Chapter 71 Stuart
Stuart
I’ve been waiting in my room for him, but not for long. I’ve barely undressed and arranged my pillows so I’m half-lying, half-sitting on my bed when Elliot pops his head around the doorway. He keeps the rest of his body hidden, peeking in as if he’s a little afraid of what he could find here.
“Come in, baby.”
He inches in, swinging his arms a little too much and then too little, and stands wide-eyed at the foot of my bed, twisting his body away from me slightly.
Aw. My little boy is feeling shy.
Given how loud he usually is and how much he usually dresses for attention, I find it disarmingly sweet to see him like this. Beguilingly sweet. Captivating, in fact.
“Oh,” he breathes, running his gaze up my legs, eyes pausing when they reach my erection. “It’s so big, Daddy.”
“You want these inches, baby?” He nods quickly. “How many do you want?”
His tongue darts out between his lips, moistening them. “All of them.”
My lips turn up on one side, and I make a soft, happy sound. I eye him up and down, taking in every part of his muscular body. Bulky pecs are tensed and fine lines furrow up and down his belly.
“Do you like it, Daddy?” he asks, looking down at his feet.
He’s almost naked. Smooth and sexy and awkward.
Jesus, I have a thing for that.
“Show Daddy,” I say.
He bites his bottom lip and hesitates for a split second before slowly spinning around.
His hands float up behind him, covering his ass and then dropping quickly.
He looks back over his shoulder, neck and cheeks bright red, as I take in the glorious sight of his ass decorated with bright-pink haphazard lines framed by the white jockstrap I bought him.
His ass is beyond belief. Beyond perfect.
It’s round and muscular, hard but fleshy enough to give me something extra to squish.
Something to fondle and pinch. Something that jiggles when I slap it.
I motion for him to come closer, and he crawls into the space I make by parting my legs wide. When he’s close, I say, “Turn around, baby, I want to see that sweet ass.”
He shuffles around so he’s on his hands and knees between my legs, facing away from me.
“Closer.”
He inches back.
“Closer.”
He inches back more. He moves closer until the soles of his feet are all but under my ass and he’s close enough that I can run my hands up the back of his thighs without stretching.
His hands float up again, trying to cover himself.
Again, he drops them when he realizes what he’s doing.
His head dips, almost like he’s trying to hide despite the fact he’s fully exposed. More than exposed. He’s on display.
He’s embarrassed by the state of his ass. Embarrassed to let me see him like this now that the spanking is over and we’ve changed gears to fucking. He looks hot and bothered. Uncomfortable and so, so cute.
I swear to God, no one wears embarrassment better than Elliot Gould.
He’s an adorable, hot, twitchy mess. The sight of him like this, blushing, pink in the face with lashings of pink across his ass cheeks, is almost too much for me.
I’ve been hard since the second he walked into the study, and I promise you, the sweet little squeals he made when I took the belt to him did nothing to reduce my arousal.
Him sitting on my lap, sore and squirmy, didn’t help much either.
Usually, I like to take my time with him.
I like to go slow and prep him until he’s begging and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can take me.
I don’t just like it because it’s good for him, I like it for me too.
I take pleasure in his pleasure. Infinite, immeasurable pleasure. So much pleasure.
Maybe more than I take in my own.
Today’s different though. I can feel my need stirring, rousing and moving as it snakes through me.
I get the lube out of my drawer and drizzle a long stream onto the top of his crack.
I watch, transfixed, as it slowly trickles down to his sweet, hairless hole.
It takes everything I have to stop me from diving in with my face and licking and sucking and kissing and biting until I pass out from lack of oxygen.
I wet my lips at the thought and my dick pulses hard.
Hard enough to remind me I need to get into my boy right the hell now.
“Get ready for me, baby.”
“Daddy?”
“Use your fingers. Open your hole. I want to watch.”
He reaches back with one hand, tentative, bracing himself on the other, and rubs the lube gently around his little pucker and then eases his middle finger in. Just a little. Just the tip.
“More,” I growl.
He does as I say, balling the rest of his fingers and thrusting his middle finger into himself deeply. He works it in and out, grunting softly when he fully extends it. I stroke myself slowly, sensation darting up and down my cock, trying not to blink as I watch him.
“Another,” I pant when I’m sure he can take it.
He does as I say. Rubbing himself on the outside before squeezing two fingertips tightly together and sliding them in.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” he pants. “But it feels better when you do it.”
Oh fuck. This boy knows just what to say to mess with my head.
I trace my fingers slowly up his inner thigh, teasing his balls with my nails until he moans, and then I slide my forefinger in.
His head rears back and his own fingers slip out.
No matter, I quickly replace them with two and then three of my own.
His sweet little ass throbs in surprise, quivering as he relaxes and accepts me.
I lube my dick and hold it straight, angling myself so if he tries to sit on his haunches, he’ll impale himself on my cock.
“Sit,” I say softly.
He looks back, taking my dick and lining it up, wriggling his hips until I thrust up and nudge my tip in. He’s slick and slippery, and my head slides in fully. He’s silent for a moment, back tensed hard, and then a high, desperate cry fills the room.
I love that sound.
I love it and love it.
I love it so much that I have to breathe in and out through my nose to stop myself from grabbing his hips and slamming him all the way down.
He starts moving cautiously, skittishly sitting down on me until I feel him flinch and lift him up.
We work together like that. Him sinking down and me lifting him up.
We do it again and again until he’s taking as much of me as he’s ever taken.
“Want to learn how to milk it, baby?”
“Uh-huh.” He nods, turning his head so I can see one side of his face.
“Okay, clench your muscle really hard. Right here.” I thrust where I want him to clench.
He does it, and as he does, I lift him up by his hips.
His tight ring squeezes and drags up my cock, flooding me with pleasure so sweet it leaves me groaning.
I make him do it again. And again. I make him do it until his little ass is quivering and his squeeze is nowhere near as strong as when we started.
“Want Daddy to help you?” I say when he pauses.
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
“Okay.” I thrust my hips up, holding him right where I want him.
“Clench hard…harder than that.” When he can’t, I swing my hand back and give him a sharp slap on the ass.
It works like a charm. He squeezes me so hard my head spins, and I feel like I’m drowning in good things.
We do it again. And again. We do it until his ass is cherry red, and he’s grinding himself on me, hips rocking backward and forward. Frantic. Wanton.
“Start stroking,” I groan. “Now! Stroke hard and fast.”
He slips a hand into his jock and his arm starts pumping. He does it the way he does everything, with unbridled zest. The next time he sinks down on me, I dig my heels into the mattress and slam home. I penetrate him fully. Up to the hilt.
Deep.
As deep as I can go.
His head drops back and he wails, clenching down on me involuntarily, thrashing and digging his nails into my thighs.
“Did Daddy just pop that third ring, baby?” I ask when he stills.
He nods unsteadily, still twitching and groaning, grunting as he grinds me. His hips rock. His ass is soft and fleshy against my lower belly as I thrust into him. He grinds and grinds. He doesn’t stop until he’s ground me to dust. To nothing. To pieces. To rapture.
A long time later, he’s lying in my arms, hands cupping his mouth to my ear as if he’s telling a secret. “I liked that, Daddy. I liked it so much. It felt good. It felt wrong and right in all the best ways.”
I smile a wry smile.
Wrong and right in all the best ways.
A perfect description of Elliot and me if ever I’ve heard one.
“I loved it, Daddy. I want to do it again,” he continues. Recently, he’s been getting like this more and more, chatty and truthful after being fucked. It feels like every time I’m inside him, another veil drops. A veil for him and a veil for me. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, you can tell me anything, you know that.”
“I kind of wanted you to fuck me after you gave me the belt. I was so horny and sore, and I wanted you to just shove your dick in me and…and kind of punish me more.”
“A punishment fuck, huh?”
“Is that a thing?”
“Oh, it’s a thing all right.” I pull him closer and run a hand through his hair. “It’s hard and it hurts really, really good, but you should know, boys on the receiving end of a punishment fuck aren’t allowed to get off.”
“Oh shit,” he gasps, burying his face into my neck as if part of him doesn’t want me to hear what he’s going to say next. “Why’s that so hot?”