Chapter 18 – Braxton #3
"Put it in!" I demand. "Put your fucking dick in my ass."
Thank God there isn't a mirror in sight.
I'm certain my face is flushed red, and I absolutely never want to see myself like this.
Begging for cock. When his fingers retreat, I look over my shoulder to find him prying his cock through the slit of my boxers.
He looks so fucking sexy in them—looks like a straight boy.
This particular thought elicits a chuckle from me, but one that is quickly stuffed down and replaced with a nervous gulp.
I watch as he slicks his cock. Thick cock. Thicker cock than I ever remember. Why does it look so fucking big right now? The crown is at least the same circumference as five fingers. Maybe even six. There's no way in hell that thing's going to fit in this virgin hole.
Pookie's dark eyes light up as he scoots closer to me, tapping his slick cock on my ass cheek. He leans forward, holding the weight of his body up on one arm on the right side of my head as he guides his cock against the opening with the other.
"Fuckkkkk," I groan, the echo of my cry hurling towards the door that I realize isn't locked. He presses forward, and... "Nope," I scowl, shaking my head. "Not going to work."
He pulls back to a seated position behind me and plays with my cheeks while palming his cock. He flicks my hole with one finger and presses inside again, but I'm afraid no amount of prep work is going to let that thing fit.
Fourteen minutes left.
I'm not a fucking quitter. I clamber to my hands and knees, offering him a picturesque view of my ass. "Try it again."
"I'm so fucking horny," he whines, shifting his body behind mine again. "Do you just want to fuck me?"
I shake my head defiantly. "A promise is a promise. This ass is yours."
"Okay." He exhales. "Just work on breathing through it. I promise it gets better."
Yeah, I know that. Otherwise, no man would enjoy this. I've seen the absolute euphoric look on Pookie's face when I'm inside him. I've seen the stars in his eyes. I want to see those same stars.
But again, just this once.
His cock flirts with the rim again, his flesh feeling hotter than it has any right to against the tender flesh of my asshole. I grit through the pain when he inches forward, the head of his cock stretching me to my limits. I grind my teeth and drop my head into the pillow, and he stills himself.
Did I ever mention he's the most patient guy in the world?
He caresses the lower part of my back, massaging me gently as he rests. And this might be hyperbole, but I think I can feel his cock throbbing, and can practically visualize precum seeping from his cockhole.
Wow, that's a new thought.
When he inevitably comes inside me, how long will his DNA be a part of me? Forever? Have I left a DNA marker inside every person I've ever fucked? He inches forward, the burning sensation tearing through the nonsense thoughts in my mind.
Eleven minutes.
The longer we stay frozen in place, the deeper his fingers dig into my hips.
Come morning, I will be covered in bruises from the Battle for Braxton's Hole.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and pulls his dick free.
He gives it a few strokes as he fingers me again, and if I'm being honest, I think I prefer the dick over the finger, which I know makes no fucking sense.
"Lay down on your stomach," he says, and I'm open to any and all suggestions.
I do as he tells me to, cradling my arms around the pillow. He spreads my thighs with his knees and pours a generous helping of lube directly onto my hole. The coolness of the sticky goodness is a sharp contrast against the stinging of my stretched rim.
He slaps his cock against my opening a few times and then works his way inside again. He makes it all the way to the sphincter before I have to reach behind to hold him still. "Easy there, partner."
If he's annoyed at how long this is taking, he has a great poker face.
A smile hitches over his lips and I've never wanted to kiss them so bad in my life.
I claw at the back of his head and guide his mouth to mine.
And when he kisses me, I feel a weight lifted from my body.
The tension seems to melt away and without even trying, I feel his cock shift inside me.
Pushing just a little bit deeper, and while the sting is still there, it's not quite as bad.
I hungrily devour his mouth, chewing and biting at his lips until we're both a hot, wet mess. I shift back to my knees and raise my back until I'm pressed against his chest. He moves a hand to my stomach, palming over my abs.
Five minutes.
I grab a fistful of his hair and push backward, rewarding myself with another half-inch of his cock.
Finally, I figure out this is the best way to accommodate his width.
A half inch at a time. He mouths over the side of my throat, holds a firm hand over my stomach, and whispers sweet nothings in my ear: "You feel so fucking good," "Oh my God," "Almost there. "
And all I can do in return is moan. For one night only, I'm his little cock slut.
He pushes past the sphincter and lets out a low-pitched moan of pleasure that somehow drowns out the high-pitched squeal that embarrassingly stumbles past my lips.
And then he stills himself again, and thank fucking god, because I feel like I'm being pulled apart from the inside. Painful, but oddly euphoric.
Two minutes.
"A promise is a promise," I grumble and arch my ass all the way back, swallowing his cock to the hilt. I'm met with a stinging, burning pain that I'd regret if it didn't feel quite so perfect. Again, euphoric.
I think he's found my prostate because there's no other explanation. This has no business feeling this good. He shudders against my ear, little ragged, hot breaths nipping at my lobes.
One minute.
So fucking close, but I can't move. Not yet. Running out of time, though. I lean forward, carefully lowering myself to my hands and knees while making sure his cock doesn't move inside me. Of course, this is an impossible task, and he does move. Just a bit. Just enough to make my vision blur.
Then, he arches back, dragging his cock with him.
It's like I'm a puppet, and his cock is pulling my strings.
I choke out a moan that turns into a sharp gasp when he rocks forward.
He adjusts his grip on my hips, looser now.
And he works me at a steady pace that I'm not quite certain I'm ready for, but we're past the point of no return.
His thrusts become longer, filling me almost to the hilt and then stealing it all back.
It's a slow dance that's designed to turn men like me into submissive bottoms. And it's kind of working until he tops a little too hard and lands a sharp blow against the deepest part of me, burying himself completely just as the clock strikes midnight.
Just as the first firework sizzles into the sky, combusting in a gold explosion of glitter right outside the hotel window.
The first firework is followed by a mob of more, all sorts of colors—reds, blues, pinks, and white. And I don't know if it's the celebratory display outside or if I'm actually seeing stars, but I always deliver as promised.