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The way some people talk about two guys getting it on you'd think it isn't sex until someone takes it up the ass. That's bullshit. By my definition, sex is whatever happened when you walk away thinking "I just had sex." Sex is...sex is a lot of things. So, yeah, I've had sex with other guys before Jim.
I've just never been fucked.
It makes sense if you think about it. I came out in the late eighties. Post-AIDS. People were dying. Worse, people were dying and doctors had no fucking idea what to do about it.
So there I was, a socially stunted college kid, suddenly getting a clue. It was like somebody clobbered me with a 2x4. I knew I liked women - no questions there - but one day it occurred to me that, no, straight guys do not spend their time checking out other men's assets. Asses. Whatever. Seeing as that was one of my favorite hobbies, maybe it was time to question some assumptions.
But I'd read the newspapers. I'd heard about AIDS on TV. I've never been stupid, and I wasn't about to take chances. Besides, there's lots of other fun stuff to do, right? Oh, yeah.
College was this amazing smorgasbord of dating and fucking. Maybe that's another reason. For never letting another guy... I mean, I never really stayed with one person long enough to get creative. I guess I ran the gamut from anonymous fuck at a party - bass thumping through the floors and walls, the sound of people laughing and talking on the other side of the door, and there I am in this closet with this thin, hard body up against me. Feeling his hot breath puffing against my neck as he rocks his hips against me, his hard dick pressing against my belly. His hand in my pants, jerking me. His mouth on mine, trying to stifle the noises I can't help making because it all feels so good. Hard, tight pull of his hand. His tongue against mine, aggressive and rhythmic. The feel of beard against my face, reminding me that oh-my-god this is really happening. My hands on his chest, his hips, pulling him harder against me. And all the time the feel of the bass rumbles through my body, forcing me to move with the music until I come in his hand and he shudders against me and I hear him gasping and I know I'll be jerking off to this memory for pretty much the rest of my life. So from that to what? Maybe two weeks of exclusivity, sort of. Monogamy, Sandburg style. You know, whatever they don't know can't hurt 'em?
Dating's just this all you can eat buffet. As soon as I figured out that, hey, I really like people and we can have a damn good time together, I carried my little plate up to the buffet table and started sampling. A little of this, a little of that. Never too much of any one thing because, you know, I didn't want to fill up too soon. Lots of stuff to try. Lots of people. And I wasn't going to let some guy I didn't know all that well stick his...
See, that's another thing. I'm sort of...nervous. I mean, yeah, I guess centuries of men have been fucked without dire consequences. Guys talk about it - the whole prostate thing - like it's a religious experience. I guess it can't be that painful, right? But isn't it kind of...I don't know, messy? I'm all for experimentation, but I am so not into playing with shit. Like, what if we go ahead and, you know, do it and then... I'm not even sure what I'm afraid of. But I know shit is somehow involved. And I'm so not okay with that.
So, the point is that here I am, almost thirty and never been fucked, and suddenly there's Jim. A guy I sort of committed myself to even before we were sleeping together. A guy I trust enough, only I've never done it before and I'm not about to start now without doing a little research first.
Jim and I pretty quickly became friends. That whole strapping himself to a helicopter landing skid because some nut job kidnapped me - a display like that just cuts through all the macho bullshit. So we're friends. And right off, there were sparks.
We started messing around pretty quickly, too.
The first time - I think it was during the second or third week - I'm in the bullpen and look up and he's watching me. He doesn't say anything, doesn't make a move towards me, nothing. But that look, man. That is some serious heat, there.
Suddenly I'm really aware of my clothes touching my skin. The hair on my arms stands on end. Denim scraping against the back of my thigh feels like a tongue swipe. My cotton t-shirt rubs against my chest and my nipples decide to stand up and be counted. Hell, I'm ready to shoot and all he's done is look.
Whatever, man. No shy flowers here, so I stare right back at him. Tell him with my eyes that I think he looks good enough to eat and, seeing as it's lunchtime and everything, maybe we could go out and give that a try. He gives me the once-over - a searing, sweeping look - and just nods at the door. Oh, yeah. We are on the same page, same book, same wavelength - same everything. I love it when that happens.
I grab my jacket and start walking casually towards the door. Well, as casually as I can when I'm holding a jacket in front of my crotch to hide this enormous bulge.
We don't talk on the way to the truck. In the elevator, Jim gives me this sideways glance and then he gets the look. That not-really-smiling look that deepens the creases framing his mouth. Then he looks away because, you know, elevator etiquette requires that no eye-contact be made even if you're with people you know. But even though he isn't looking at me any more, he starts grinning. Tooth exposure and everything. We haven't even touched each other and he's already wearing the "I just got lucky" expression. Like he's the one getting the prize. Goes straight to my head. I'm all for doing him right here in the elevator - who cares about the audience - but the two uniforms plus the secretary from records might have something to say about that.
We make it to the truck without incident. He's starting it, but I'm absorbed in watching the play of muscles under his jeans, the flex of thigh as he presses down on the gas pedal. And I just have to touch him. So the engine's revving, some officers are waving at Jim as they head for their cruiser, and I slide my hand onto his leg. Not a crotch grab, but high up on his leg. He draws in his breath. Under my hand, I feel his quads tighten. He's pressing his head hard against the headrest and staring straight ahead. Then, like he can't help himself, he sort of rolls his hips up. A slow, rocking movement. Just once. He lets his breath out as he does. No real sound, there, sort of a subvocal moan. I sense it more than hear it, but it really gets me going.
There are cops everywhere. This isn't exactly private, I mean, Jim's parked in the fucking precinct garage. That sort of gets me going, too, though - the thrill of maybe getting caught. I move my hand up over Jim's fly. Press down where he's hard and hot. He rocks up again. This time I hear him moan.
He's trying not to let it show on his face. Trying to look normal for the steady stream of people walking through the garage. He white-knuckles the steering wheel with his left hand and guides my hand with his right. Slides his fingers through mine and presses me against his dick in time with his next thrust. Nice and slow. I take my cue from him and look straight ahead. I'm trying to look like all my attention isn't focused on his lap. On the hard-on I'm feeling through his jeans. On the way he's drawing air in through his nose and letting it out again with each rock of his hips.
I've got the motion now. I'm pressing my hand against him just right, and he lets go. Starts tracing patterns on the underside of my wrist and up my forearm. It's a barely-there sensation but fuck it feels good. I'm breathing heavy now, too.
Jim lets out a deep, quiet groan and grinds his dick against my palm. He slides down on the seat, spreading his legs wide. Starts speeding up, really fucking my hand.
I can't help myself, I've got to look. I sneak a glance, and oh god. He's struggling to keep his eyes open. I can tell he desperately wants to tilt his head back and just go with it. His chest is fucking heaving, and he's lifting his hips frantically. I press down hard, whisper, "you're so fucking hot like this," and that does it. I feel him spurting in his jeans. Long hard pulses against my palm, and a spreading wetness across the fly. The cab smells like spunk and sweat. I stroke him gently until he goes boneless against the seat. I watch, fascinated, as aftershocks ripple through him.
As soon as he can, he's got that truck in gear and we're peeling out of the garage. He's heading for home, driving as fast as he can. He's a cop - who's going to stop him? I don't say anything because, frankly, I can't wait to get there.
We pull up to 852 Prospect and practically sprint inside. There's no one in the elevator. As soon as the doors slide closed, Jim has me pinned to the wall and he's kissing me. It's a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Hot. Nasty. I've been dreaming about this since he threw me up against my office wall. I hook my hand around the back of his neck and pull him closer.
He's bigger than the guys I dated in college. I have to spread my arms wide to wrap them around his chest. He leans his weight against me, slips one hand under my hair and holds me by the nape. He covers my dick with his other hand. Not really pressing, just sort of saying hello. I slide my tongue into his mouth. The elevator dings and the doors slide open on the third floor.
Jim backs off slowly, gradually lifting his body away from mine and finally pulling his mouth free. I am so hard I feel like I'm walking bow-legged as we make our way to 307. He fumbles with the lock, throws the door open and I follow him inside. As soon as the door swings shut, he pushes me up against it.
I could get used to this.
I'm trying to reel him in for another kiss, but he's got other ideas. He's fumbling with my belt, yanking my shirt up and my jeans down. He drops to his knees in front of me and suddenly I'm feeling lightheaded. He shoves my jeans down to my knees but leaves my boxers where they are. The head of my dick is pushing out of the fly. Jim leans in, closes his eyes and inhales deeply.
He blows out his breath, sending a stream of air across my aching dick. My whole body jerks in reaction. It feels fantastic. I'm pressing slick palms against the door, digging in with my fingertips. My legs are trembling.
"Jesus, Jim," I choke out. He smiles up at me and licks the tip of my cock. Tickles that sensitive wad of skin right behind the head with his tongue. I'm spurting like a fucking fountain. The first shot streaks across Jim's cheek and then he gets his mouth around me. Oh god. Jesus Fucking Christ.
Things get hazy for a while. Next thing I know, I'm puddled on the floor with my jeans still around my knees. Jim's stroking one broad hand across my face, smoothing my hair back. He sees me watching him and this smartass grin spreads across his face. I feel myself grinning right back.
So it's four weeks later and we're still together. Way past my two-week cutoff and I'm not even seeing anybody else on the sly. (Yeah, I go out with a few women just to keep up appearances, but Jim knows about that. I don't sleep with them. Don't even want to, really.) This whole fidelity thing is kind of new for me, but as a social scientist my life is all about experimentation. And even if I'm not experimenting with new people, that doesn't mean I can't try new things with Jim, right? I trust him, after all. So I'm willing to try it. Fucking, I mean.
In my typical fashion, I turn to books first. A little reading to figure out what I need to know. Skimming, really. I don't have time to read anything in depth these days unless it pertains to my dissertation. And while ass-fucking might liven up my paper, I don't think it has a whole lot to do with the subject matter. So I surf the web and look up safe sex information, because I'm still not going to take any chances. The rules seem to consist of a)condoms, b) lube, c) lube and d) hey, while you're at it, how about another quart of lube?
I make a mental note to buy some lube.
I'm sort of a do-it-yourselfer, so I figure I can buy myself some toys and work out the kinks with this whole penetration thing before broaching the subject to Jim. No need to disappoint him or anything. I head out for that little sex shop next to the place where I buy my incense.
I walk in the door, and immediately I'm faced with an age-old choice: dildo or butt plug? Like I know the answer to that. Offhand I'd say dildo. Seems more fun, you know? It's obviously a masturbation toy, or can be. A butt plug, on the other hand...seems kind of weird. I just can't imagine sticking something up my ass and then going on about my day. Besides, what if Jim could...I don't know, smell it? Like an olfactory showdown: noses at fifty paces. One day he'd turn around and say, "Sandburg, is that a butt plug I'm smelling? And that lube - it's positively overwhelming."
For all I know, there could be a good reason for choosing one over the other. I decide to ask. I head for the register, but suddenly I'm struck dumb. Now, I'm a charming guy. I study human interaction for a living; fitting in is what I do. When in Rome, and all that. But nothing in my life has given me the skills to walk up to the big, butch woman behind the counter and say "Hey, I've never had anything up my butt before. Could you recommend a good starter package?"
I lurk sort of obviously until she asks if she can help.
I mumble it out. "Uh, I'm looking for...uh..." I glance around the shop. There aren't any other customers at the moment. I keep going. "For, um, toys. A toy, really. Just one." I'm mentally cursing my tendency to babble when nervous. "For, um...anal...er..." I trail off uncomfortably, waiting for her to throw me a line.
Which, amazingly, she does. "Is it for use on yourself or on a partner?" she asks as she walks around the end of the counter and directs me to the back of the store.
I don't know why I'm surprised. She's the proprietor of a sex shop - of course she can talk calmly and professionally about sex. Still, I'm relieved.
"Uh, on myself," I tell her. I'm starting to relax, to get into the communication groove. She doesn't bat an eyelash, as if men routinely walk up to her and start a casual conversation about butt fucking.
"Have you ever tried anal sex before?" she says. I shake my head 'no.'
"What about fingers?" she asks. When I shake no again, she says, "Fingers are a good way to begin. And definitely use a glove and lube."
The researcher in me is starting to get interested. "Why?" I ask her, surreptitiously checking out the dildo display.
"Well, your fingers are actually pretty rough compared to a penis. Gloves are smooth and the lube eases the way. It's less likely to hurt." I nod, mentally filing away this information for future reference. What in hell does she mean by "less likely"?
Eventually I get to the point and ask her the dildo vs. butt plug question. Basically what it comes down to is preference. Well, I'm sure as hell not going for the butt plug; a dildo it is. But choosing one? All I can say is, there is no way I'm putting some dolphin-shaped thing up my butt. And the Virgin Mary? Even aside from the whole Jewish thing, that's just...well, kind of funny, actually. But still a big no.
I'm trying not to look at a gigantic dildo that wouldn't be out of place on a horse. That thing is fucking terrifying. Maybe because I'm staring at it, she starts talking to me about size. Right. I'm a guy shopping for dildos. Of course it's a size thing.
She points to one that looks like a toothpick in comparison to the frightening monolith on the bottom shelf.
"This is a nice model for beginners," she tells me. "The diameter is roughly equivalent to two finger-widths, so it shouldn't be too difficult to start with." She points out a few other skinny-looking dildos and then leaves me alone to think about it.
I finally decide on a one-and-a-half-finger one that, except for the green color, looks just like a real dick. I can always work my way up. I decide to buy a really big bottle of lube. I'm feeling paranoid, though, so I have to conduct a sniff test on all of them and then start looking for lists of ingredients. I finally pick one that doesn't smell like anything much to me and put it on the counter next to my new dildo. I grab a box of gloves and I'm good to go.
As soon as I pay, I head for home.
I get home from the toy store around four in the afternoon. The light on the message machine is blinking. I hit the button and Jim's voice fills the loft.
"Looks like it's going to be a late night for me, Chief. Hopefully I'll wrap everything up around nine. Don't wait dinner for me, we're going to order out." The machine clicks off.
I look at my watch. I've got about five hours of privacy. If that isn't enough, then I'm probably doing something wrong. I grab a towel from the bathroom and then veer into my little room under the stairs and drop the innocuous paper bag onto my futon.
I quickly strip, tossing my t-shirt, flannel shirt, jeans and boxers vaguely in the direction of my clothes hamper. When I'm naked, I shove the blankets to the bottom of the mattress and spread the towel out on the sheet. I reach for my purchases, open the gloves and slip one on.
Now what?
I wonder if I should maybe jerk off a little. You know, to get in the mood. Because right now I'm just feeling sort of...clinical. And nervous. And imagining Jim's face if I accidentally hurt myself and he comes home and...finds me.
My dick, which has been semi-hard since I made the decision to go toy shopping, goes totally limp. Fuck it. I'm just going to do the finger thing and see what happens.
I lube up and immediately realize that sitting up is not going to be an option. I try lying on my back and reaching through my spread legs, but I can barely even reach my asshole from this position. I try lying on my side and reaching around back. That's a little better. The best position seems to be lying on my stomach with a pillow under my belly.
By the time I decide on that, the water-based lube on the glove is starting to go tacky. I add some more, reach around and...probe. It doesn't feel bad. It barely feels like anything at all, but at least it isn't bad. I rub around the outside of my hole for a little while, getting used to this strange sensation. Finally I add some more lube - I'm supposed to use a lot, right? - and press.
My fingertip slides in. It's still a fairly mild sensation, but it's actually feeling good now. My dick's starting to get interested in the proceedings. I rock my hips forward into the futon and then back against my hand. My finger slides further in. Mmmmyeah. That's starting to feel really...
I'm bent at an awkward angle and I'm pretty sure I'll be having backaches all week from this, but I don't want to stop long enough to change positions. I press as far in as I can, which isn't that far. I'm totally hard now, rubbing against the sheets and thrusting against my finger. It's like a tease - good, but not nearly enough.
I guess it won't kill me to stop for a second, as long as I get some more of this. Time to break out the toy.
I peel off the used glove and drop it into the trash can beside my bed. Take the dildo out of the bag. Put a condom on it because one of the websites I checked said that that makes it easier to clean. Glove up again and begin dousing my butt, and the dildo, with lube.
This time I lie on my back again, but prop my hips up on the pillow. I hold my cock out of the way with my left hand, and position the toy against my hole with the right. The tip of the dildo slides in easily. My hips roll up against it. I pull out a fraction and then press in harder. In and out and in...
I'm panting loudly. Moaning. I finally have the dildo all the way in. I'm pressing the base hard against my ass. It's touching a place inside that has me writhing and yelling. It feels like I'm hooked into a mild electrical current. Regular buzzes of pleasure zap from my ass to my cock and back again.
I can't last long; the sensation is way too strong. I'm gripping my cock hard, pumping up into my fist. Thrusting back down onto the toy. I'm coming in spurts. Spouting into the air, splattering my thighs and belly.
I'm still groaning and writhing on the dildo. I don't want this to end yet. When my breathing and heart rate finally slow to normal, I ease the toy out. I pull it out slowly, shuddering at the lasting pleasure.
Holy shit. Why haven't I done this before?
I had some idea that it would be this noble gesture. I'd let Jim fuck me because, you know, he's special and I trust him and stuff like that. Just my way of letting him know I care. Turns out I like it - who knew?
I try out the dildo a couple times, by which I mean "at every possible moment." Whenever I know Jim won't be in the loft, I whip it out and go to town. After all, I have to make sure the first time wasn't a fluke.
Plus it fucking blows my mind.
I've been distracted all evening thinking about it. I finally bring it up when we're lying in Jim's bed. He's reading some paperback bestseller and I'm half-heartedly paging through an anthropology journal. Finally I give up the pretense, put the magazine on the floor and look at Jim. A few minutes go by before Jim realizes I'm staring on him. He looks up.
"What's on your mind, Chief?" He's watching me, trying to read my expression.
I grab at the opening, take a deep breath and try to sound confident. "I...I want you to fuck me."
I thought that he might bend me over the nearest inanimate object and hammer me senseless as soon as the words "fuck me" passed my lips. It makes for a hot fantasy but I'm not quite ready to experience it first-hand. It's a good thing, because that isn't what happens at all.
At first he just looks at me in that sexy-but-serious way that he has, like he wants to know I won't change my mind later when it's too late. I'm already breathless. Asking for what I want is harder than I expected. I'm feeling a tiny bit of doubt - what if he doesn't want me? What if he says no? And then he smiles.
I love the way Jim's face crinkles up when he smiles. The crow's feet at the corner of his eyes, the laugh lines beside his mouth - he's so incredibly beautiful. So he's smiling at me, and then he leans in close and whispers in my ear, "Anytime."
I'm trembling. Mostly from excitement, but there's some nerves too. He's got a heck of a lot more than a finger-and-a-half to his name, for one thing. For another, I'm still waiting for him to lose control and jump me.
He kisses me instead.
I'm cupping his face in my hands. The tip of his tongue touches my bottom lip and then retreats. His breath sounds loud in my ears. I tilt my head slightly to get a better angle and follow his tongue with my own. Jim murmurs his approval. The chest-deep sound makes me shiver. Under my palms, I feel the muscles in his cheeks stretch as he opens his mouth. I hear myself moan. He takes his time, making the kiss languid and sensual.
I run my fingers through Jim's hair. The buzz cut is surprisingly soft to the touch and it tickles my palm. I do it again. He lifts himself away from me, pressing back into the caress. I open my eyes. Jim's are still closed, eyelashes a dark smudge against his cheeks. His mouth is open and smiling slightly.
I gently smooth his eyebrows and trace his cheekbones. He arches like a cat basking in my touch. Feather-light I touch his lips. He finally opens his eyes to look at me. He licks the sensitive pad of my finger and sucks it into his mouth. He's watching me intently. I let my face show him just how much I like this. His mouth is hot and wet, and I can feel his tongue flexing around my finger as he sucks. I pull him close with my free hand and kiss him. He's licking my fingers and kissing me back and I'm shivering again.
I'm gasping for breath by the time Jim pulls away slightly. I'm lying on my back and he's leaning over me. He's kissing my face, my jaw. He breathes into my hair.
"I'm going to take my time," he says. The words brush the skin beneath my right ear, making me gasp. Jim smiles.
"I'm going to make you wait for it." He says in a throaty murmur against my throat. He flicks his tongue into the groove of my collar bone. I'm gripping fistfuls of cotton sheets and arching my head back to give him access.
Above me I can see patches of night through the skylights. I barely have the breath to moan, "oh fuck." Jim's laugh vibrates through me.
He works his way around to my left ear. "I think," he says softly, "I'll suck you off first." He dips his tongue into my ear and then takes the lobe between his teeth. Sucks for a moment. Lets go.
"After you come in my mouth," he growls, "and you're relaxed..." He pauses to close his teeth on my trapezius muscle. My hips snap up in reaction, fucking the empty air. He soothes the bite with his tongue.
"...I'll open you gently." Jim presses a kiss to my jaw. Another beside my mouth.
"Look at me," he says.
I raise my head slowly. He's leaning over me, so close. Looking intently into my eyes.
"You'll feel yourself stretching around me. Around my cock in your ass." A long shiver quakes through my body and he flashes a wicked grin.
"And then," Jim says, smiling, "I'm going to fuck you." He rocks his hips against my thigh. Presses his erection against me.
"Slowly." He blows the word into my ear. I'm moaning again, pulling him back for another wet, nasty kiss.
Jim buries his hands in my hair and pulls my head back to bare my neck. He's in no hurry and he has me squirming in no time. Each lick, each nip surprises an "ah!" out of me. The brick walls echo back my cries. His tongue rasps against my five o'clock shadow. I'm arching my back and writhing against the sheets.
"I love," Jim growls, "the noises you make." He punctuates the sentence with a string of nibbles down the length of my throat. He sucks on the skin where my neck joins my shoulder. I can tell that he's leaving a mark.
If he keeps doing that, this will all be over in thirty seconds tops. I start to struggle. Jim lets me wrestle him down onto his back. I grab his wrists and pin his arms over his head. He's looking at me with an expression of need and lust. Being held down makes him hot.
I throw my leg over him and straddle his belly. His dick is hard against my ass, but I ignore it for the moment. I'm trying to slow down, draw this out as long as possible. I lean towards him and delicately lick his lip.
It's quiet now except for the soft, wet sounds of kissing. Our tongues slide against each other, deep and slow. I explore the ridged roof of his mouth, the sensitive inside of his lip. We kiss until I'm shuddering and rubbing myself off on his six-pack stomach, still holding his hands above his head. He's thrusting up to meet me. His cock is leaving a hot trail of pre-come on my butt.
And then Jim throws me off and follows me over. He's lying between my legs, holding his weight on his arms. I try to thrust up against him. He lifts himself away in time to the movement. He smiles at my frustrated groan.
"Patience," he says, "is a virtue."
"Fuck!" I thrust up again, and again he moves away. "Please, Jim..." I just want him to fuck me already, but he's back to exploring my body one square centimeter at a time.
By the time he reaches my nipples, my hair is plastered to my sweaty face and I'm moaning continuously.
I'm sobbing long before he wraps his lips around my dick.
He licks my cock, my balls. He takes me into his throat and then backs off. Teases me with his teeth. I'm lightheaded. Desperate for release. He's holding my hips steady so I won't throw him off accidentally. I'm trying to set a rhythm so I can come. Finally Jim lets me move and I heave up into his mouth and shoot down his throat. I can feel his muscles working around me as he swallows.
Aftershocks are still trembling through me when he carefully spreads my legs wide. I'm in an orgasmic haze, totally floating. He wakes me right up by licking my hole. I nearly come up off the bed at the sensation. My shout throbs throughout the open loft.
He's tonguing me and I'm gasping, "oh god oh god oh god."
Jim reaches for the bedside table, coming back with lube and a condom. He tears the small package open and rolls the rubber up his long cock. He squirts some lube into his fist and grabs his dick. He pumps himself casually, watching me through slit eyes. I'm spread out in front of him like a fucking entre. I feel vulnerable and incredibly turned on. He's masturbating for me, putting on a show.
Against all odds, I'm getting hard again.
He takes the lube and squirts more onto his hand and touches me. Starts massaging my hole, slowly working one thick, callused finger inside. My muscles are spasming around him. He waits for my body to adjust, watching my face closely. He keeps working lube into me until it's dribbling down onto the bed.
He waits until I'm relaxed. He waits until I start thrusting against his finger. He waits until I'm rolling my head restlessly on the pillow and making noise.
He waits until I'm begging.
Finally, he squirts more lube on his cock and moves back between my legs. He guides his dick to my hole and presses slightly. The stretch should be painful, but somehow it isn't. He's barely rocking his hips. With each tiny thrust Jim works in another fraction of his dick until he's balls-deep in my ass.
He's bracing his weight on his arms, and they're shuddering with the effort to stay still. He's looking down to where we're joined. Slowly he raises his head.
"God, Blair," he says, and his voice is hoarse. "I can feel your heartbeat." His expression is incredibly open, his face shiny with sweat. I raise my hand to his smooth chest and the skin there is damp too.
"Jesus," I mumble, staring at him. I'm stretched wide around him, puffing for breath. It's a struggle to stay present. To not get lost in this amazing feeling. And then he starts moving.
With each roll of his hips he's hitting that place inside that's sending sparks up my spine. I'm mindlessly thrusting up against him. I think I'm shouting. He sets an easy in and out rhythm, taking it as slowly as possible. His balls softly slap my ass with each in stroke.
Finally, he loses his cool.
He's grunting now with each thrust. Rocking hard against me. The muscles in his arms and chest are shaking. Seizing up. He tips his head back, mouth open in a silent cry. I grab my dick just as Jim goes off. I slide my fist up once, twice, three times and oh, god yeah, that's it. I shudder through my second orgasm. I'm clutching my dick and spraying come on my chest and belly.
I fall asleep. Pretty much instantly. It's a guy thing, but I'm guessing Jim gets that. He should; when I wake up, he's out cold and drooling on my shoulder. As soon as I stretch and get up to pee, he's awake. Nothing like years of guard duty to make you a light sleeper, I guess. I kiss him before shuffling off to the bathroom. I can feel him watching me, probably checking for damage. Or maybe just checking me out, who knows?
When I come back, he's propped up on one elbow and facing the stairs. I don't think he's consciously posing, but my god the man is hot. I slide back under the sheet. Scoot towards him until my back is up against his chest. He puts his arm around me to hold me close.
"Are you okay?" he asks. His voice is husky with sleep. I nod.
"That," I say, "was totally amazing." My body is still humming.
"Yeah?" he asks, sounding curious. I turn to look at him and cock an eyebrow in question. I'm not sure, but it looks like he might be blushing. He squares his jaw and refuses to look away. "I mean," he says, "it sounded like you were enjoying yourself."
I can't keep myself from laughing at this. "Uh, yeah," I snort. "That was the point, man."
He ignores me. "Did the...uh...toy help?" he asks.
My surprise must be showing on my face, because he's laughing now. I recover quickly, school my expression a little and nod. "Yeah. At least I think it did. Why?"
I was right. He is blushing. Why in God's name...? And then I get it.
"Have you ever...?" I ask him, waving my hand in the air between us.
He seems to know what I'm asking. He shakes his head 'no.'
"And you want to try it?"
He nods.
"But you want to practice first?" Another nod. "Hey, man," I tell him, "mi dildo es su dildo. Whatever you want. Because, just for the record, I would love to fuck you, man."
A long shiver moves through his body and he closes his eyes for a second. Nods again. Then he pulls me close again and settles me against his chest. I fall asleep that way, thinking of possibilities.