Epilogue II
brAXTON
I'm in what I'd call the second phase of my life.
New sexual orientation, new me. I'd be lying, though, if I said it flipped my whole world upside down.
It didn't. I'm still mostly the same dumbass I've always been, but now instead of being a womanizer, I'm just a manizer.
Wait, that's not right. I'm a one-man man.
Okay, so a lot has changed.
Every day is a new day, which I guess is redundant. But so much of life is redundant, and we carry on anyway. Why do we do that? Why do we keep doing the same things over and over again? And why—
I shake away the thoughts and focus on the task at hand—making love to my husband.
Husband.
Wow.
Small word. Big meaning.
I rock into him gently, entranced by every wince and every gasp. His fingers merely graze my skin, passing over in gentle brushes that make me shudder. His feet are perched on the small of my back, his toes occasionally dancing on my ass whenever I hit that magical spot deep within.
As soon as we got back to our room, there was a tornado of clothing as we stripped ourselves naked.
I had every intention of throwing his ass on the bed and raw-dogging him from behind like I always do, but then it hit me—I've never made love to anyone.
I've fucked up and down, upside down, to the left, to the right, in pools, on bathroom sinks, even in a church once. But I never took my time with it.
Pookie deserves that, at least once. Deserves to be treated like the prince he is. Judging by the clock on the wall, it's been about twenty-seven minutes of slow thrusts. Truth be told, I probably could have come about twenty minutes ago, but again, he deserves more.
I palm a trail up his outer thigh, find my way to his ass, and squeeze it gently. His muscles are taut and strained.
Logically, I know the way my dick feels right now is because of the way we're making love.
Slow and gentle, dragging out both of our pleasure one stroke at a time.
Mentally, I keep telling myself that it feels like my dick is sheathed in satin because he's my husband, and husband hole is the best hole.
Husband hole is the goal.
This will forever be the only first time as husbands, and I want to make sure the memories last a lifetime.
I comb a hand through his sweaty hair, playing with the strands between my fingers.
His eyes glisten, his eyelids falling over them every time I drag my cock out of him, and flash open every time I thrust back in.
It's a slow dance, building to a crescendo.
"Babe..." he chokes out, and hearing him say that still stuns me, freezes me in place. I still inside him, my cock buried to the hilt. "I'm close."
"Same," I huff, but I'm committed to the bit. If he wants to come, he's free to do so, but I'm going to take my sweet time.
I get back to work doing my husbandly duty, fucking him slowly but deeply. His grip tightens on my ass, begging me to fuck him even deeper. And when I do, he lets out the sluttiest fucking moans, and fucking hell, I know I won't be lasting long either if he keeps making those sounds.
"Fuuckkkk," he cries, raising one hand to the back of my head and pulling me close. He mouths against me, stealing my breath with a kiss as he chokes on release, his orgasm painting my stomach in hot cum. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk."
My strokes become uneven, short and then long.
Desperate to feel every inch inside his spasming hole.
The tightness of his sphincter pulls me close to the edge.
And I lower my body against his, my stomach pinning his tender cock to his own, and wrap my arms around his head to hold him in place.
His breath is hot and ragged on the side of my cheek, still coming down from orgasm.
The mattress screams now, the coils in the bed squealing with every thrust. The headboard slams against the wall.
There's an animal inside me, and he's been unleashed.
I grunt, moan, cry into his ear. Sweat drips from my face, leaking onto his.
The sweet sounds of sloppy slapping echo off the walls, and I'm sorry for Gunnar on the other side of the wall who is forced to listen to this.
I tighten my grip on him, growling into his ear as my thrusts turn shallow, my cock exploding in euphoria.
And as I empty my husband seed into his husband hole, there's a frantic knock on the glass window of the balcony.
I cock my gaze to the window to find a bare naked Gunnar with his half-erect cock leaving marks on the glass.
What the fuck?
But I'm not going to let his presence ruin this very special night. This once-in-a-lifetime night. I close my eyes, pretend he isn't there, and continue thrusting until my cock is slicked in my own release.
Gunnar pounds again. I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes tighter. If I pretend he's not there, maybe he'll go away, like the monsters that used to live under my bed when I was a kid.
"What the fuck?" Pookie asks breathlessly, slapping his palm on my slick back.
"Shhh," I purr into his ear. "Pretend he's not there."
And then the glass door slides open. Gunnar races inside, slams the door behind him, and holds his hands out in protest. "Guys, I fucked up. Bad."
As if that's not bad enough, the light above the room door turns green before a familiar clicking sound can be heard from within the walls. Jules throws the door open and rushes inside with a camera on her shoulder.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Pookie screams, pulling the covers over our naked bodies. "What happened to no filming?"
Jules aims the camera at Gunnar and presses the record button, and for the first time ever, it's like Gunnar is a deer in headlights, unsure what to do. He drops his hands over his cock and smiles a shit-eating grin.
Yeah, something tells me this is going to be a good-ass season. I just hope the new production staff doesn't mind the premiere episode ending with me kicking Gunnar's ass.
I jump out of bed and chase after him, my cock still hard and swinging between my legs. I launch myself at him, tackling him to the floor.
THE END