Wolf Like Me - 4. *insert gratuitously suggestive chapter title here*

Part One – Surprisingly Tasty

People packed the balcony and player’s lounge. It was on the ass-end of July, but the coaches finally had the freshmen in good enough shape to bring them into the fold, or had weeded out those who wouldn’t work on the team. To celebrate, they were hosting a massive barbeque in the locker complex. The team and coaches were all here, along with some good ol’ boy alumni with deep pockets and select members of the press. Thus, we all had to look presentable and act like our mothers taught us manners.

I was coming out of my redshirt season, which generated some interest around me. However, most of the attention centered on Cory, who left Freshmen Camp weeks ahead of the others. It was all anyone could talk about. The coaches announced today that he would be playing with the team this fall, the only freshman without a redshirt. He was a natural with crowds, so everyone wanted to talk to him, and I couldn’t even begrudge him that.

He wore his glasses today, which seemed to draw more attention to his eyes rather than hiding them. A couple times, our eyes met and he grinned at me. I’d grin back at him. Then I’d feel really stupid for how attracted I was to him and that just made me cranky and irritable.

At the moment, he and Rice were convincing a bunch of people to put weird shit on fruit. Cory’s mother sent him a care package that contained – among five more pairs of Converse – some Mexican candies and a bottle of chamoy, this blood red condiment that looked rather revolting. Apparently, it went on everything, including watermelon, which was in no short supply here. Both guys had plastic cups packed with the fruit and doused in chamoy and some chili-lime salt called Tajin. I was their next target.

“Dude, seriously,” Rice said. He’d already tried to get me to eat it a couple times already. “Just try it.”

Cory speared a piece of melon on his fork and waved it in my face. A drop of chamoy fell off and plopped wetly on the concrete. Good thing we were outside or Vuis would pitch a fit.

“Come on, Efrain. You know you want to.”

I knew I wanted to do a lot of things. They all involved things he wouldn’t like. But, the kid says my name with that taunting voice and good boy grin, and suddenly I couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine.” I bit the fruit off his fork and immediately wished I hadn’t. This weird mix of salty, sweet, and spicy, I swore there was this kind of pickled flavor somewhere.

“Oh, I ask you three times, but the first time Card says something…”

I was probably more infatuated with Cory than I should be, but I seriously did not do everything he asked me to. I finished chewing and tried to swallow, if only to defend myself. Yet, the longer it was in my mouth…

“Huh, that’s actually pretty good.”

Cory turned to Rice.

“I told you I could get him to eat it. You owe me lunch.”

“Dammit, Garza,” Rice swore.

I should have felt offended at being tricked, but Cory beamed at me and shoved more sauced fruit in his mouth and my indignation slipped away under that deep blue gaze. Thankfully, Rice led him off to sucker in more teammates before I lost my wits completely.

~*~*~*~

Nope, wits were completely lost.

The last time I boned up in the locker room was early high school. There I was, just minding my own fucking business, when oh hey, guys, this is my penis. I wasn’t even looking at the other boys, my dick just made a grab for attention in a room full of guys in various states of undress. Of course it was embarrassing, but I wasn’t the only one it happened to, so it didn’t matter to anyone. My dick was just doing what adolescent dicks do.

If only I could still use that excuse.

Okay, it wasn’t like I was actively creeping on my straight teammate. I just happened to see Cory, out the corner of my eye, coming out of the showers, towel around his waist and water still clinging to his chest. His upper body was a full expanse of tight, rippling muscle, with just enough body fat to keep him from looking too hard and veiny. He took another towel and started drying his hair.

And that’s when the towel around his hips slipped off.

I looked away and focused on getting my shorts on.

“Damn, Card,” I heard Teague say. “Are you sure you aren’t black, too?”

Against my better judgement, I looked over. Lithgow and Cory gave him almost identical flat stares. Cory held the towel in front of his crotch, but the entire length of his powerful legs were exposed. All of it, from trim ankle to the rounded swell of his ass covered in blonde hair so fair as to be non-existent, burned into my eyes before I had the good sense to look elsewhere. I got my shirt over my head and tried not to think about the blood rushing to my dick.

“Could you be less weird, Teague?”

I dealt with my embarrassment the same way I dealt with any other emotion I didn’t like.

“Oh, lay off him, Lithgow. When you’re that small, every dick is monstrous.”

“Fuck, we must be talking micro-peen,” Lithgow said. “If the size of Card’s truck is any indication, it can’t be that big.”

“Vehicle size seems like a poor measure,” Cory reasoned. “Or, else you’d need a semi.”

“Damn, Lithgow,” said one of the guys on the other side of their section. “I think the trainers might have some cream for that burn.”

Card smirked. He set down his towel and started stepping into his underwear – these cute short boxer briefs he called “trunks.” I tried and failed to not look at what was nestled in his light brown pubic hair. Even flaccid, I could tell that he didn’t need to compensate for anything.

“So, is everyone done creeping on my dick?” He looked at each of us, before including the guys in the lockers behind him. “You guys good?”

“Great,” he said when no one offered an argument. Then, he turned to pull on the rest of his clothes.

“It seems that we have been dismissed, gentlemen,” I said and walked off before I really embarrassed myself.

On my way out of the locker complex, Vuis stopped me to talk about my progress.

“You’ve grown a lot, son. It was good thinking to put Card on your ass.”

I realized that’s when all this started. That first tackle. Fuck you, well-meaning coach. It was all I could do to say something polite and leave. I’d been pushing myself lately, mainly to keep up with Cory, but it had paid off. I just wished the price wasn’t so steep.

On the way to the bus stop, I started messing with Grindr. I lost interest in hooking up a month or so ago, which might be why I was panting after Cory. I just needed to get balls deep in someone’s ass, that’s all. Once I satisfied that urge, his rolling r and slate-blue eyes and…fucking hell.

I spent the whole bus ride discreetly swiping through matches and pretending that my hard-on was from the pictures on my phone and not a certain baby-faced lineman with delicious thighs and glistening pecs.

I had a date before I reached my house.

~*~*~*~

Sleep, eat, practice, creep on Cory, fuck some random guy, sleep, eat, practice, accidentally flirt with Cory and hope he doesn’t notice, fuck some random guy, sleep, eat, practice, spend an entire night chatting with Cory at a party, fuck some random guy that kinda looked like him, sleep, eat…

I threw myself into football and fucking around, but my mind kept going back to Cory. I probably wouldn’t want him as much if I could just have him. Men didn’t keep my interest long after the first fuck and it was rare for guys to last more than a week. It was really for the best that he was straight, otherwise it would mess with our friendship. I liked him. I liked hanging around him. I just wished my dick would get with the program.

But, it wouldn’t.

And thus, I was looking up pictures of him on Facebook. The recent ones from hanging out with the team all the way back to stuff from when he was in high school. There were the ones of us dancing with Marina and her friends that, let’s be honest, I’d already jerked off to a couple times. Ones of him in his practice uniform. Ones of him laughing with me at parties. I probably liked those more than the professionally done press photos.

I kept going back in his feed. Pictures of Cory playing football with his high school team. Pictures of him with old friends at homecoming in football jerseys and these weird garters over their biceps that were weighted down with ribbons in their school colors reaching down to their hands. They were so heavy with all the bells and whistles (no, literally, bells and whistles), that I didn’t know how they kept them from falling down. He wasn’t the Homecoming King, but he should have been. Even without the muscle definition he currently boasted, he was still fucking hot.

And further on. Cory with longer hair. Cory with shorter hair. Cory in a cowboy hat and boots. Cory in swim trunks. Cory when he still had braces. Cory sending his brothers off to college.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. As much as I wanted to deny it, I had it bad. I managed to make it this far without losing my shit over a teammate, yet here I was lusting over pictures of my straight teammate’s 15-year old self in his soccer uniform like a fucking idiot. I thought I’d be safer creep-stalking him in the living room, where I couldn’t immediately whip out my cock and start pumping, but the urge was just as strong.

I was at my limit when I finally noticed his profile information. All at once his “column A, column B” comment made sense. Why didn’t I notice this before? I suddenly felt like shouting.

Then, Indie stumbled in, drunk and rambling about how he fucked up.

~*~*~*~

Part Two - Warming Up

I hurried down the hall to Cory’s dorm suite, looking like my usual cute self in a polo-shirt and rolled-up jeans. I knocked on his door and he called that it was open.

When I walked in, he was sitting on the common room sofa with his laptop open on the coffee table. I didn’t even let him get a word in before I bounced onto the seat next to him and started in with my carefully rehearsed speech.

“So, we need to make leggings a thing. Or not even leggings, like a legging equivalent. By the way, you look hot in glasses. You should wear glasses more. You know there are some basic bitches who wear leggings when they really shouldn’t. I could totally pull off leggings. We got manbuns. Manbuns are a thing. Your roomie, Fabio, totally has a manbun. It’s cute. Leggings are like the next logical leap. Come on, man, leggings! Leeee-eeee-eeee-eeeeggiiii-iiii-iiii-iiiings.” I gripped his shoulders and shook him on each added syllable.

“How much coffee did you have?”

“Not enough,” I said as I hung off his neck. “Oh, speaking of roommates. I know you said no. Well, your exact words were Hell fucking no, Cumdumpster. But I digress. Anyhow, I still think you should let me turn one of your roommates gay. Or at least partially gay. Just have to identify the most likely candidate. Maybe I should turn all of them. That would be fun.”

Cory pinched the bridge of his nose and I heard a peal of laughter from the laptop. His entirely too bangable best friend was laughing his ass off in an open Skype window.

“Your roommates are there, aren’t they?” he asked.

“All of them.”

I looked up. The gloriously golden Al (he of the manbun) was in the kitchenette with a spoonful of cereal frozen mid-way between his bowl and his mouth. The other two, the very cute Romero and the darkly handsome Gio, looked out from their respective rooms. I smiled charmingly and waved.

“Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Preston,” Keenan said. We’ve chatted via comments on Facebook, but this was the first time I’d heard his voice and it was making me a little wet.

“Hey, Cutestuff.”

“So, what are you calling Cory this week?”

“The Dread Pirate Blueballs,” I said in my most dramatic and serious voice. Al choked on a bite of cereal. My little pet names for Cory had become a thing now. Kiley, wonderful box-eating Kiley, even let me add it to the GSA minutes. Seriously. The words Secretary Preston James Finnegan motions that Member Cory Frederick Card be known as The Dread Pirate Blueballs until otherwise decided were on the official record. It was quickly seconded and granted, despite Cory’s objections.

“I have to hear this,” Gio came out and eagerly plopped down in one of the armchairs. Cory told me about “Tex,” and now that these three were in on my name game, I imagine that he regretted it.

“So, last Friday, we were at this party, see, and Blueballs has been chasing his TA all over the place.”

“Professor Collins’ TA?” Romero moved from the doorway, grabbed one of the chairs from the breakfast bar, and sat in it backwards. Hmmm….there was nothing hotter than manspreading.

“Yup.”

“Wait, which one? Mike Tran or Indie Norman?”

“The tall one with blue hair.”

“Seriously?”

“Yessir. So, our main man here manages to pin him down in Kiley’s room.”

Cory dropped his face into his hands.

“Could you not tell them this?”

“And they’re all over each other.”

“I was not all over him.”

“Norman?” Romero asked in a disbelieving voice.

“Yep, turns out he has a ten-inch dick.”

“That guy?”

“I wasn’t exactly able to measure,” Cory answered, his forehead resting on his fist like he was The Thinker or something. His cheeks were an adorable shade of red. “But, he’s hung like a horse.”

Romero’s face was stuck somewhere between awe and horror.

“So, yeah, Blueballs is facing off with the Asswrecker.” The guys got a kick out of that. I think I have a small talent for these names. “But guess who ends up running off with his tail between his legs.”

“No shit,” said Keenan from the laptop.

“So, Cory struck out with Mr. Freeze.” Damn, Gio wasn’t too bad with nicknames.

“Bitch is colder than Elsa,” I confirmed. “Poor guy is like would you like to build a snowman? and that ice queen was like nope!”

“Whatever. He probably had a reason,” Cory said, bravely putting up a confident front despite the crushing rejection he suffered. My little trooper. I pressed his face to my chest and stroked his hair. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“Come on, Anna,” I said soothingly. “Let’s go bait bears at the gay bar.”

Al looked confused. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“No,” Cory answered, quickly cutting me off. “No, you don’t.”

~*~*~*~

I got all of a weekend to be bummed out about Indie. Just two days to feel sorry for myself.

Then I had my hands full with Efrain.

I’d been hanging out with him a lot for the past few weeks. He said he liked chilling with me because I was the only one who could pronounce his first name (“I told those assholes ‘It’s Ef-RYE-een, motherfucker’ but they still don’t get it!”). I liked his dark humor, and it didn’t hurt that Efrain was nice to look at.

Okay, “nice to look at” was understating it, the man was fucking hot as hell. Like ten times hotter than Indie. He was beautiful from top to bottom, and I was a sucker for his eyes. He’s all dark features and rugged lines, making his gaze – shifting somewhere between light green and gold – that much more striking.

Then, there was his mouth. The gods made that mouth, then wept that it would never touch the cocks of god or mortal. In my weaker moments, the way his mouth curved into that easy wolfish grin of his made the blood rush to my groin.

And that part had become more of an issue lately. I knew I was just deluding himself, but since the Indie incident it felt like there had been more to the casual joking; more and more it felt like flirting. It wasn’t even a gradual change. I guess getting shot down by Indie hit me harder than I let on.

In any case, I was pretty sure that Efrain wouldn’t joke with me the same if he knew I liked men. Yet, whether or not he was aware of what he did to my head, the effect was the same. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, which had led to my rising dilemma.

Efrain had already showered and changed after today’s practice, yet lingered to joke around with Teague and Lithgow. This was fine most of the time, but I was finding it harder to hide the way Efrain affected me, and sometimes the fact that we were in a room full of other guys changing in or out of their practice uniforms made the effect stronger. His deep voice made me flush enough; meeting his eyes, or remembering what he looked like under his clothes (sneaking a peek was the worst idea ever), would undo me.

I liked Efrain, even in the platonic not-trying-to-fuck-him sense, and I really wasn’t trying to fuck him. But, could he have some sense of self-preservation for fuck’s sake?

When I finished getting dressed and headed out, he fell in step with me. I let myself relax only when we reached the atrium.

“Well, this sucks.” Efrain gestured to the glass doors where a light drizzle fell on the other side.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Unless you have a half-hour wait for the next bus.”

“Your fault for living in the suburbs.”

“Hey, I don’t live that far.”

I shrugged. “My truck’s only two blocks away, if you want a ride.” It would take me well out of my way to get there, but I’d never been out to the house he shared with two older students and I was kinda curious.

Efrain accepted my offer and followed me to the parking lot. Light summer rain had given way to heavy summer deluge before we could make it there.

“Fuck, if you didn’t take so damn long in the shower,” Efrain laughed as we jumped in. “I’d be standing out there like a jackass when that hit.”

We remained quiet while the cab warmed up and we gradually stopped shivering. Even with him getting soaked, I could smell his cologne – YSL La Nuit De L’Homme. Some random chick gave it to him last season, hoping to get in his pants, but the dark notes fit him perfectly and he’d worn it ever since. He smelled so good that I was semi-erect before we made it off campus.

Suddenly, Efrain turned in his seat and turned down the stereo.

“Okay, so get this,” he began. “A couple weeks ago, my roommate, Indie, comes home…”

“Indie?”

“Yeah, Indie Norman. Grad student, glasses, blue hair, tons of piercings, tall as fuck,” Efrain answered and my stomach dropped. “So, he comes home plastered, bitching about how he wasted the whole night at this party fooling around with some freshman football player.”

“Oh?” Shit shit shit shit shit

“Apparently, the guy had cornered him in a bedroom,” he continued, as if he was letting me in on some great big conspiracy. “They were totally down to fuck, too. But, the guy turned out to be bi and Indie has this fucking lame ass hang-up about men who are bi.”

I remained silent, remembering the teasing and flirting, the questing fingers and tongues, the sudden shitty excuse about grading some fucking term papers that left me high and dry.

“He asked if you really were on the team.”

“Me? Why’d you think it’s me?”

Efrain arched an eyebrow. “He showed me a picture.”

“Oh.” Caught. “So, why’d he want to know that?”

“Curious, really. Plus, he and I seem to lust after the same guys, so if he noticed you, he assumed I’m trying to hit it.”

I hit the brakes harder than I meant to.

“What?” I turned to find the other man grinning wickedly.

“Indie and I have similar tastes – blonde, blue-eyed, muscle twinks.”

I barked out a laugh as I turned the truck into the neighborhood.

“The fuck is a muscle twink?”

“The kind that I like to make cry.”

I tried to ignore how tight my trunks suddenly felt.

“Seriously? Like tears and all that shit?”

“Nah. Nothing like that. Like cumming so hard you can’t control how loud you are.” Efrain explained. “Although, making a guy loud and weepy would be interesting.”

“We need to get you some better pick-up lines.”

I pulled into his driveway and put the truck in park. With the rain continuing to pound against the windows, the truck felt too confining, the man in the passenger seat too close for me to keep calm. I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Most guys who brag about that kinda stuff seem to be the least likely to actually deliver,” I bluffed. While I lost my virginity to a girl in middle school, it took me all the way to junior year to get in bed with a guy. My experience with men was pretty limited.

“That sounded like a challenge.”

“And that sounded like a waste of time.” I sat back and turned toward Efrain, trying really hard to sound bored and totally over it, only so I wouldn’t sound completely desperate for him to try. “I’m sure there’s a point to this.”

“There is,” he said simply. And with that, he leaned over the center console, bringing his full, generous mouth close enough to brush against mine as he spoke. “I want to make you cry.”

Lame ass pick-up line or not, a small shiver ran up my spine as Efrain took my mouth, nibbling my lips and drawing me deeper into the kiss until it made both of us breathless. His hand tickled up my inner thigh, finding the erection straining the front of my jeans. He teased me while his tongue invaded my mouth. A moan escaped my throat, and I gripped the sides of my seat to keep from grabbing him.

He broke off the kiss and pulled back far enough to meet my gaze. The naked lust in his hazel eyes warmed me all the way down to my toes.

“Come in with me.” It seemed more command than request. “We’ll get soaked, but I have a shower big enough to fuck in while we warm up.”

I didn’t trust myself to respond, and instead killed the engine and removed the keys from the ignition. We opened our respective car door and made a run for the house. He opened the front door and pulled me inside, then pinned me against the wall with his body. Here, our kissing became more aggressive and insistent. Hands franticly peeled off sodden clothing, forming a trail as Efrain guided me back to his room.

Once in his room, he went to pull something from his nightstand, leaving me shivering, nervous, and wearing nothing but my trunks in the middle of the room.

“The master suite, huh.”

“It happened to be the room open when I moved in,” he shrugged. He took me by the hand and led me into the adjoining bathroom. He was carrying a small black bottle and some condoms in his other hand.

“Water-based lube in a shower? Sounds super effective,” I joked. My lust-hazy thoughts were finally starting to wrap themselves around the developments of the past half hour and it was making me a little light-headed.

“Nope, silicone.” Efrain reached in the shower to set both items down on a small bench and turn on the water. Satisfied, he turned back and tugged at my hand. I stepped in to him and melted into his body. His tongue explored my mouth while we shed the last bits of clothing. Now that the room was starting to warm up, I felt the blood pooling in my groin again and signs of his arousal pressing against my thigh.

While Efrain licked and nibbled down my neck and shoulder, I admired his body. Dark skin stretched over tightly corded muscles, with a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, forearms, and legs, and a trail of hair from his navel down – a nice contrast to my own bulkier muscle mass and sparse body hair. The cut of his obliques and abs angled down into a thatch of dark curly hair from which his long, thick cock proudly stood. While he dug his fingers into my rounded ass, I wrapped my fingers around his dick.

Efrain yelped.

“Your hands are fucking freezing.”

I chuckled a little and apologized. “Think the water is warm enough?” I pulled away to step inside. He wasn’t kidding about the size of the thing. You couldn’t lay down in it, but there was plenty enough room to bend someone over. Hot water flowed out of two showerheads, hitting my body from two different directions. A third handheld showerhead that could be turned on separately hung on the wall. He entered behind me.

“Nevermind about your hands.” He placed his hands (which were also cold) on my hips and rubbed his cock against my ass. “Goddamn, your ass is fuckable.”

Goosebumps tightened my skin.

“Is that how you’re gonna make me cry?”

Efrain brushed his lips against my earlobe. “I have my methods,” he rumbled in a voice that made my cock throb and my nipples harden. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of my ear.

“You have methods?” I mocked as he nibbled the side of my neck and shoulder. “Seems like all you’ve done so far is tease.”

“Is that so?” Efrain abruptly turned me around, and shoved me against the cold tile wall. He licked and bit a trail from neck to abdomen while he lowered himself down onto his knees. “So, no teasing, huh?” His mouth played with the head of my dick, nipping at the glans and toying with the frenulum with his tongue. “Not even this kind?”

“That’s tolerable.” I was still trying to maintain a poker face, but my voice faltered when Efrain slid his tongue around the head. I barely noticed when Efrain picked up the little black bottle until his slicked fingers began drawing lazy circles between my cheeks. He slid the other hand behind my knee to bend the leg and guide my foot onto the corner bench.

Fingers continued to rub in little circles from right behind my balls all the way back to press firmly against my hole. I struggled to hide how much I wanted to moan. The mouth on my cock continued to draw me in. Efrain’s hazel eyes locked with mine and he slid the very tip of his finger inside.

“Fuck,” I let out in a shuddering breath, giving up my bluffing pretense. Efrain worked in deeper, plying open my ass, letting my now rocking hips work my cock further between his lips. “Fuck,” I moaned again, repeating the word over and over as Efrain lightly grinded his knuckles against my sensitive ass. I arched my back, adding my own resistance to the grinding. He pulled back his finger enough to begin working in a second up to the knuckles before slowly fucking me on his fingers.

As fingers worked, his mouth stayed busy on my dick. I thought I gave great head, and thought I’d received it too, but Efrain was something else. Nipping and nibbling with his lips, teasing with both the tip and the flat of his tongue, alternating between shallow and deep throating. My 7 inches wasn’t exactly monstrous, but it wasn’t small either, yet he still got the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. I knew I wouldn’t be able to return that favor, especially since he was definitely larger than me.

Randomly, he paused and held me between his teeth, firm enough for the sensation to register. Everything I’d ever read or have been told on the matter absolutely forbid teeth during oral, and I’d had enough experience with bad blowjobs to know how much it hurt when teeth slipped, but, God, if I didn’t moan louder each time Efrain used his. And he performed like he knew I was watching, catching my gaze as he bit, licked, teased. Between his skilled hands and mouth, and the sight of the man working his own dick with his free hand, I felt like exploding. I wanted to cum so bad, but I didn’t want this to end.

“I’m getting close,” I panted. “Dial it back some.”

Efrain looked up, my twitching dick between his teeth, and cocked his eyebrow. His free hand moved up between my legs, and I felt him press firmly behind my balls. Then, he attacked, working me harder with fingers and mouth, bringing me closer to climax. I tilted back my head and braced my shoulders against the tile wall, thrusting my hips forward. I clenched my teeth, ragged breaths hissing between, feeling the throbbing coil tighter and tighter. I couldn’t even gather my wits enough to warn him.

I broke hard, somehow cumming and not cumming. A climax without the release of ejaculation. I felt like I’d imploded when everything had been fighting to fling itself outward. Suddenly weak-kneed, I threw out my hands to catch myself on the small inset shelves on either side, sending bottles and soap crashing. I moved my foot off the bench and slid to the ground.

Efrain moved up between my knees, kissing me and stroking my abs, which were still contracting from the force of my orgasm.

“That was fun to watch.”

“Fuck! What did you do to me?”

“Pressure point. You’ll still orgasm, but without the cum,” he explained between kisses. “I told you I had my methods.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You were trying really hard not to.” I had to concede that point. “Also, I’m not done yet, and” he tapped my still hard cock with his finger, making me gasp. “Neither are you.” He sat back and drew me onto his lap. I watched as he unwrapped a condom and rolled it down his dick before adding lube.

Efrain lifted my hips and lined up his cock. He rubbed there, as he had with his fingers, distributing lubricant and relaxing my hole. Still sensitive from my orgasm, the feel of his member between my cheeks drew forth more shuddering moans and gasps.

Satisfied, Efrain positioned himself against my ass. “Ready?”

Unable to speak coherently, I simply nodded and braced my hands on his shoulders. He carefully eased me down on his cock, murmuring “good boy” in my ear. Shit like that should feel demeaning, but my dick jumped and I whimpered every time he said it.

“Take it just like that,” he panted in my ear. “Good boy. Don’t rush.”

I shivered and clenched around the dick slowly stretching me open until he bottomed out. By that time, I already felt like I could blow at any minute. Efrain gave me some time to adjust to his length and girth, gently massaging where my ass held him with still lubed up fingers.

“You’re fucking tight,” he murmured. Arousal deepened his voice and his breathing was heavier – he was feeling this as much as I was. My ass spasmed around him. “You sure I’m not hurting you?”

I shook my head. It hurt a little, it’d been a while since I’d had something in my ass and nothing as big as him, but the ache felt indescribably good.

His fingers teased my ass some more before he lifted my hips, sliding himself almost entirely out. He eased me back down in one slow, fluid thrust. I let out a moan that lasted from tip to base, and he repeated the move. He continued rolling me up and down the length of his dick until I picked up the rhythm.

I rode Efrain, feeling things getting tight inside of me. The sounds of our mingling gasps and moans made me bold. I wanted to pay him back for how much he’d made me squirm. I wanted him to feel me more. I thrust down hard, bringing out a clenched-jaw growl from Efrain. I made him squirm all right, but the angle thrust him over a sensitive spot in just the right way, and I ended up feeling it more than he did. I cried out, head thrown back, back arched, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That hurt you more than it hurt me, huh?” he chuckled between panting breaths. He dug his own fingers into my ass, spreading me apart. He wasn’t bothering with pretense. He was into what I was doing to him and not afraid to let me know.

“Keep moving,” he growled and drove my hips into a hard thrusting pace, moaning and murmuring in my ear about how much of a good boy I was for giving him my ass. He grabbed my dick and let the thrusting move his hand along the shaft.

My continued cries accented the wet slapping as my ass hit his hard thighs. As my climax mounted, the only way to let off the excess pressure was to scream louder and louder. My voice rose and echoed through the small room as I drove myself harder down his cock. I broke in waves, cum spilling over his hand, crying out until my voice gave out.

Efrain wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed me on still. He grabbed my shoulder between his teeth, the bite sinking into my skin as his own orgasm took him. The pain from the bite and the feel of Efrain’s spasms triggered aftershocks, and I clenched and shuddered around his throbbing dick. Even with how loud I’d been earlier, my voice still rose in octaves as I moaned. I rocked my hips against him; my still twitching dick rubbed against the man’s abs. I couldn’t tell how long we fed off each other’s orgasms, prolonging the climax until we both wound down.

I was barely able to move, but I managed to disentangle from Efrain and ease myself off. I sat next to him, knees drawn up, shivering despite the warm water pouring over me from two separate showerheads. My hips ached. The water stung where he had bitten me; most likely, he had broken the skin. I whimpered when a final aftershock hit.

“Holy fuck,” I whispered, my voice too raw and broken for anything else.

“I was not expecting that.” Efrain shifted himself over to sit closer to me. He looked as shocked as I felt. He slipped his arm around my waist and let me rest my head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I agreed weakly and then passed the fuck out.

~*~*~*~

I woke up with a sore ass and a sore throat in a bed I didn’t recognize.

Efrain took care of me after he fucked me into oblivion. A bandage covered my shoulder. The contents of my pockets sat on the nightstand in front of me. Under them were the clothes he had pulled off me earlier. They smelled like fresh laundry.

The man himself laid next to me, curled up against my back, an arm flung over my waist holding me tight.

“Fuck, is it going to be like that every time?” he murmured, noticing that I had woken up.

“God, I fucking hope so.”

As I settled down to go back to sleep, I realized that I rather liked being made to cry.

~*~*~*~