I was naked on my own bed, leaning back against the headboard. For a laundry list of reasons - some circumstance-related and others due to my own insecurities and self-punishment - I thought the man standing at the foot of my bed would always be out of my reach. That what was happening was as close to a zero percent possibility as you could get. But there he stood, surveying my body with the type of fire, desire, and hunger I'd fantasized about literally thousands of times.
I averted my eyes from him to myself, taking in my nakedness. I'd never been a fan of looking at myself in this way. I didn't like having pictures taken of me. Looking in the mirror used to make me uncomfortable. I was newly on a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance and starting to like the way I looked, flaws, imperfections and all. Although I went to the gym three to four days a week, I didn't look like some sort of muscled-out gymrat or meathead. Even though I'd hardly describe myself as unhealthy, I had a touch of excess meat on my belly from ingesting more than just watercress salads and protein shakes. Over 15 years ago, I'd let a guy I was involved with get in my head and convince me to shave my crotch because "no one likes hair down there." It had grown back in, but not as thick as it had been before I shaved. I've always hated that I'd changed myself in such an unnecessary and superficial way for a man.
Any hangup or insecurity I had, the man standing in front of me couldn't have cared less. He wanted me. Not an idealized version of me or the me he wanted me to turn myself into for him. It was ME. That much was obvious by the look on his face. As my eyes traveled down my torso, my own need for him was plainly clear. Unless he wanted to hear me say the words, he didn't have to ask. All he had to do was look at my cock, towering steely above my lower midsection. When I brought my gaze back up to his face, the corner of his mouth curled into an amused grin. He knew about my self-esteem issues and my knee-jerk tendency to get in my own head. He definitely knew exactly what I was thinking right then and he was proud that I was taking in my own beauty and allowing myself to completely be given over to the connection we were forming in the moment.
He brought his hands up to the second button of the dress shirt he'd worn to dinner tonight. I'd already popped the top one open during our make out session downstairs on my couch a short time ago. He had question in his eyes, making sure I was ready for this. I was. I had been for a long time. I gently nodded my head. Without looking away, he slowly, sensually, torturously undid each button until it fell open, allowing me to see the pepper with a little salt starting to come in hair splayed across his runners-build chest, trailing down to his trim stomach.
"Wow..." I said softly.
"Guess I don't have to ask if you like," he teased me.
I bit my lip and shook my head. "But because you deserve all the praise I can heap on you, I like. A LOT!"
"Good," he whispered, the good natured expression of his tease giving way to desire once again.
"Let me see you," I finally said, hearing eagerness on my voice.
Instantly knowing what I meant, he bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders until his shirt fell down his arms and his back. He pulled each sleeve off of his arm and let it fall to the floor. I knew he went to the gym about as often as I did, but he was obviously much more dedicated to it than I was. His muscled arms and shoulders were proof of that. The fact of the matter was that I wanted a good, decent, honorable man who may not be perfect, but always tried to do the right thing. I knew he was that kind of man, but I kind of hated that I was so superficial in the moment that all I really cared about was how good his torso and arms looked.
"Jesus," I sighed.
"I'll take that as a compliment!" With a Cheshire cat grin, he started to climb onto the bed at the foot, when I stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
For a moment, he looked startled, as if he wasn't sure what I was getting at. When he stood frozen, with his hands on either side of my legs and one knee on the mattress, I let him off the hook. "This bed has a no clothes allowed policy. I'm afraid you'll be in non-compliance if I let you keep going. I'm going to need you to align yourself to code before we can proceed!"
He grinned and stood upright. "I shoulda known. You've always been a stickler for the rules!"
"If this bed needs an accountability officer when you're around, I'm more than willing to step into the role," I replied, adding with a sense of horny urgency. "Now with that said...off with 'em!"
I stuck my thumb out and pointed over my shoulder. My excitement wasn't just because he was here with me. It was fed by the growing and fattening bulge that was stretching down the left leg of his trousers. If I felt superficial before about valuing his body over his character and his non-physical attributes, I was feeling even more so now. So anxious to see his cock. My mouth was starting to water as I watched him undo his belt, pull it through the loops and drop it onto the floor with a thud.
Next, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled the zipper down, and pushed them down. After he stepped out of them and kicked them across the floor to the other side of the room, I was able to take in the lower body I'd seen so vividly many times before. His muscled thighs, sculpted from leg days at the gym and his legs toned and fit from his dedication to running. But what really caught my eye was the distended bulge tenting the pouch of his boxer briefs. The moist spot where his head was dressed giving away that he was just as turned on as I was.
Looking directly into my eyes, he reached down to first palm and massage the bulge before he stuck his hand below the elastic band and pretended to readjust himself for my benefit. "I guess these are in the way, aren't they?"
"I'll say..." I said, hearing a quiver in my voice. "You wanna do something to remedy the situation?"
"Should I?" he teased me with a smirk. The horny bastard knew I wanted it bad and was enjoying building my anticipation. I was enjoying it too.
"Don't make me get off this bed," I half-pretended to be frustrated.
"Uh-uh," he shook his head. "You're not out of this bed until I say so."
With that, he slowly peeled his underwear down, letting his more than eight incher pop free and upward. over top of a set of full-looking balls. After he bent over to grab them from the floor, he surprised the hell out of me by bringing them up to his face and took a big huff of the pouch.
"Ohhhh fuccckkkk!" I moaned. It was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen. Seeing the pure satisfaction on his face as he took in his own musky scent. Who'd have thought?
When he finally let them drop from his hand to the floor, he looked at me. "Do I finally meet the rigorous requirements to be allowed on the bed?'
It was a rush finally getting to see him standing there, fully exposed. His attractive, mature body. Perfect in his own imperfections, but 100% sexy to me. I was so enraptured by him and the desire rolling off of his body in waves that I let words fail me momentarily.
"Well..." he broke me from the spell I'd cast on myself. "Don't leave me hanging!"
"I don't think that's gonna be a problem for either of us," I grinned, prompting both of us to laugh softly. "Climb aboard!" I continued enthusiastically.
As he got on at the foot and climbed up my body to join me and touch his forehead to mine, he whispered, "Uh, no. That's what I'm going to be saying to you in not too much longer," before he leaned in and gave me a soft, lingering kiss.
He kissed his way down my neck, making me inhale sharply and moan. I reached down his back to grip his musculature, needing to cling to him to steady myself against the waves of passion that were rocking my body. His trip down my body continued, laying kisses across my sparsely-haired chest before finding my right nipple. Between lightly grazing it with his teeth, working it with his tongue, and softly suckling on it, I was on Cloud 9. When he pulled his mouth from me, I was disappointed...until he repeated the same treatment on my left nipple.
A minute later, he leaned up and looked at me as if to silently ask if he'd been doing okay. I'd never say it to him because I was worried it wouldn't land the right way, but in that moment, I wish that I had milk stored there for him to nurse on. It made my cock twitch to imagine myself seeing traces of it on his lips and his chin. "Oh fuck yesssss," I sighed.
When he felt my cock involuntarily spasm against his stomach, he grinned. "If you liked THAT, hold that thought!"
He leaned back down and continued his lip and tongue-filled journey, finally laving over my leaking cock. Looking up into my eyes as he slowly licked the head and then took it into his mouth. I knew he wouldn't spend much time there. It wasn't his ultimate target. He'd even be the first to admit it wasn't what he was most talented at. But I loved that he knew I liked it and wanted to make me feel good.
After a few minutes, he pulled off of me and gave some well-deserved attention to my balls. When I felt his tongue touch my taint, softly fluttering his tongue and teasing it as he traveled downward, I knew he was where he truly wanted to be. And honestly, it's where I wanted him to. Although I'd been skeptical at first, he'd opened my eyes to the joys of a good rim job, particularly when the one giving it knew what he was doing and as fucking talented at it as he is.
When he alternated between lightly running his tongue around the ring and blowing softly, I arched my back. He hadn't even truly gotten into the heart of the job yet and I was already fit to be tied. When he fully extended his tongue and dug into my depths, I knew I was in for an extended session. Hearing his lips smacking and the sounds his tongue was making as he really worked me open drove me crazy. I gripped onto the bedsheets and threw my head from side to side. Damn this man and his freakin' tongue!
At one point, I opened my mouth to moan and thought it sounded weird when I heard my voice. Was I hearing things or had he caused me to moan in Surround Sound? It wasn't until I went silent that I realized we were both moaning...me into the silence of the bedroom and him into my hole. God what a turn on! I wasn't sure whether it was eating ass in general that was getting him going or if it was the fact that it was my ass. Just the fact that he was so into it only built the passion of the moment.
I reached down and softly ran my hand through his short hair, feeling his body heat. When I removed my hand, he pulled back and lifted up. The sight of him with saliva coating his lips and his chin was another turn on that I wasn't quite prepared for. Wordlessly, he climbed up my body until we were once again face to face. With no hesitation at all, I leaned up and met him in a deeply passionate kiss, parting my lips to let his tongue invade. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled our bodies closer together. I brought my hands down to his waist and cupped his ass. It was a true shame that he wasn't a bottom. The man's rump was perhaps one of his top assets.
As I started to grip onto his buns and my pinkie finger found its way to his trench, he pulled back from our seemingly never ending make out session with a sly grin. "Someone won't let go of the idea that they can get me into enjoying having my ass played with."
"Was a finger slip," I winked at him with a smile and a soft ass slap. "You know how much I love these cheeks. I just wanted to cop a few good feels."
"That, I can handle, Mister, " he teased before leaning in for a shorter put no less passionate kiss. We were truly on the same wavelength, feeding off of each other.
When we parted from the second kiss, I whispered breathlessly as I reached between us to circle my hand around the heat of his fat tool, "I need you. I need your cock. Now!"
He smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "What my man wants, my man gets."
As he reached over to pull the lube from my night stand drawer, I exhaled. "Ohhhh, yess! I'm holding you to that, stud!"
After some quick prep work, I started to roll over, eager to feel him slipping inside me. "What are you doing?" I heard him genuinely sound confused by what he was seeing.
I looked over my shoulder. "You ARE about to fuck me, aren't you?"
"Absolutely," he said, reaching out to run his hand over my exposed ass. "But not like this."
"But it's your favorite..." I started to argue when he interrupted me.
"I know. It is. But we've done it this way the past few times. I know what you like. You deserve to get your way too." He eased me around in his arms until I was on my back and he was looking down at me. He reached up to lightly touch the tip of my nose with his index finger before adding with a teasing smile, "...every once in a while."
We kissed again. I couldn't get enough of his lips and his tongue. If he wasn't so good at what was about to happen next, making out with him would be my favorite thing.
After a few more moments where I begrudgingly let his lips leave mine so he could lean back so we could get into position...me propped up on a couple pillows and him kneeling between my legs, lining himself up into position. Feeling his head kiss my ring, burrow in and stretch my entrance, and begin slowly sliding in was always a surreal experience no matter how many times we'd done it before. I could never quite seem to believe that he was here and that this was actually happening. Once he was all the way in and I felt his bush and his pelvic bone press against me, he leaned down just inches from my face. "Being inside you feels so good. You always feel so fucking good."
Calling back to something he'd said earlier, I moaned out, "Likewise..." I reached up to grip the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. When we parted, I sighed. "I wish you could fuck me like this the entire time. Kissing me."
"Me too," he whispered back. "I will, at least for part of the time. But right now..." he left the rest of the sentence unsaid and I knew what he meant. He needed to fuck. And I needed him to fuck.
He raised up and looked down at me again. The look on his face - a mix of horniness, desire, admiration, and true honest connection - bowled me over and unexpectedly caused my body to shiver. "Oh fuck..." I barely audibly whispered.
He picked up on the way my body reacted and reached down to put his hand on my chest. Locking eyes with me letting me see the care in them, he said with more sincerity than I'd ever heard anyone say to me before, "Don't worry. I got you, J. I got us."
If he'd asked me to marry him right then, I wouldn't have cared that it might've been a sex-fueled proposal. I'd have said yes without a second thought. This fuckin' unicorn of a man knew my soul and I loved the fuck out of that fact.
Starting off slow, he locked eyes with me as I felt him start to massage my prostate. Soon enough, nature took over and he built up steam and speed. I reached up with one hand to run over his chest while another gripped his bicep to brace myself as both of his hands were on me.
True to his word, he slowed down mid-session and leaned in to kiss me. I know how hard it is for any man to shift gears in the middle of a passionate rut like that, but especially for him to do it. As our lips locked and our tongues battled in our open mouths, he bucked his hips to continue the fuck.
After another couple minutes of extended, alternating soft and deep kisses, he said softly into my mouth, "I'm sorry. I can't hold back. I gotta..."
I ran my hand over his chest and up his neck to softly rub the side and nodded. "I know. Give me your load, dammit. Make me yours!"
He leaned down and put his mouth directly to my ear and whispered softly, "I've got news for you, J. You already are," before leaning back upright again.
It was the hottest thing ever! Taking the initiative, I wrapped my legs around his waist. "If you don't pound your load out of my ass right now, I WILL kick you out of bed, fucker!"
He laughed. "Your wish is my command!"
He reached for the lube, squirted some into his palm, and coated my cock. He gave me a quick look. "In case you wanna stroke."
I wasn't sure I'd need to. He'd brought me off hands-free before. But I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
For a short time, he went slow, building back up to the intensity he'd been at before. After close to ten minutes, I felt like I was getting close and I could tell he was too. His O face wasn't too far from showing itself. I tried to hold back as long as I could, but after a repeated and rapid assault on my prostate, I couldn't keep my cock from erupting like a geyser, spraying my chest and stomach with the viscous white liquid.
My ass clenching around his fat hog as I came was the last straw for him. His face contorted into that beautiful O face and a split second later I felt the heat of his load coating my insides. "Oh shit!" he shouted as he started to come down from the height of passion.
"Fuck," I echoed his awe of the moment. With him, it always felt like the first time in the best of ways,
With his slowly softening dong still buried inside me he gently lowered his upper body to connect with me body to body, belly to spent cock, forehead to forehead, leaning in to engage in a soft but deep make out session. He broke our kiss and leaned up to lick along my earlobe, nipping at it softly. With his lips still on the lobe, he whispered. "You're incredible. You know that?"
"Hardly," I demurred as I brought my hand to the back of his neck to pull him back to my lips. "I've been wanting this for so long. I'm just happy to have you here."
When he smiled, I felt like swooning. There was nothing about this man that I didn't find sexy. "I hope I lived up to the hype!"
"Amazing is far too much of an understatement," I winked. "Thank you for this."
His face turned serious. "You have to stop thanking me like I'm doing you a favor or a kindness. I'm here because I want to be, not because I'm throwing you a bone or something." When I cocked my eye at him and smirked because of his unintentional double entendre, he laughed. "You know what I mean. This wasn't a mercy fuck. This was an I want you fuck."
My old instinct to project my own self-doubts was hard to set aside, but if anyone made me unafraid to trust and take his words at face value, it was him. I reached out to grip his bicep and ran my hand up his arm to his shoulder and eventually the side of his neck. "God, you're good for me."
"Likewise," he grinned before giving me a smoldering look. "I'm not going anywhere, J," he whispered and I could tell he meant it. He then jokingly added, "As long as you don't kick me out of bed."
We met for another soulful clinch and I said softly into the kiss, "Never gonna happen."
This time it was his turn to say without breaking the kiss, "I'm gonna hold you to that. Or maybe I'll just hold you in general."
When his arms slipped around me and the kiss deepened, I moaned his name into his mouth. In the midst of our passion, I felt his cock escape the clutches of my well-stretched hole with an audible pop and that's when my eyes flew open.
I was alone on my bed. I looked down the length of my body beyond the splotches of drying cum that painted my chest and the larger pool that had gathered above my belly button. I softly raised my head a little bit higher and saw the dildo laying on the towel I'd put under myself, covered by a sheen of lube not yet completely dry.
With a heavy sigh, I lay back on the pillow and looked up at the still fan protruding from the ceiling. As with all of the other times, it had all seemed so real. His hands on me. His mouth on mine and on my skin. The warmth of his body on mine. The searing heat of his cock as it flexed inside me and dumped load after load inside its home. It had all been a fantasy. An achingly pleasurable, sexual, raw, primal, painful, and heartbreaking fantasy. That was the trouble with a dildo. For all the pleasure it could provide, it couldn't give what I truly wanted: the physical connection of being with a man. Not just any man, mind you. A man who wanted to be there, wanted me, and knew how to show his desire.
When I'd bought the phallic object a while ago, I'd told myself I was using it simply as a tool...an extension of my exploration of what I liked and what felt good. It wasn't long before I realized that pretending it belonged to a guy helped heighten the pleasure for me. What started out as an intention to choose a different guy to imagine each time I played with it quickly turned into a rotating cast of about four of five. When imagining it was him a couple times - and all of the trappings that came along with it, including moaning out his name - turned into the most intense sessions I'd ever had, the other three or four guys in my fantasy rotation fell by the wayside. He was the only one I wanted to think about while I played it in and out of my hole and teased it with the faux-fleshy head before sticking it in.
As I climbed off of the bed and brought it into the bathroom with me to clean it off, I felt incredibly empty. Not just physically from not having it inside me, but emotionally as well. I'd never have him. Never be able to feel our bodies writhing against each other, clinging to each other, hungrily kissing, laying in bed together afterward lazily conspiring over our shared fantasies as we bonded through the body contact. As I set it down so it could dry, I looked at it with my hole quivering at the memory of what I'd just done with it. I hated this thing. And I loved it too.
Later, when I grabbed it from the bathroom to place it in my nightstand drawer, I looked down at it in my hand as I played my fist slowly up and down as if it was a real cock I was stroking. "I'm going to have to rename you, aren't I? That's the only way to get over this dammed fantasy." I sighed as I made my way back into my bedroom, sat on the bed, and opened the drawer. "So... Who should it be? Brian? Skip? Or maybe I'll give you his government name...Matt?"
I lay it in the drawer and as I pushed it shut. I knew I was lying to myself. I wasn't going to name it after a different guy. I'd repeated the same exercise in futility a few other times in recent months. I didn't like the feeling of the aftermath, but the pleasure the fantasy of him gave me and the ecstasy it threw me into was too intoxicating to give up. As with the other times I'd threatened myself with giving the dildo a new name, I'd talk myself out of this time too. Pretending it was him who was fucking me was worth the disappointment of the reality that I'd never get to know what it felt like to be in his arms.
