each other like bunnies.
With my dick coated in enough lube that I’m definitely going to have to change the sheets when we’re done, I drag the tip along his opening. It gives at the slightest pressure, and then I’m engulfed in a tight, wet heat that has me so close to coming I have to grip the base to a painful degree to stave it off.
Matty reaches a hand beneath us to feel where we connect, and my cock pulses inside him in response to the touch. His hips rock back, taking me deeper, making him moan into the pillow.
I love the way he sounds, how it feels to be surrounded by his heat while he rolls my balls in his palm. We’re working me in slowly, but I can tell by the tightness in his shoulders that he’s holding back.
He did say he wanted it rough …
With a sharp breath in, steeling myself for the wave of endorphins about to overwhelm me, I pull out until only the tip is left inside and thrust my cock back in with one, quick movement. Stars of all shapes and sizes explode behind my eyes. Matty’s body jolts forward; I hear his muffled shout into the pillow, and I don’t give either of us time to recover.
My hips smack against his ass in a repeated assault that turns his skin scarlet. The feel of being inside of him is a cataclysmic event, world shattering and world building all in one. Every single one of his sounds—the squeaky breaths, the deep moans, the shallow cries—are all committed to memory.
I drag my hand along his back, feeling each notch of hisspine with my fingers, until I get to his nape. He shutters as I rake my nails up into his hairline, and the moment my fingers close, gripping his hair at the root, he gasps my name.
His back bows as I tug, and the way his hole tightens around me as I twist my fingers in his hair, not pulling hard but enough to make a whimper fall from his lips, it cements my unbridled desire.
“Harder, Lee,” he cries out hoarsely. “Fuck. Your balls keep hitting my dick and it hurts so bad but feels so good. Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Matty’s body is like a vice, holding me captive and spurring me forward. I need leverage to get deeper, to give him what he’s asking for, and my focus narrows on the grip I have on him.
“Are you okay with me holding you down?”
He doesn’t dignify me with a verbal response, just lowers his face to the pillow, picks up the pace, and tightens around me in a heavenly rhythmic motion.
Message received.
Making sure I’m not holding too hard, I shift my weight to put pressure on his head where I hold, resting my other hand on the mattress beside him. The angle changes, hits somewhere deep inside, and he howls into the pillow.
He isn’t even helping anymore, body still as he takes every rough pitch of my hips. His face is turned to the side so he can breathe, but it also means—as the orgasm builds at the base of my dick—I hear the first tell-tale sign of a sob as his cries ramp up.
I let go of him but don’t stop pounding, chasing my release, and that’s when his composure slips. Matty chokes on a slew of tears, every visible muscle tensing tight, hole strangling my dick so hard the pressure in my groin halts, and then he thrusts a hand between his legs.
My balls smack his knuckles as he tugs and strokes his cock, and his orgasm takes him like a dam breaking. A rush of warm fluid surrounds my cock, walls pulsing around me; his sweet little cries turn into sobs of my name on repeat.
I stop chasing, instead giving slow and shallow thrusts, ready to retreat if the friction is too much. As he calms, panting heavy into his arms, I pull out to the tip again. I’m prepared to jerk myself over the edge, just feeling his heat around the head of my dick, but Matty pushes himself to his knees and forces me back in to the hilt.
His body is an inferno, lighting me up and stoking my arousal. He presses his back to my chest and turns to pepper kisses along my cheek and jaw. “Fuck no. I’m not done with you.”
If I thought he was too tired or weak from the orgasm, I’d be wrong. Matty’s body is resilient, fucking himself on my cock with an arm looped around my neck and the other leveraging his weight on his thighs.
“Matty.”
He huffs through a set of oversensitive whines. “Tell me you want me to stop.”
The man knows damn well I can’t tell him that, and as his moans grow louder, making me clamp a hand over his mouth, I know I’m in for a long night.
I've losttrack of how many times Matty has come. Squeezing my cock. Soaking it. Crying out his release. He doesn't let me stop for long, urges me to fuck him harder, faster. He's insatiable, and I want to give him everything.
Bless my erotic dancing for giving me the stamina put up with an outright fuckfest with the man beside me.
We’re both on our sides with Matty’s back tucked to my front as I move inside of him in slow, measured pumps. Right now it’s not about either of us getting off, just about catching our breath and staying close to one another.
I kiss the side of his neck, one arm lying loosely around his waist, the other brushing slow fingers through the wisps of hair splayed along our pillow.
“You feeling alright, sweetheart?” We slowed down a few minutes ago, and I think he might be well and truly done this time, but I’m enjoying the soft moment and the low, pleasured hums he makes when I sink back inside him.
“Perfect, baby,” he mumbles, turning his face to rub his nose under my chin. I chuckle, and he sighs contently. “‘M tired.”
