Chapter 3
My excitement waned when the cuddler passed up the chance to get me off again. The heaviness of his own cock made it clear he could have quickly gotten back to working order as well. So… why not?
I didn’t know what to do when everything stopped. The only movement was his hand, still lightly stroking our dicks—not with purpose, but as an afterthought. Or a casual rubdown… as if to cool the fire rather than stoke it.
It wasn’t “cooling” anything in me. My blood still boiled, and I swear I felt steam coming out of my ears; I was so fucking hot.
I wanted his cock in my ass. Surely, that was his next “conquest.” How could it not be?
Who jerks a man off and then just stops there?
Why risk crawling into a stranger’s bed without the intent of “going for the gold”? That didn’t even make sense.
What about this does make sense?
Well… nothing. Even so, my point still stood—why go this far and not all the way?
Maybe he’s just taking a breather. If he jerks off that hard—imagine how “vigorously” he fucks?
I was imagining it, and it made my dick harden in his hand.
I subtly nestled my ass into his crotch—just in case he had any “misgivings” about what I wanted.
I couldn’t say why I thought he would have concerns about that now.
I mean, the whole pesky consent thing had gone out the window when he crawled into my bed and cuddled my ass.
I didn’t know what “moral dilemma” I thought he might be struggling with.
He responded with a discreet nudge of his hips.
My silly heart leaped, and my crazy pulse went even crazier.
My reviving erection swelled in his loose fist, and his cock stretched along my shaft, both members sufficiently coated in his cum.
He lazily stroked both muscles, giving a gentle squeeze now and then that sounded slightly tacky.
I shivered with delight and started to salivate, wondering what he tasted like.
The last dick I sucked wasn’t very flavorful and literally left a bad taste in my mouth.
But I knew the cuddler’s cock would be delicious.
How could I know? No fucking clue. I just knew—and desperately wanted to prove myself right.
If I promised to close my eyes and not look at his face, would he let me suck him?
I swear, I’d make that deal for just one lick.
When I began pushing my dick through his fist, he slowly withdrew his hand instead of stroking harder.
His heavy cock stayed tucked between my thighs, nestled against my balls, which were filling up again.
His semi-hard flesh was hot against my sack, twitching with each shift of my hips.
I wanted it in my ass again, wedged between my scalding, sweaty cheeks.
More than that, I wanted it inside me. Surely he wanted the same—it was unthinkable he wouldn’t.
His hand, slightly sticky with his own cum, slid over my hip and waist, gently squeezing my feverish flesh.
Goosebumps prickled my skin. He pressed his lips to the nape of my neck, and more gooseflesh sprouted over my body.
His breathing had calmed somewhat, but I could still feel a slight quickness in his breath as it puffed warmly against my neck.
Then he kissed me. Barely. But it was definitely a kiss.
Right on that sensitive spot at the back of my neck.
He may as well have jabbed me with a cattle prod for the electricity that shot through my body.
My dick hardened so fast I swore I heard a cartoonish doink!
I exhaled a quick, soft “Huh.” Then my pulse went through the roof.
I hadn’t thought my heart could beat any faster or harder without exploding, but it managed to exceed my expectations.
Thank God for the daily sprints on the treadmill.
I was breathless—fucking breathless—from that tiny little kiss on the neck. No one—and I’m talking no-fucking-one—had ever had this effect on me in my entire freaking life. How was this happening? I hadn’t even seen his face or touched him with my own hands, yet-
Here I am, Rock you like a hurricane.
Yes, that—rocking my world like a fucking hurricane!
I won’t lie; the swell of emotions that suddenly overwhelmed me was a tad…
disconcerting. I wasn’t a very emotional person, which, in retrospect, probably explained why I didn’t bond easily with others.
I could feel, but I certainly wasn’t a slave to my emotions.
Still, here I was, getting choked up over a little peck on the nape of my neck. Was I that lonely? That sex-starved?
Maybe… attention starved?
That didn’t sound like me. Or maybe it did. I was starting to think I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did.
But surely I was simply having a “reaction” to the high-tension circumstances of a stranger—an intruder—breaking into my house and making himself at home in my bed.
I mean, who wouldn’t? Was he a harmless sex fiend?
A dangerous predator? I didn’t fucking know.
So, of course, my emotions were all over the fucking place.
His hot, sweaty chest pressed flush against my slick back as his hand flattened against the front of my hip, drawing me more firmly to him…
as if he didn’t want even an inch of space between us.
I have to be honest, this wasn’t only an incredible turn-on; I found it sweet as fuck, like he had to be this close to me.
I was under no illusions—this was all fucking crazy.
Nothing he did should turn me on or make me think it’s sweet.
I knew I should be seeking the quickest exit route, my brain working overtime to come up with an escape plan. Maybe leap out of bed, grab my phone, run to the bathroom, lock the door, and call the fucking cops? Something like that?
I just lay there, reveling in the heat of his body, my skin tingling where his palm pressed against my hip, holding me against him.
My brain was mush—it wasn’t formulating a goddamn thing…
except how to get his cock inside my ass.
That was the extent of my “planning.” I entertained no thoughts of escape.
I was at his mercy. I had no idea what it ultimately meant for me, but I decided I didn’t fucking care. Too late for that, anyway.
If he meant to murder me, at least I’d go out with empty balls.
Don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t want to die that night.
Honestly, despite the unusual circumstances, I didn’t feel my life was in danger.
If I’d felt he was a threat, I might have reacted differently.
But I didn’t, so I went with it. Sidenote—I might have gone with it anyway.
I was pretty horny. And as any young, hot-blooded man will tell you—sex supersedes everything. Everything.
The most disturbing part of all this wasn’t having sex with a stranger who had broken into my home…
but the unsettling emotions coursing through me.
As much as I wanted him to fuck me, I couldn’t deny the pleasant, content feeling of just lying there with him, listening to him breathe, savoring the rise and fall of his chest against my back, his hand resting almost lovingly on my hip.
I’m going over the deep end.
I had to be. This couldn’t be normal. Could someone lose their mind “all of a sudden”? Could insanity happen that quickly? I was beginning to believe so.
My heart skipped—actually skipped—when his hand slid away from my hip and rubbed my stomach in that lazy, tender way of his. Fingertips traced the shallow valleys of my tense abs like an explorer charting a route into unknown territory.
Was this unknown territory for him? Was I his first “home invasion”?
Thinking I might not be his first sparked jealousy in me.
Again—crazy. At this point, I’d accepted I wasn’t playing with a full deck and had embraced the jealousy.
I wanted to be special to him, as special as he made me feel.
I’d never been special to anyone. Maybe I was reaching with this stranger.
Maybe?
So, yeah, I was reaching. Shut up. I’m self-aware…
now. I was obviously starving for affection and willing to accept it from anyone, in any situation.
I hadn’t known that about myself until that night, despite all the dates I had aborted.
I thought I was being picky, weeding out the losers, but maybe I was just waiting for someone who made me feel… like this.
I was becoming way too invested. Yet even as I told myself to get a grip and resist this weird emotional pull, I pressed back against him, welcoming his snuggling body and inviting the cuddle.
He kissed my neck again, and another shiver zipped through me—all the way down to my toes, which curled tightly against the sheets, gouging the mattress.
His lips were soft against my damp skin, his breath pleasantly warm with a distant peppermint scent, as if he’d been sucking a candy cane just moments before.
He softly nuzzled the short hairs behind my ear as his well-muscled arm casually embraced my midsection, his palm resting on my ribs, gently tucked between my body and the bed.
A shaky breath escaped my mouth, and I wanted to touch him, to trail my fingers along his arm, but I suddenly hesitated to make that contact.
Until now, only he had touched me. Maybe that’s how he wanted it.
Maybe he didn’t want me touching him, too.
It seemed as crazy as everything else, but I was actually afraid he would pull away and leave.
You should be so lucky—a last-ditch rational thought from what remained of my sane mind. But the notion of his leaving didn’t make me feel lucky, as it surely should have.
I didn’t touch him. I let him cuddle me, and I won’t lie, it felt fucking awesome. It was affecting me on multiple levels—too many for my short-circuited brain to process.
The moan was in my throat and out of my mouth before I could stop it as he slowly slid his leg between mine, his semi-erect cock smushing my testies in a most wonderful way. On reflex, I curled my leg over his thigh, intertwining our limbs—then froze, again worried about “touching” him back.
He didn’t flee. Or even flinch. His only response was to “nuzzle” his crotch more snugly against my ass.
My leg tightened slightly around his, and his semi-erection morphed into a full hard-on, rubbing delightfully against the bottom of my cock.
His arm squeezed a fraction, clutching me against his chest.
And he held me like that—totally locked in—the heat of our bodies fusing us until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
I know, it sounds cliché, but I swear on all the fluffy critters, it felt exactly like that—as if we were melting into one another.
The tension in my body flushed away, and I wilted into his embrace, more relaxed than I had ever been in my life.