Pure sensation, obliterating thought and time and space. I’m pretty sure I’d ascended to another dimension by the time he bottomed out and even then, I barely had a moment to breathe before he started fucking me.
It was glorious.
I knew Holden was still being gentle because he wasn’t moving very far, or very fast, and I concentrated on breathing, and relaxing, and waiting for that burn to turn to a tingle and that tingle to turn to pleasure as he slid more of his cock in and out of me.
My hole ached, but it started to feel sweet as he established a rhythm, making me take it all. So hard, so hot, and God, so wet. The lube smoothed his passage in and out of my hole, slicking the edges, dripping down onto my balls.
I felt the rough scratch of his jeans rubbing against my thighs as he pressed into me and I wondered for a moment what it would look like if someone walked in on us right now. Me on all fours, taking it from a guy so much bigger than I was, fully clothed. Would they interpret my moans as protests, my head hanging down as exhaustion?
Or would they see how hard my dick was, how I was rocking back to meet Holden’s thrusts? Would they see the pink flush in my cheeks, the lust in my eyes?
If they stuck around long enough, they’d know the truth, because I started to whine, unable to stop myself.
“Fuck, you’re so big. God, yes, fuck me. Holden, your cock—I can’t—I need—fuck, you’re so big.”
And they’d hear his answering murmurs, the praise he rained down on me, calling me sweetheart, honey, gorgeous.
“That’s it, you can take it. You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking tight. Just open up, that’s it. Take it all. Such a good boy.”
And then he changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting my prostate, and I lost the ability to think clearly again, the ability to think at all. Receptors overloaded, other senses fuzzing in and out. It was all pleasure, clouds, and choirs of angels singing in harmony as I whimpered, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I need—I can’t—fuck, I’m so close.”
“Come for me,” Holden said, slamming into me as his hands gripped my hips. “Show me how much you like that dick.”
And I did—like it, and show him, as I reached back for my cock and with three quick strokes, pushed myself over the edge, shooting down onto the rug. Holden’s strokes grew faster, harder, thrusting into me over and over as I shook, until he came too, with a groan.
For a second, I wished the condom would break, so he could spill into me. Leave me marked and dripping as I went to Portland. I wanted to feel it pooling in my underwear in the car. I pictured my dad pulling me in for a hug, not knowing that my ass was still seeping with Holden’s seed.
My cock, softening already, tried to get hard again at the thought. Holden’s fingers dug into my hips as he released, and I wanted him to drape himself over my body, wanted both of us to collapse on the floor.
Instead, he pulled out, leaving my hole loose and open, quivering around the edges. It felt like it might never close up again, like for the rest of my life I’d just be ready and waiting for him to fuck me whenever he wanted.
Again, my cock gave a half-hearted twitch.
“Time to go,” Holden said, and he patted my ass—not spanked, to be clear, but patted, like I was a horse or something. Way hotter than it should have been.
I heard him roll the condom off and stand up to throw it in the trash. When I turned around, he was zipping up his fly, while I was still on all fours, my ass exposed.
It was embarrassing and a turn-on all over again. But Holden had a point, unfortunately, and now that he’d accommodated my request—well, demand—to be fucked, he appeared to be all business. So I pushed myself up, tugged my clothes back into place, and nodded when he asked if I was ready to meet Daisy at her car.
I realized I was trying to memorize everything as we walked through the house—the dark, paneled wood, the intricate carvings, the worn patches of carpet where Frog liked to lay in the sun.
Stupid, I scolded myself. You’re coming back. But I couldn’t help it.