Oscar - 21. Part 21

Then my life changed.

Mr. Price and I did, until only weeks ago, what I’d believed was only ever going to happen in my wildest of wet dreams.

What I’d wanted him to do to me since I’d first laid eyes on him. What I’d thought about for years. In the classroom. On the sports field. Lying awake at night, beating myself off or simply staring at the grey ceiling, concocting steamy fantasies in my head.

Farfetched little fictions to help me fall asleep.

Stories to convince myself life would get better. That maybe, just maybe, there was a chance something could grow out of the barren wastelands of putrid shit I called home. Something beautiful and exciting and different. Something to make me forget about the kids at school and the cold, dark void left by my parents.

Watching him peel his rugby shorts down his legs, I pinched myself. I had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Because now those farfetched little fictions weren’t so farfetched or fictional anymore.

I can’t believe this is happening.

And the best part? Mr. Price was better than all my hopes and wishes combined.

He rocked my fucking world.

He started on top. Both of us naked. Him kneeling between my legs, picking up my calves and resting them on his shoulders. His smooth muscles almost gold under the dimmed light. Me on my back in the middle of the king-size bed. The expensive white, Egyptian cotton sheets soft against my skin. A plush pillow supporting my head and neck.

My young, toned body his.

Turning his head to the side, he kissed the inside of my thigh a fraction below my knee. His jaw strong and straight. Then he edged closer, until his torso pushed against the backs of my thighs; their position mimicking the perfectly defined V of his wide, hairy six-pack.

His cock on top of mine. His balls against my arse.

A curious thought struck me. Usually I would have crawled onto the bed. Hands and knees. Back arched. Looking behind with an irresistible smile, beckoning whoever it was forward. Then I’d bend my elbows and lower my upper body to make a wedge shape: the best position for maximum power and convenient access. My go-to. But I hadn’t with him.

For two reasons.

The first was that when I said he was a big boy, I meant it. Adam’s cock was longer but Tim’s was thicker. Too much girth to take from any old angle. And legs up mean you can spread them wider. And wider spread legs mean a more flexible hole.

But, comfort aside, there was a more important reason. It didn’t feel right. Mr. Price wasn’t some random hook-up. He wasn’t some guy I’d met online who’d told me to be waiting arse up and face down.

He was more than that. He was literally a dream come true and I wanted to watch every real second. See all the action.

‘You’ve got to stop looking at me like that,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘Or what?’

‘Or else I’ll blow in about two seconds.’

‘I’m sure you can handle it, sir,’ I said, sticking out my tongue.

He shook his head again. Quickly. Made a noise. Grunted like a rugby player psyching himself up before a game.

‘Open the drawer,’ he said, nodding toward the bedside table.

His hands were busy. Stroking. One up and down his own rock-solid shaft. The other up and down mine, making my balls tingle and my pre-cum dribble up and out and onto the side of his index finger curled around me.

Reaching over I felt my way until the metal knob of the bedside table chilled my fingertips. Pulling open the drawer I lowered my hand inside like one of those toy crane machines you get at fairs or service stations. Found what he wanted.

Condoms and lube. Crinkle-cut-edged plastic squares and a small plastic tube. Picking them up slowly I brought my hand up and back around and placed the contents on my chest. Never once breaking eye contact.

I reached out again and the drawer closed shut with a gentle clap of wood on wood.

Bending forward he kissed me, testing my flexibility at the same time. He pushed my legs down with his body until the fronts of my thighs met my abs and pecs and my knees were in line with my shoulders; the plastic pump tube of lubricant digging into our chests.

His tongue buried itself inside my mouth and his elbows came to rest either side of my head. Our cocks grinding. Our breath and scents mingling. Sweat and beer and boys.

Slowly pushing himself back, he picked up a condom from between my pecs. Placed the top edge between his teeth and ripped it open in one, slick movement. Then he discarded the wrapper and peeled the thin, glossy latex around himself. I didn’t recognise the brand but I caught a glimpse of the size: XL.

He still had to stretch it open with two thumbs.

Then came the chill of lube. Water-based and cold against my hot hole. But soon warmer and warmer as his masterful fingers smeared it around and inside. Preparing me for the burn we both knew was coming.

‘Go slow,’ I said.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Just to begin with.’

He nodded. Bent over me again. Lifted my arms and placed them around his neck. Slid his left hand, palm-up, under my back and between my shoulder blades and higher. Wrapped his fingers around my neck. Tight but not uncomfortable. Supported me and himself.

Then he kissed me.

Once. Twice. And on the third time he reached down with his free hand. Positioned the head of his cock against my hole as our lips touched. Pushed his tongue inside my mouth and let gravity and his body weight do the rest.

Pain seared through me fast like lightening. Striking hot but not unbearable. There was enough pleasure racing through my body, and excitement electrifying the air, to balance it out.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to relax. Moaned into the darkness as he inched further inside, stretching me wider than any man or toy before him.

‘Open your eyes,’ he said gently, squeezing my neck and reaching his other hand to my arse, pulling my cheeks open wider.

I did as I was told. Opened my eyes slowly. Stared at him on top of me. Covering me completely. My jaw hanging an inch. My breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

‘Beautiful,’ he said, pushing further.

The pain kept coming. It rippled through me like a wave. Not crashing violently, but ebbing and flowing. Within ten seconds, I was lost in his deep, dark eyes and the weight of his body and the slow, steady rhythm of his gentle thrusts. Then the pain disappeared, morphing into a body-shuddering, eye-rolling ecstasy.

He saw it, plastered across my face. No more wincing. Big smile. Then he shifted his position a little. A slight but expert movement. He pulled himself up, towards the headboard, while simultaneously rolling his hips and pulling out of me to the tip.

At the same time, keeping one arm wrapped around his thick neck, I reached down and around his body. Traced the two ridges of hard muscle down his back to his arse. Placed my hand on a superb cheek. Gave it a quick squeeze and pulled him towards me, just as he rolled his body and thrusted back.

All the way to the base.

My body convulsed under him. My legs shook. My toes curled. My hole clamped tight, squeezing a moan out of his throat and filling my cock with so much blood, for a second, I thought I was going to unload hands-free. Then we kissed, hard and deep and passionately, as he held himself inside. Grinding his body against mine to ensure every inch of him was covered.

‘Good boy,’ he said, sliding back out and in again. ‘Very good boy.’

I wanted to thank him. Thank sir for being so good to me. But I couldn’t speak. My words weren’t working. My brain was too busy being flooded with dopamine. So I nodded wildly instead. Gestured with my mouth and tongue for a kiss. Got what I wanted.

We kept kissing while he built his rhythm. And not just any wham-bam-in-and-out. Mr. Price was building the perfect rhythm with the perfect beat on the perfect instrument. His body, his bed and an outstanding balance of weight, force and timing. As he thrust he held me so my own body rocked back and forth. Back as he pulled out. Forth as he pushed in.

Phenomenal.

Then he increased speed. Slowly but surely. Faster and faster until he was fucking me just quicker than one full movement a second. His body slamming against me. Skin slapping against skin. The tempo held, kept steady like a philharmonic conductor.

Devoted to his craft.

He showed no signs of tiring or slowing down. None. Just kept going with eyes glued on mine. His breath controlled and even, heating my face as his sheets caressed my back. His hands now wrapped around the sides of my head. Beads of sweat glistening across his forehead under the moody light above us.

I watched them form. Fascinated. Wanted them to drip onto me. Onto my face and into my mouth so I could taste more of him.

It wasn’t until we were both groaning loudly into the room around us did he have to catch his breath.

‘Wow,’ I said, catching my own. ‘I’m so close.’

He smirked.

‘Too soon,’ he said, placing his hands on the back of my knees and pushing himself up to kneeling.

He looked down at the sight in front of him. I couldn’t see but I could imagine what he saw. His cock, long and thick and hard and still inside my hairless, tight arse.

‘Let’s change position,’ he said.

Pulling out the final few inches, he let go of my legs and wiped his face with his forearm. Took hold of my ankle and flipped me over onto my front, but kept me a little twisted so I could look back. One knee up by my chest, the other down the bed. Him still kneeling.

I bit my lower lip as he slid back in. Then he placed both of his hands on my hip. Pulled me into him as he pushed. Deep and intense. Over and over against my prostate, slow and controlled but brutal.

Then came doggy. First him kneeling behind me on the mattress. Still slow and controlled. Me taking the reins: bouncing myself up and down as he rested. Hands on his waist, sweat dripping off him and onto my back and arse. Then he pulled out again. Yanked me down the bed. Stood. Continued. Faster and harder until he folded over, panting and gasping for breath.

And believe me, that took a long time.

We were back to our original position when we were ready. Neither of us spoke but we could feel it. See it. Sense it in each other. His rhythm was on point. His thrusts were deep. Our eyes were locked and our breath and moans and grunts were in harmony.

Throwing his head back, he took in a sharp breath. Moaned, but not drawn out. Quick and uncontrollable. Then again. And again. Signs as clear as day.

Lulling my own rocking head back onto the pillow I looked down, over my nose, to his face. His mouth was wide open. His breath was fast. Our bodies were shaking and trembling as his endless beat pounded.

Faster and faster and faster.

Taking hold of myself I jerked off. Same speed. Same acceleration. But my balls were already filling and contracting, seconds away from emptying their cargo. It was still too soon. I wanted us to cum together.

I let go. Threw my arms around his neck. Pulled him in. Thrust my tongue into his open mouth.

No good. I’d already crossed the point of no return and my load was on its way.

Luckily, so was his.

‘I’m going to cum,’ he groaned, millimetres from my mouth; our foreheads crushed tight up against each other, hot and slippery but fixed in place like a bridge between our bodies.

‘Me too.’

‘Good boy. Good boy!’

My fingers dug into his shoulders. His huge arms held us both up. Then we came. Him inside me, filling the latex bubble so full I could feel it. Me all over my stomach and up to my nipples. Finally blasting out, no hands, like a geyser.

He stayed inside for a long time. Panting and dripping and kissing my mouth and neck and head. When we finally separated he balled up the condom in some tissue. Placed it on his bedside table, rolled back and spooned me.

Him big. Me small. Our sweat gluing us together. Everything blissful. Everything beautiful. Everything different than before.

Until I opened my big fucking mouth.