Page 10 of Cyrus
He falls forward. His chest presses against my back. His length deep inside my walls. Tensing. Spurting. Filling me up with its precious come.
I reach back and massage his balls.
He likes that.
He likes it a lot.
“Oh, baby,” he moans, turning my face with his hand so he can kiss me as the final throws of passion linger between our legs. “I’m so fucking happy I met you.”
I roll onto my back and clean the mess between my legs with a big black piece of cloth that appears to be Cyrus's t-shirt.
It doesn't matter. He's not going to be needing it anytime soon.
Cyrus puts an arm around my neck and we lay there, silent. Our chests rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. Like we’re the same person in two different bodies.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” I say. Thinking out loud without really realizing I was talking.
He kisses me on the side of the face. The stubble around his mouth tickles and scratches my skin.
His hand reaches down between my legs and he starts to massage my slit.
“Oh yeah?” he grins, “you ain't seen nothing yet."
