Page 2 of Husband of the Year
“Olan?”
“Yeah?”
His fingers comb through my curls.
“Can I ride you?”
He chuckles. The sweat on his brow glistens under the sunlight coming from the window, and I’m grateful for a room on the top floor overlooking the private beach. We haven’t closed the curtains once, and there’s something magical about sleeping and fucking with the waves crashing outside.
“Of course. Whatever you want.” Olan rolls over and puts his hands behind his head. He’s simply getting comfortable, but as his muscles flex and I stare for a moment, once again in awe that I get to spend my life with someone so beautiful—inside and out.
Olan reaches down and pushes his cock, thick and hard, so it’sstanding straight up. I’m not sure if he’s admiring it himself, putting on a show for me, or a bit of both, but my eyes are certainly enjoying the show.
“Like what you see?” he asks as he wiggles his eyebrows.
The words should make me cringe, but they don’t. Because coming from Olan, with his sweet soul and kind heart, everything comes off as completely sincere.
I nod and take over, holding his dick up. It’s still slick with lube, but I take the intermission as an opportunity to apply more to both of us.
“Never enough,” he says, repeating our little inside joke.
And he’s right. The more we use, the more unhinged we become. Because when everything is greased up, the experience gets a major upgrade.
“Now,” I say, setting the cheap bottle of lube we bought at the bodega a few blocks away on the bedside table.
“I’m going to ride your cock.” I straddle him.
“And you’re going to pound me.” I lower myself.
“Sound good, Mr. Stone?” My fingers position his tip right at my hole.
A smile overtakes Olan’s face. What I call “the big one” spreads from cheek to cheek, every tooth showing. It appears whenever he’s overjoyed—watching Illona sing and dance, licking soft-serve ice cream with sprinkles in a waffle cone, or when he’s completely engrossed in pounding my ass into oblivion.
Olan nods and slowly pushes back inside me. I’m open and ready for him and my eyes close with the complete ecstasy of his cock filling me up.
“There we go,” I say, finding a rhythm on top as he grins up at me.
My thumbs find their way into my mouth, and I wet them before attending to his chest. As I massage Olan’s firm pecs, my slick fingers giving his nipples attention, his face twists with pleasure. With the first swipe, he thrusts inside me, his cock becoming even harder.
“Now, fuck me.”
Olan moves his hands to my waist, holds me in place and guides me up and down at a faster pace. Even though I’m on top, he’s plunging up as I descend, sending frissons of delight through me as his dick hits all the right spots.
“Olan. You’re rocking my world.”
He smiles, and it erupts into a laugh, his deep chuckling echoing in the room against the sound of our bodies slapping together. It’s a familiar symphony my ears have grown to relish.
“Happy to rock it,” he says, and again, his dad-level humor tickles the cockles of my heart.
Olan grasps my dick, stroking, and I keep a hand on his left pec, flicking and pinching his nipple, while the other reaches back and begins massaging his balls. The only thing Olan loves more than fucking me is having his ass played with while he’s doing it. My fingers catch some lube from my ass as he’s fucking me, and I add a little pressure under his sack, eliciting a deep moan from Olan’s lips.
“Is your hole horny?” I ask. Olan’s eyes lock on mine, and he nods slowly as he rams his cock inside me.
I maneuver my index finger to his opening, and yup, he’s ready to roll. He stops fucking me for a moment while I slip the tip in. A low, deep noise escapes his lips. Having me finger-bang him while he fucks me will send him over, and I’m ready to watch him come undone.
“You good?” I ask.
He welcomes my finger, and there’s clearly room for another, but Olan and I always check in with each other. It’s kind of our thing.
