and rubbed myself against his muscular ass. Then I took the waistband of his boxers and pulled them quickly down, letting out a surprised gasp.
"Fuck. Me." I stared in ecstasy at the shiny flat piece of steel nestled between his cheeks.
"Surprise." He wiggled his butt playfully.
"You've been wearing that the whole time..." I said, hard as a rock and loving the sight before me.
"Mm hm."
"Cheeky little bastard," I said with affection. "That is so fucking hot." I grabbed the base of the plug and moved it gently from side to side, making him groan in pleasure.
"Martin..." he moaned, "I need you..."
I let go of the plug and leaned over to my bedside table, practically ripping the drawer out. I grabbed the bottle of lube and a condom and quickly, hastily prepared myself. When I was ready, I eased the plug out of him, causing him to groan again. I applied a copious amount of lube to him as well. He gasped. Since the plug had already stretched him I pressed the head of my cock to his entrance and pushed in slowly.
We both groaned loudly as I eased in all the way. I stopped when I was fully inside him. Even though it was killing me not to move, I knew he needed to adjust to my size and length to be comfortable. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "You feel so good inside me..."
I moaned and kept still, though sweat beaded on my forehead. He shook his head from side to side. "Fuck me...Please, fuck me..."
I straightened up and grabbed his hips. "Absolutely." I started moving in and out of him slowly. It was fucking heaven. His tight passage squeezed my cock deliciously.
"Oh yeah." He gripped the bedspread tightly in his fists. "Oh, fuck! That feels so good."
"You like that?" I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on the sensations. "'Cause I fucking love it." He whimpered and pushed back against me. "Touch me," he pleaded. "I need to come so bad..."
I let go of his hip with one still slippery hand and reached underneath him, wrapping it around his hard cock and pumping back and forth in time with our movements. He was hard as steel. He had been teased by the plug and our games for so long that after only a few firm strokes he came hard, shaking and shooting all over his belly, my hand, and the bed. The noise he made was something between a groan and a cry. I could feel his passage spasming around me as I pounded him harder, hastening my own release. When his orgasm waned he started pushing back against me again, helping me, milking me, until I climaxed inside him with a strangled moan. We collapsed on the bed, trembling and exhausted.
I rolled off him, pulling out carefully and disposing of the condom. Then I just lay there staring up at the stippled ceiling, dazed and spent and completely mind-fucked by the whole experience.
After several moments, during which we both tried to catch our breaths, I felt his arm snake across my chest. He snuggled against my side, sticky and warm and sweaty. I turned to look at him. He seemed content and sated, smiling lazily at my obviously astounded expression. "What?" he said, stroking my chest affectionately and kissing my shoulder.
"What are you doing with me?" I searched his eyes for any hint of an ulterior motive.
"Well, right now I'm basking in the afterglow of a deliciously satisfying orgasm." He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you doing?"
I blinked. "I'm trying to think of what I could have done to deserve this. To deserve you."
He laughed, like he couldn't believe what I was saying. "What? Don't you realize how talented and sweet and hot you are, Martin?"
I closed my eyes, unable to believe him. "If that's true, why has it been a year and a half since I've been with anyone?" I asked, embarrassed.
"Um, maybe because you have high standards? I'd like to think that's it."
I opened my eyes and stared at him, the simplicity of his statement a revelation. He was right. I could have spent every weekend at the clubs, picking up men and bringing them home to fuck. But, while at one
"Fuck. Me." I stared in ecstasy at the shiny flat piece of steel nestled between his cheeks.
"Surprise." He wiggled his butt playfully.
"You've been wearing that the whole time..." I said, hard as a rock and loving the sight before me.
"Mm hm."
"Cheeky little bastard," I said with affection. "That is so fucking hot." I grabbed the base of the plug and moved it gently from side to side, making him groan in pleasure.
"Martin..." he moaned, "I need you..."
I let go of the plug and leaned over to my bedside table, practically ripping the drawer out. I grabbed the bottle of lube and a condom and quickly, hastily prepared myself. When I was ready, I eased the plug out of him, causing him to groan again. I applied a copious amount of lube to him as well. He gasped. Since the plug had already stretched him I pressed the head of my cock to his entrance and pushed in slowly.
We both groaned loudly as I eased in all the way. I stopped when I was fully inside him. Even though it was killing me not to move, I knew he needed to adjust to my size and length to be comfortable. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "You feel so good inside me..."
I moaned and kept still, though sweat beaded on my forehead. He shook his head from side to side. "Fuck me...Please, fuck me..."
I straightened up and grabbed his hips. "Absolutely." I started moving in and out of him slowly. It was fucking heaven. His tight passage squeezed my cock deliciously.
"Oh yeah." He gripped the bedspread tightly in his fists. "Oh, fuck! That feels so good."
"You like that?" I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on the sensations. "'Cause I fucking love it." He whimpered and pushed back against me. "Touch me," he pleaded. "I need to come so bad..."
I let go of his hip with one still slippery hand and reached underneath him, wrapping it around his hard cock and pumping back and forth in time with our movements. He was hard as steel. He had been teased by the plug and our games for so long that after only a few firm strokes he came hard, shaking and shooting all over his belly, my hand, and the bed. The noise he made was something between a groan and a cry. I could feel his passage spasming around me as I pounded him harder, hastening my own release. When his orgasm waned he started pushing back against me again, helping me, milking me, until I climaxed inside him with a strangled moan. We collapsed on the bed, trembling and exhausted.
I rolled off him, pulling out carefully and disposing of the condom. Then I just lay there staring up at the stippled ceiling, dazed and spent and completely mind-fucked by the whole experience.
After several moments, during which we both tried to catch our breaths, I felt his arm snake across my chest. He snuggled against my side, sticky and warm and sweaty. I turned to look at him. He seemed content and sated, smiling lazily at my obviously astounded expression. "What?" he said, stroking my chest affectionately and kissing my shoulder.
"What are you doing with me?" I searched his eyes for any hint of an ulterior motive.
"Well, right now I'm basking in the afterglow of a deliciously satisfying orgasm." He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you doing?"
I blinked. "I'm trying to think of what I could have done to deserve this. To deserve you."
He laughed, like he couldn't believe what I was saying. "What? Don't you realize how talented and sweet and hot you are, Martin?"
I closed my eyes, unable to believe him. "If that's true, why has it been a year and a half since I've been with anyone?" I asked, embarrassed.
"Um, maybe because you have high standards? I'd like to think that's it."
I opened my eyes and stared at him, the simplicity of his statement a revelation. He was right. I could have spent every weekend at the clubs, picking up men and bringing them home to fuck. But, while at one
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