The Cupid Cuddler

Chapter 1

Sure, I was lonely—horny—and craved hot, exciting sex.

But to be honest, I had no “game,” and my introversion prevented me from trying too hard.

The few times I managed to coax myself into a club, it never seemed to end well.

I had my fair share of dates when I first came to the city—I’m good-looking enough to draw attention—but no real connections.

I started going out less until I was practically a recluse.

No problem. I had toys—and a surplus of batteries.

Still… one can’t help but crave a flesh-and-blood c*** now and then, attached to a hard-bodied, hot man who knows how to f***.

But that was mostly fantasy at that point.

Then one night, that fantasy came to life in the most disturbing and, dare I say, exciting way—with no effort whatsoever from me. Perfect.

He came, we came, and I… let it happen?

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my choice, but I digress.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a warm body spooning me.

A man. A naked man. I didn’t hear him come into my house.

I don’t know how he got in—upon later inspection, there were no signs of forced entry—he was just there.

Though I was sure there would be a “forced entry” by the size and hardness of his cock nestled boldly against my ass.

My naked ass. I’d slept nude since I was a teenager.

No pajamas, not even underwear. Clothes felt restricting in bed.

On this particular night, I was wishing for a pair of briefs, at the very least. But it wouldn’t have mattered—if he wanted to ravage me, some flimsy underwear wouldn’t have stopped him.

I tried not to let on that I was awake, yet the sudden stiffness in my body gave it away.

I was like a board beneath the blanket. Any sudden movements, and my bones would’ve surely snapped.

He snuggled closer, his hips melding to my ass, his thick staff pressing lengthwise between my tense cheeks.

I felt the hard root of his cock against my hole, causing a strange sensation skitter through my nerve endings like a jolt of electricity.

Apparently, my dick wasn’t nearly as alarmed by this intruder because it started to get hard.

In all fairness, it hadn’t seen much action lately, short of some vigorous self-love.

Dating, when I made the effort, had become an endless string of dissatisfaction.

My most recent dates had ended before any clothes came off.

I’m not a whore; I won’t stick my dick in just anyone.

My dick, on the other hand, is a little less particular.

He was ready to fuck when I was ready to abort the date.

So, yeah, he was feeling deprived—maybe a bit depraved—when the stranger crawled into my bed and snuggled my ass.

In retrospect, I suppose I should have asked some questions, posed some form of verbal response:

“Who are you?”

“Why are you in my house?”

“Why are you naked in my bed?”

“Why is my dick getting hard?”

“I should call 911.”

“Help! Police!”

I didn’t speak. I could barely breathe. My growing erection wasn’t helping any with the breathing thing—in fact, it seemed to constrict my lungs little by little with each pulse that ran up the length of my cock.

His hand settled on my hip, and I pinched my lips between my teeth to stop the gasp from bursting out of my mouth.

His touch was warm, even a little hot, as his palm rested on my hip bone, his fingertips kneading my skin like an afterthought, almost comfortably, as if he belonged here, as if we were established… lovers.

I released my lips and felt the sting of my teeth's impressions, letting out a slow, quiet breath that quivered in my nervous throat. I knew that if I didn’t take a deep breath soon, I would pass out, because my tiny, laboring inhales weren’t feeding my body nearly enough oxygen.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t breathing normally; he had to know I was awake.

But I figured that if I didn’t announce it and pretended to be asleep, I wouldn’t feel compelled to question his presence in my bed—and practically in my ass.

A shiver skipped down my spine, prickling my skin, as his warm breath filtered through the tips of my hair at the nape of my neck.

Though barely audible, his breathing surged in my ear like wind through a tunnel.

He wasn’t panting lustfully; his breath was barely there, the same as mine.

His lips brushed the back of my neck, and only then did his breath stutter—and his cock swell between my ass cheeks.

Oh god, here it comes—he’s going in!

No lube. No spit. This was about to be a very unpleasant invasion.

I clamped my eyes shut and held my breath, preparing for the burn of a dry plunge. My lungs turned to fire, already starved of oxygen.

I couldn’t tell for sure how big the “cuddler” was—my size, at least, maybe bigger.

With his body pressed to mine, he felt fit as his firm, rippling abs rubbed against my lower back.

I was in decent shape, but I doubted I had the muscle strength to subdue this horny home invader if he chose to take me by force.

Can’t rape the willing.

I cringed at the “R” word. Didn’t like it one bit. But it did pose the question: was I a willing participant in this strangely seductive scenario?

You sure as shit aren’t resisting.

I wasn’t, was I? Why wasn’t I?!

I just lay there, motionless, barely breathing, while his fingers tickled my sensitive skin, and his big, hard dick made itself at home between my tense cheeks.

Did he know my dick was equally stiff? It was dark in the bedroom, and the covers were drawn up to my waist. Unless he reached down and touched me, how could he…

My static breath hitched in my throat, almost gagging me.

I started to cough, then forced it back, as my full attention went to his hand—previously content to rest on my hip—now growing more curious, fingertips creeping—spider-walking—across my stomach, venturing lower, tracing lazy circles around my belly button, making my ab muscles quiver and quake.

My cock “jumped” for joy, sending a spasm through my hips, which caused my ass to involuntarily bump against his pelvis—while I lay rigid with tension, cold sweat breaking out all over my body.

Why are you excited?! My brain screamed at my delighted penis. This should not make you happy!

Oh, but he was happy and growing happier. I can admit I’m decently endowed, and when I get quite “excited”, I have, uh… a lot to show for it. And it was showing now, more than ever, as my cock stretched across the mattress, the root swelling thicker, and the head spitting out dribbles of precum.

Fuck you, traitor, I chided my dick as my balls began to ache, then my pucker hole started flexing against the cuddler’s cock. Could he feel it? It felt extremely pronounced to me, like my hole was literally sucking his hard flesh, inviting it to violate me.

A sharp, startled “Huh” lodged in my throat—the first sound I’d made since waking to this stranger cuddling my ass—as his fingertips danced along my throbbing shaft, all the way to the tip.

I swallowed a whimper, gulping weakly, and squeezed my eyes shut tighter when his thumb pad lazily massaged my cock head, smearing the slick juices drooling out of me.

My pulse was in my balls, as if a bass speaker had been attached to my sack, triggering a rhythmic thump between my legs. The ache webbing through my groin made my eyes water.

How is this happening?! How is this turning me on?!

I should be screaming and running for my life—I knew this. Yet I lay there in pre-erotic bliss, my ass cuddling his cock, my mind going a little loopy as his precum dribbled through my crack like something alive, about to go cave diving.

Another whimper clenched my throat as his hand curled around my cock, not tightly, almost cradling it in his palm.

He slid his loose fist down my shaft to the swollen root, and I bit my lower lip—hard—breaking the skin.

My heart beat a million miles a minute, rat-tat-tatting against my inner chest wall, further impeding my breathing and making me want to cough again, or at least clear my throat.

But that might imply I meant to speak, and I so didn’t.

What would I say? The time for rational questions was left in the dust, and… here I was, receiving the softest hand job from a most intrusive stranger—and somehow, it was thee erotic experience of my life.

His fingers tightened somewhat, gently squeezing my engorged cock, and my hips spasmed again, bucking me into his crotch.

Did he just shudder?

His fist slid up my lengthy chub—the thin sheath of velvety skin rolling against throbbing muscle and plump veins—then down again, and up… each stroke slow, casual, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to jack me up and jerk me off.

Apparently, he did, because I sure as shit wasn’t rushing him.