Chapter 7 #2
He scoots closer, positioning himself, my calves draped over his shoulders.
He takes himself in hand, dragging the head through my mess, teasing my rim, circling it, applying just enough pressure to make my hole flutter.
His eyes lock onto mine. Then his lubed-up cock prods at my entrance, demanding entry.
“Last chance, Tate. I’m not holding back.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He pushes forward. The head breaches me, and my whole body seizes. It’s nothing like his fingers. This is an invasion—a hot, thick, blunt force. My hands claw at the moss, tearing fistfuls of green from the log. He holds there, just the tip, letting me feel the stretch, the burn.
“Breathe,” he says.
I try. My lungs stutter. He pushes another inch, and the burn spreads through me like wildfire, a searing fullness that has me digging my heels into his shoulders. My hips try to pull away, but his grip on my thighs is like iron, holding me in place.
“Look at me, Tate.”
I open my eyes. His face is right there, jaw tight, sweat running down his temples. Every muscle in his body is coiled, straining, fighting the urge to slam forward. The battle between the beast that wants to ruin me and the friend that doesn’t want to hurt me is written all over his face.
“Brody…”
“I know.” He pushes another inch. “Ten years of friendship. Who knew it was all just foreplay?”
I let out a choked sound as he sinks deeper. “You’re so big.”
“Ten years of thinking I knew everything about you. But this perfect, tight little ass…” He pushes again, and we both moan. “…was right in front of me the whole time.”
“Fuck,” I gasp. “It’s so good, but it’s killing me.”
“I know, baby. I know. Take your time.” He holds still, halfway in, his cock throbbing inside me. I can feel his pulse. Or maybe it’s mine. The line between us is blurring.
I focus on the moss beneath my fingers, the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink, the sound of water lapping at the shore. I breathe with the rhythm of the lake. In. Out. In. Out. My body slowly relaxes around him, the burn softening into a dull ache.
“There you go. That’s it. Open up for me.” He thrusts the rest of the way in, one smooth slide that buries him to the hilt. A grunt tears out of me. I’m impaled. Stuffed. Filled to the brim. There’s exactly zero room for anything else inside me. His balls are pressed right up against my ass.
He rests his forehead against my knee, panting.
“Fuck, Tate. That’s… you feel…” He can’t even finish a sentence.
Brody. The master of the long, rambling, ego-fueled monologue, the guy who once talked for thirty minutes straight about his deadlift PR, reduced to three-word fragments.
I’d give him shit for it if I could form a sentence myself.
But I can’t, because I need all my energy to process this sensation. Every nerve ending in my body is focused on the place where we’re joined. The girth, the heat, the sting of my rim stretched around the base of his cock. My thighs tremble against his shoulders. My cock leaks onto my stomach.
We stay like that for a long, stretched-out minute, breathing together. Me adjusting to the fullness. Him adjusting to the tightness.
Then he starts to move. Small, shallow thrusts, testing the waters. Pulling out an inch, pushing back in. Out an inch, back in. The drag of him against my insides sends sparks skittering up my spine. My hands are fists in the moss.
“You feel that?” He pulls out a little further this time, then slides back in. “You feel how deep I am? I’m in your guts, Tate.”
“Yeah,” I whimper. “I feel it.”
“Still hurting? Or is it starting to feel good?”
“Both.”
“Yeah?” He rolls his hips, grinding into me, and the head of his cock brushes that spot inside me. My back arches off the log. “Oh. You liked that, didn’t you?” He does it again, pulling out until just the tip is inside me, then angling back in, hitting it dead on. My cry echoes across the water.
“There it is,” he growls. “Right there.” He sets a rhythm, every thrust aimed at that same spot, and I can’t control the sounds coming out of me anymore.
Desperate, broken moans. My hands find his forearms, nails digging into the muscle, leaving red crescents in his skin. He starts fucking me harder.
The sting is gone, replaced by a deep rolling pleasure that builds with every thrust. His hips snap against my ass, the wet squelch of lube the loudest sound in the clearing. He holds my legs wide, folding me nearly in half, driving deeper than I thought possible.
“I wish you could see the view from here, Tate,” he says, eyes fixed on where his cock pistons in and out of me.
“Yeah?” I manage between gasps. “How does it look?”
“Your hole is stretched so wide around me. It’s so pretty, Tate. Pink and puffy and gripping me every time I pull out. Like it doesn’t want me to leave.” His voice drops. “Does it?”
I shake my head.
“No, it doesn’t. It wants to be full. It wants to be bred.” He slams in deep and holds. “You want that, baby? You want me to breed you?”
I don’t know what’s wilder. Brody calling me baby or offering to breed me. Twenty-four hours ago, this man was teaching me pickup lines in a truck. Now he’s balls deep inside me, ready to empty those balls he’s so proud of deep into my body.
But I’m already nodding because yes, God, yes, that’s exactly what I want. I want to be his. I want to carry his load out of this forest and back to the city. I want to be sitting in my dorm room next week and still feel him leaking out of me.
“Say it,” he commands. “What did I tell you yesterday? Say what you want. Be direct.”
“I… I want…”
“Louder, Tate.”
“I want you to breed me,” I gasp, the words tearing out of me. “Fill me up, Brody.”
A growl rumbles through his chest, and he sinks his teeth into my calf, right above the ankle. Hard enough to leave a mark.
“With pleasure.”
The last of his control shatters. He fucks me with everything he has.
All that energy he pours into the gym, into every rep and every sprint, unleashed on me.
His body is a machine, hips driving with a speed and force that shakes the log beneath us, the head of his cock battering that spot inside me over and over.
His face is pure focus, sweat dripping from his jaw onto my chest.
The slap of his balls against my ass is an obscene, wet percussion. My cries echo across the water. I’m not holding anything back. I fully intend to scare every squirrel, bird, and deer for a mile.
Each thrust drives me further up the log, moss tearing under my back, and he grabs my hips and hauls me back down onto his cock like a ragdoll. My hands scramble for something to hold and find his forearms, slick with sweat, the muscles underneath like steel cables.
“Harder,” I hear myself scream. “Harder, Brody.”
He spits into my open mouth. “Greedy little slut. You just can’t get enough, can you?”
Full beast mode. And fuck, I love it. “Do it again.”
He spits again, a thick glob that lands on my tongue, and I swallow it while staring straight into his eyes.
Something snaps behind his face. He grabs my jaw, forces my mouth open, and spits a third time, then kisses me through it, his tongue chasing the taste of himself in my mouth.
His hips never stop. The pace is brutal now, each thrust punching a grunt out of me that he swallows and feeds back with his tongue.
“You’re a dirty fucker, Tate,” he pants against my lips. “God, where have you been hiding this?”
“Didn’t know it was there until you put your dick in me.” I rock my hips to meet his thrusts.
“Best thing I ever did.” He releases my jaw and grabs my cock, a hot, slick grip, and starts stroking me in time with his thrusts. Fast strokes, twisting on the upstroke, thumb flicking over the slit on the down.
“I’m not gonna last,” I moan. “Brody, I’m so close.”
“I know. I can feel it. Your ass is really milking my cock.” He leans down, our chests sliding together, sweat mingling. “Don’t fight it, baby. I wanna see it.”
“I can’t hold—”
“Then don’t.” He tightens his grip on my cock and speeds up, his fist a blur, while his hips keep punishing my ass. “Come for me, Tate. Shoot that hot load all over your chest.”
“Don’t you dare pull out,” I gasp. “I want to feel you fill me up.”
“Oh, I’m right behind you.” His pace falters, a stutter in the piston.
“Brody—”
“Hey.” He grabs my chin. “Eyes on me when it happens.”
I lock eyes with him, and the world detonates.
My cock erupts between us, the first rope shooting so hard it hits my chin, my neck, my collarbone.
The second one arcs even higher, catching Brody across the lips.
His tongue darts out and licks it off, eyes never leaving mine, and that image alone rips another pulse out of me.
I’m shaking, clenching, every muscle in my body seizing at once.
My ass locks down on his cock so tight he gasps.
That’s what sends him over. His whole body goes rigid, hips slamming forward and holding.
His eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.
Just silence. His whole body shaking with the force of it.
Then I feel it. The first hot pulse deep inside me.
A liquid fire spreading through my core as he empties himself, his cock twitching and pumping load after load.
His fingers dig into my thighs hard enough to bruise.
Another pulse. Another. He keeps coming, keeps filling me, until I can feel the wetness leaking out around his cock, dripping down my ass, pooling on the moss beneath us.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, collapsing onto me, his full weight pinning me to the log.
His hips keep moving, shallow thrusts, pushing his cum deeper, fucking it into me.
I wrap my arms around his back and hold on.
His skin is warm and slick with sweat. I can feel every breath, every shudder, the last twitches of his cock as he empties the final drops inside me.
“Stay,” I whisper. “Don’t pull out yet.”
He doesn’t. He stays buried in me, softening slowly, his breath ragged against my throat.
My legs wrap around his waist. I hold him there, inside me, feeling the warm fullness, the slow leak of him at the edges.
His lips press against my pulse. I’m covered in my own cum, smeared between our chests, dripping down my sides. I’m full of his.
The sky above us has gone from gold to deep pink. Somewhere, a frog starts to croak.
Brody pushes himself up on shaking arms. He looks down at the mess between us, the streaks of white on my chest, my spent cock resting against my stomach.
He dips two fingers into the puddle in my navel and brings them to his lips, sucking them clean with his eyes locked on mine.
Then he slowly pulls out. I gasp at the loss, at the gush of warmth that follows. He sits back on his heels and looks.
“That’s a sight,” he says, staring at my hole. “All puffy and red. Dripping.” He reaches out and traces my swollen rim, pushing some of the cum back inside with his thumb. “Wish I could plug you up and keep it all in there.”
“Maybe next time,” I say.
He looks up from between my legs, licking his lips. “Next time.”
Then he pulls me to my feet, and before I can think, we’re both stumbling toward the water, his cum dripping down my inner thighs.
We crash into the lake at full speed, a cold shock that pulls a yell from both of us.
I come up sputtering, laughing, wiping water from my eyes.
Brody surfaces right next to me. He grabs my ass and pulls me against him.
Our softening cocks brush together under the water.
We kiss. My arms loop around his neck, his around my waist. Slow and tender this time. A thank you. A holy shit. A what now.
“Five stars,” I say when we finally break apart.
“Huh?”
“The cabin. Five stars. Would recommend.”
“Thought you said it was too small.”
“That’s my favorite part now.”
He grins. “Good thing we’ve got another night.”