11. The Perfect Moment #4
He did not move, and I just lay there, in him, and knowing I was in him.
“Oh, man,” he was saying, “I was figuring it was going to hurt, but fuck. Oh, fuck.”
I pulled back slightly. “Don’t move,” he said, “just lay still.”
“Oh, man,” he repeated, “You’re one big dude. You are one big dude. I like this. I’m liking this. Just stay where you are.”
I lay my cheek on his chest, savouring what I was feeling. What I was thinking. I reached round him, my two hands pressed into his belly, thinking, ‘I’m in there.’ ‘Way up in there.’
More than just his belly, it was like I was in him in every muscle in his body, in every cell in his body, in the very fibre of his being.
And it was like I could feel him in every muscle in my body, in every cell in my body, in the very core of my being.
A whole new world. A whole new dimension.
‘Holy Fuck,’ I said in my thoughts trying to get my head around it.
I touched up against another barrier. He stiffened.
I obviously had hit on something that hurt.
But his hands kept pulling my ass into him, harder, and his asshole kept squeezing on me, pulling me even further in.
I pushed, holding myself to this barrier, and slowly it too yielded – I could hear him moan – and I was in, deep.
I felt for his asshole, fingering my cock where it was in him, measuring how deep I was in.
Fuck. only a finger’s breadth between his asshole and my pubes. I was in, deep. Very deep.
We lay there, neither of us moving. He was moaning, ‘You’re so big. You’re so big.”
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m okay. More than okay. Fuck, you’re so big. Like I want more, but I can’t take any more. Like you’ve got me stretched to my limit. Way beyond my limit.”
I felt his ass muscles working around me.
I was pushing to go deeper. I heard him groan, not so much a groan, but something more guttural, visceral.
His muscles were yielding, then tightening.
The sound again. I pushed. And I heard him.
The sound again, this time from deep in his belly, this time protesting.
Then his muscles were pushing against me, wanting me out, squeezing me out.
Back through the channel. The barriers closing behind me. Then I was out of him.
“You’re okay?” I asked him again. Urgently.
“I’m okay,” he said. Then, “Oh, man, you’re big. You’re so fucking big”.
My cock was still in his ass-crack. I reached in and fingered his asshole.
He winced. “Whoa,” he said, “Tender. Very tender.”
“Mission aborted?”
He snorted. “Fuck no! Just give me a minute ’til my guts get themselves sorted out.”
My belly to his belly, I hugged him, tight, holding those beautiful muscles to me. ‘Mine,’ I thought, ‘Mine, for just a moment maybe, but mine. For the taking. Unbelievable.’
We lay there, him holding me to him, me holding him to me, his asshole pulsing, opening and closing.
Between us I could feel his hard on, iron rod hard.
And I wanted it, hard, in my ass. I rolled off him onto my back.
“Mine for yours,” I said. I spat a wad into my hand, and smeared his head. Then another, going down his shaft.
“Fuck,” he snorted. “You’re sure you want it?” he teased.
“Fuck you,” I said, facetiously.
“No,” he said, “fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you. Mine for yours it is. You think you’re big …!”
He straddled me, push up position. He spat into his hand again and smeared my asshole.
Twice. Then guided his hard on to where I was going to let him in.
I felt his head touching it. I grabbed his ass pulling him to me, hard, knowing, but not knowing what was coming.
He was pushing against my asshole. I pushed my hips up to help him.
He was pushing, but there was no way my asshole was going to yield to him.
“Just keep it there. Keep pushing,” I told him. I tried flexing my anus to get it to open. He kept pushing against it. Hard.
“Relax,” he said, “just take it easy.”
Nothing. I couldn’t remember him being this unyielding.
He slathered another wad of spit onto it.
I could feel his finger probing, into my anus, working it to open.
Then his dick again. I tightened up even further.
I began humping my hips, then grinding them round him.
Still nothing. If anything more unyielding.
“Deep breath,” he said. “Deep breath.” I took a deep breath. And just as I filled my lungs to hold it, I felt him enter. “Holy Fuck’, he is in me.’ The realization of him being inside me swept through me, like a charge of electricity.
Then I felt him reach the sphincter into my rectum, a sharp jolt as he pushed against it.
Repeated sharp jolts as he pulled back then pushed again.
My hands went to his hips, pushing against him, wanting him to go slow.
Deep breaths. Deep breath and holding it.
Then pushing down on him, hard, hurting, – hurting beyond belief, – the muscles around the ring stretched, and stretched beyond what I ever thought they could be.
Then, just as I was beginning to think I would have to ask him to stop, suddenly I could feel the muscle yielding, – a break through – his hard-on pushing through, entering me, slowly, half-inch by half-inch, penetrating me, huge, and hard, into my rectum, filling it. More than filling it.
“Fuck,” I said, and kept repeating it, “Fuck.” “Oh, fuck.”
“You’re okay?” he wanted to know.
“Mmmm, fuck, yeah,” I said, “more than okay.” ‘Oh, man, I’m loving this,’ I thought to myself.
I reached round to where I could feel his cock in my anus. I measured three fingers. Three fingers more. I wanted it all.
I began squeezing, working to draw him further and further in, at the same time thrusting up my hips up to him – the muscle hurting, on the point of being able to take no more, ignoring it to push against him, wanting him in deep.
Hurting again, the muscle stretching till it was like I couldn’t take it any more, at the same time, wanting to accommodate him, him inching slowly into me.
Fuck it hurt. Fuck I wanted him. I took his hand and put his palm on my belly so he could feel himself in me.
‘Oh, man, I’m loving this,’ I thought to myself again, then I said it aloud.
“Oh, man, I’m loving this.”
“You’re not the only one,” he said. He began grinding his hips into mine, going deeper and deeper, pulling back slightly then thrusting again, deeper still, filling me, like I never felt so filled in all my life.
The hurting was now pleasure, pure physical pleasure, just like when I was in him, every cell in my body vibrating. And more than that, just like when I was in him, he was in every cell in my body, in the very fibre of my being. ‘Way too much,’ I was saying to myself. Then I said it aloud.
“Way too much.”
“Whaat?”
“I said this is way too much. Way too fucking much. That’s one helluva unit you’ve got, and much more of it, it’s gonna tear me wide open. And it’s hurting like hell, and I am enjoying every inch of it.”
“You like, eh?” he said, playfully, and thrust himself in deeper.
“Oh, fuck, do I like.”
Then, deep inside, he hit on something that felt way up in my solar plexus, sharp and not so much painful but a warning that it could be very painful; that there was danger in proceeding further; that maybe the game was over and I had better get him out of here.
My guts started churning, wave after wave working at expelling him from my rectum.
“Easy. Easy,” he said, “Deep breaths. Take deep breaths.”
I took in a deep breath. Then slowly exhaled. Another, exhaling again.
He lay perfectly still, still in me, but not moving.
“Too much?” he asked.
“Yeah. Whatever you hit there ..”
“Sorry,” he apologized. “We’ll give it a rest.”
He had his arms around me, holding us chest to chest.
Then, slowly, I began to feel him rotating his pelvis around where he had me.
Slowly, setting up a roll. I began to roll with him.
Slowly. Then circling wider I could feel he was exploring me, on the inside.
Thrusting, in and out. And each thrust finding a new pleasure spot.
“Yes. There,” I heard myself, ‘Give it to me.” “Give it to me, there.” “There.” Again.
” “Yes.” “Yes'”, I heard myself saying, “All of it, I want you to give me all of it.”
Slowly, setting up a momentum, matching his rhythm. I began rolling with him. Then we were rocking. Rocking and rolling. ‘Oh, man,’ I was thinking, ‘this is too good. Too good.’
I heard myself moan. Then his mouth was on mine, mine searching his, hungry, wanting it, wanting it bad.
Then somewhere down near my pubic bone he hit on something that sent a shudder through me, and everywhere, indescribable pleasure, like fireworks, giant chrysanthemums exploding, my whole self exploding.
“Oh, oh, oh,” I was moaning. Ecstasy. He hit it again. Again fireworks, chrysanthemums, double chrysanthemums, red, blue, white, purple gold, repeating and repeating, trailing stars. Again. Ecstasy. Higher and higher.
In my ear his voice was saying, “You like?”
“I like,” I am saying, “I like!” Emphatically.
Then our mouths merged, pressed together. I was frenzied wanting more. More of his mouth. More of what he was doing to me in my belly.
The rhythm of his thrusts was changing, now short, quick, deeper, like he was swelling in me. ‘He’s coming,’ I thought. I am moaning in his ear. “I want it,” I am saying. “I want you.”
I am rocking with him, drawing him further and further into me with each thrust, beyond the point of hurt, hurting that has become pleasure. Pure pleasure. And each time, hitting up against whatever it was – my prostate – firing off those chrysanthemums of sheer ecstasy