Chapter 16 #4
My heart thundered with anticipation, my nerves flaring and tingling, as Harrison positioned himself in front of me, taking my ankles into his hands and thrusting his cock against me, sliding it between my spread cheeks and up my taint.
I could feel his balls pressing against my hole, and it sent another wave of shivers down my arms. His dick, wet with lube, moved over my balls gently, swaying back and forth as he worked his hips a little.
And finally, holding my gaze, he reached down and held himself, pulling back enough to press the tip of his cock against my hole.
The pressure was instant and nearly unbearable. Then I realized that the unbearable part of it was not coming from Harrison or the size of his dick, but from within me. I was holding back, guarding myself, scared despite knowing I wasn’t truly scared.
He was gentle and slow, only testing me at first, until I figured it all out. My body gave, relaxing for him just as I put my hands on his hips and pulled him closer.
This time, the pain was real, but it wasn’t too bad.
I had already learned to put up with a little bit of discomfort that would soon melt away, disappear into warmth and pleasure as if it had never existed.
So I held my breath and forced myself to relax and open to him, taking the first inch despite the pressure building behind my eyes, then the second one because pain was nothing more than a distant memory already.
My fingers dug deep into Harrison’s hips, eyes pleading with him to keep going, to never stop, to fuck me senseless because I needed it, wanted it, deserved it.
My lips parted, but no sound came from my choked throat. I pulled Harrison into myself until he leaned down, planting his fists on either side of my head, bringing his face close to mine and breathing in slowly, lips above lips, eyes locked on eyes, tips of our noses nearly touching.
I inhaled his breath deep into my lungs, moving my hands away from his hips and wrapping my arms around his shoulder.
I wanted to pull him in, to kiss him, to have his tongue fill my mouth, but I didn’t do that.
This moment, as his dick impaled me deeper, and his eyes shone with adoration and worship I’d never seen before, was too wonderful to dispel.
So I watched him, suspended in anticipation of that tremendous kiss that would follow, and I moaned softly as he moved his hips back and forth, slow and deliberate with his movements.
“Keep fucking me,” I panted. “Don’t stop.”
The words I’d never thought I would say poured out of me. They landed somewhere between us, comfortably and truly, and Harrison leaned deeper in, thrusting his hips against me and moving his hands to the sides of my face, holding me, looking into my eyes.
I could read every sensation from the way the corners of his eyes tensed and relaxed. I could read his mind from the movements of his eyebrows or the twitch of his mustache or the way the tip of his tongue moved over his lips, still offering and denying a kiss I was owed.
I lifted my head to take it, but Harrison pulled his head back and smiled daringly.
I bit the air, like a threat, and his devious smile only deepened. He teased me and toyed with me as I tried to kiss him again, then leaned down and crushed his mouth against mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth as his dick rammed deeper into me.
The intensity grew quickly, his abdomen pounding against my folded legs, his quads hitting my raised ass, the wet sound slapping between us embarrassingly, and I moaned into his mouth, kissing him, biting his lip when I could, and panting for air when it was too much.
“Oh fuck,” I whimpered against his lips. “I think…I’m gonna…” I cried a curse and pulled him closer.
Harrison pressed his lips against my neck and kissed me sensually while keeping the grinding pace of his hips steady.
He was low enough that his stomach was pressing against mine, and my dick was trapped between the two of us, aching and throbbing under the friction of sweaty abs, dripping with precum for as long as Harrison was thrusting his dick against my prostate.
The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, though it felt like something building up, something big and wonderful, welling and threatening to spill, to boil over, to explode.
“I’m gonna come,” I said, voice pained and thin. “Fuck, Harrison. Don’t stop.”
My fingernails dug into the plains of his upper back, and I held him hard against me, tightening my legs around his waist as hard as I could without disrupting his rhythm.
Moans ripped loudly from my throat, something in me unlocking and spilling into the air. He fucked me hard then, bringing us both to the wonderful and unseen heights.
The friction grew unbearable only half a moment before I lost control. My dick throbbed hard, and my hole pulsed tightly around Harrison’s cock, making him moan and grunt, his movements furious and desperate.
Harrison’s dick swelled inside of me, tensing and relaxing as he came hard, all while my cum spilled and speared between his body and mine.
Finally, free of the pressure that he had built up inside my chest until this moment, I inhaled a deep breath of sweet air.
Harrison pulled himself away from me, making tingles shoot down into my toes as his dick slipped out of my body. He removed the condom and crashed next to me, his dick still big and hard, glistening with cum.
His abs and mine shone with a mix of my cum and sweat, and I turned to my side, breathing deeply and still failing to slow down. My hand rested on his chest, and I watched him as he slipped an arm under me and pulled me close.
“Did it hurt?” he asked.
I couldn’t remember. “Maybe a little. At the start,” I said.
The pain was so distant in my memory that I only knew it by name, not by what it had felt like.
All I knew was that I felt his absence now, felt the emptiness where he had been, and the lingering heat everywhere he had touched me. “I’m so glad we did this.”
He smiled and looked into my eyes. When he kissed me, it was an exhausted but committed kind of a kiss, deep and slow, a little lazy.
“Shower with me,” I said.
Harrison’s eyes shone a little brighter. “No,” he said. “Let’s not shower at all.”
My eyebrows rose a little higher.
“I want you like this,” he said. “Sweaty, stained with cum, all wet and glowing. I want to look at you like this. Don’t put your clothes on. Don’t wash your hands. Just be like this.”
My heart sped up a little. “Okay,” I said.
And there was a freedom in it, a liberation of some lingering vestiges of self-consciousness.
Because with Harrison, you weren’t allowed to be self-conscious.
You weren’t allowed to question if you were beautiful because he made you beautiful, no matter what.
“Wait here,” Harrison said, rising from the bed. He walked away slowly, his hips swaying and his firm ass the last thing I saw before he disappeared down the hallway.
He returned a minute later, a camera in his hand. It was one of those old Polaroid cameras that printed the images instantly. I recognize it by the bulky bottom where the photo paper was stacked.
“You wanna?” he asked, lifting the camera to show me.
Strange how hard my heart was beating at the thought. “Yes,” I said, then turned around to lie on my stomach, folding an arm under my head and resting one side of my face in it. “Like this.”
Harrison circled me with reverence, searching for an angle. Then I heard his breath stop, and the tension lasted for an eternity between us before the camera clicked and the shutter snapped open and shut.
The little mechanism in the camera buzzed, pushing out a blank, glossy paper that would soon show us how Harrison saw me.
As the colors emerged, so did the highlights, shadows, and shapes in the image, folds of the duvet beneath a naked figure of my legs, crossed at the ankles, ass curving high and the curve falling along the small of my back, lines extending to my broad upper back and shoulders, and only a hint of my cheek and eye visible beyond my messy hair.
Harrison placed the photograph on the nightstand, then glanced around the room. “Go stand by the fire,” he said.
“Are you inspired?” I asked.
Harrison replied by stopping me mid-rise and kissing me deeply.
I did what he said, walking over to the fireplace and standing in the dancing light and shadows, facing the flames.
My dick hung soft over my balls, and I turned to face Harrison just a little more when he whispered that I was perfect, triggering the shutter again.
We waited another few seconds for the photograph to come out, and then Harrison left it aside without waiting for it to fade in. Instead, he told me where to go and what to do, focused now on what he was doing.
I followed him through it, unbothered by my nakedness and emboldened by his compliments.
He told me to face away from the fire, but to look at it over my shoulder, right hand on my left shoulder, chin resting on the back of it, eyes closed softly.
Then I found myself standing on the balcony, glass doors open wide and pale curtains framing me, while moonlight lit me up and cool air caressed my bare skin.
A few moments later, I was facing Harrison again, up close, as he took a photo of my head and shoulders.
Then, feeling risky, I directed Harrison instead, coming down to my knees and reaching for his hips, looking up at him and the lens before his eye.
And then, lifting my head high, I leaned my torso all the way back and planted my hands behind me on the floor, still kneeling but emphasizing my torso, thighs, and cock for him.
Harrison whispered encouragements, telling me what a gorgeous person I was. And I believed him. How could I not? He made me feel gorgeous. He made me feel special, interesting, curious, and sexy.
He made it all seem so easy.
“You’re getting hard again,” Harrison said. “It’s beautiful.”
I lay on the floor, not sure what I was performing, but certain that it felt right. My hand moved down my abdomen as my dick thickened with arousal, and the shutter snapped every few seconds, followed by the buzz of the camera developing the photo.
And later, while still dazed and heated from the trance that this experience had been, I sat naked next to him on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, and Harrison held a stack of newly developed images.
They were grainy, vintage warm, freezing moments within their frames forever. They were beautiful, especially when I connected them to the feelings of arousal and praise and pleasure, each one unique and uniquely framed.
“I don’t think anyone I ever met would have let me do this,” Harrison said, looking at me while holding a particularly risky photograph of me on the bed, lying on my front, legs spread and ass lifted and in full view of the lens.
I chuckled softly. “I just do what you tell me, and things turn out for the better.”
“Mm.” Harrison thought about it, then stacked the photos together again and tossed them on the bed. He looked at me for a long moment. “You tell me what to do, and we’ll see how that plays out.”
Ideas zipped through my mind like lightning bolts. Then I cut through all that noise and found what I truly wanted him to do. I took his hand, and I led him around the bed to lie with me.
I lay on my side, facing away from him, and had him wrap his big arm around my torso while his entire body fit so perfectly against mine. His knees under mine, his crotch against my ass, his stomach against the small of my back, and his lips on the back of my neck.
“See?” Harrison said. “It’s not at all the things I say that are right. It’s you.”
“It’s us,” I said. “You make me…happy with myself.”
His arm wrapped a little tighter around me, and we drifted to sleep, naked and unburdened, in the beautiful house deep in the forest.