Page 58 of Commitment Issues
“You poor old boy, haven’t got the strength to support your own weight?”
“Screw you.” I shove him on his back, doing my best to sound gruff and outraged through my smile.
“Yes please,” Freddie says, laughing.
I push his legs high and wide, ready to wipe that laughter from his lips, as I raise myself to my knees between his spread legs, and I line my cock against his hole once more, before I squeeze myself into him, thrusting forward harder and deeper, bottoming out in his hot, tight heat.
“Not laughing now? Hmm?”
Hitching his legs higher, I hook them over my shoulders so his calves press into me. His arse cants so far up it hovers a handful of inches above the bed. My heart thunders as I piston into him, almost pulling back out before thrusting back in, harder with every snap of my hips. My cock disappears into his arse, the slap of skin on skin, grunts and moans and ragged, heated breaths, and all the time, Freddie panting my name over and over. I ram myself into him harder and faster, sweat dripping from my brow, into my eyes, making them sting and burn, and all the time Freddie crying my name.
His dick, dripping precum, slaps against his stomach and smears his skin, and I wrap him in my hand, slather his juice along his length, feeling his heat as he fucks into the tunnel of my fist as I fuck into the tunnel of his arse.
“Not gonna last, not gonna last,” he grinds out, whipping his head from side to side as he begins to unravel like a ball of wool. He thickens in my hand as I jack him harder and faster, in time to the frantic, manic pace of my hips. His thrusts become erratic jerks before his hips stiffen as hot slippery cum explodes from him, coating us both, pulse after pulse after pulse.
Freddie’s orgasm is the starting pistol for my own. Heat rises in me, spreading out from deep in my belly, searing through my groin and I cry out as I pump my climax into the condom buried deep within him.
“Jesus,” I grunt, letting my head drop forward.
My breath’s coming in deep gulpy gasps, my chest’s burning and my limbs are quivering as though I’ve sprinted a marathon. Already deflating, my dick slips from Freddie’s hot, tight arse, as at the same time his ankles slide from my shoulders.
I wipe a shaking hand across my brow, my heart beating out a wild and dangerous rhythm. Freddie’s sprawled, dazed and sweat-soaked, and covered in his own cum. At some point the storm’s passed, leaving the sky clear. Bright moonlight fills the room, and all I can do is lie still, and gaze into his soft, unfocused eyes. And then he smiles, that shy smile that gets me every time.
Running a finger through the sticky wetness, he presses it to my lips and I close my eyes as I suck hard, drinking down his release before I lower my head and with steady, regular, even swipes of my tongue, I lick him clean.
“Do you reckon we can have that cuppa now?” Freddie’s voice is sex-rough, but there’s soft laughter there too, as he slips his fingers through my hair.
I rest my cheek on his stomach and revel in his touch.
“Soon,” I say, my words as bone weary as my body. “I’ll race you to put the kettle on… might even be a packet of custard creams…” My words drift into nothing as I surrender myself to sleep.
