17. Clark
Clark
While it was true that I had done a little edging in my past, I’d researched how to do it to a man. I could see why that was his favorite porn. The videos I researched were so fucking hot, and I had no idea if I was up for the task.
The fact that it worked, that he came like a fountain, was … incredibly satisfying.
I fully expected revenge for keeping him on edge for so long.
The second he had recovered enough, though, he grabbed me and tossed me face down on the bed.
“You still good for this?” he asked, nipping at my ass.
“I was edging myself,” I admitted, lifting my hips. “I’m dying here.”
He chuckled, seemingly happy with that information. Before I could beg—which I was one hundred percent willing to do—he buried his face in my ass.
God, his tongue. Licking, teasing, nipping at my hole, driving me half wild. I wanted his tongue inside me so badly, but was weirdly shy about asking—ah, ah, ah.
He didn’t need to be asked. I gripped the sheets as he pushed inside, still blown away by the fact that I could fucking orgasm this way. Ass play was the fucking best.
I could’ve come from his tongue alone, but we had a mission. I whined when he pulled back, then groaned when he pressed his lubed finger inside me. So fucking good… Oh, fuck. The second finger. Were his fingers this thick the first time around?
And then I looked over at his cock and remembered why all this prep was necessary to begin with.
He took his time stretching me, stroking me, adding a third finger. Stopping when I got close.
It was what I deserved.
When he finally grabbed the dildo, a shiver went through my body.
“You still okay to do this? We can stop.”
“No! I need it. Now.”
Beau seemed pleased with that answer.
He made a big deal of showing me how much lube he was using, both on the dildo itself and on my ass. He was careful as he touched the tip to my hole.
“I’m not made of glass. Do it.” Yeah, I was not above begging. “Please.”
He leaned forward, kissing one of the dimples above my cheeks. Then, slowly, slowly, slipped the dildo inside. “How’s that?”
He’d done a good job stretching me, but this was … Jesus. How the hell was I supposed to fit his actual cock inside me?
“Intense. Good.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked. “Do you think you can relax a little more?”
Not if you’re gonna keep calling me sweetheart, for fuck’s sake.
“Have you met me?” I joked through gritted teeth.
He kissed the other dimple and pulled the dildo almost all the way out before reversing course and pushing it back in. He did this a few times, and slowly but surely, my muscles relaxed. And it began to feel better. Weird and kinda … not as good as his fingers? But good.
“You are so beautiful,” he said as he gently rogered me.
“Well, I’m feeling pretty vulnerable, so…” I joked.
“Vulnerable, but … okay?” he asked. “Like, it feels good?”
“Yeah…” I let my head hang. I needed to focus.
He stopped. “You don’t sound so sure.”
I looked over my shoulder. He looked concerned and so fucking sexy. Like in a protective way. He raised his brow.
Oh, communication, right.
“I mean … it’s not quite the right texture, maybe? Or temperature? But it still feels nice.”
“What would make it feel better?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Probably if it were your cock.”
“Ah,” he said, sliding it out.
Shit. I think I just ruined this whole thing. Also, why do I feel so fucking empty?
I leaned forward on my forearms and wiggled my ass at him. “I didn’t say you had to stop!”
He grabbed a cheek, shaking it. “I’m not stopping.”
“No?”
“Put it to you this way: after what you did to me, I shouldn’t be able to get it up for at least another three business days,” he whispered roughly. “But with your ass on display like this, I’m hard all over again.”
I whipped around to see for myself. Sure enough, there was his erection, bobbing. Huge. Mouth-watering.
“So, if you wanna…” He gestured to his cock, which struck me as funny.
“We’ll make it fit.”
I could not believe those words fell out of my mouth. Who the fuck was I?
“You really want all of this?”
I looked over my shoulder again. Hoo-buddy. That was a big dick.
“Yeah, I think I would.”
He swallowed thickly. “I brought condoms,” he said carefully, “but I wasn’t assuming, I promise.”
“I bought a douche from a lady who was old enough to see Star Wars in the theater. Get the condoms.”
The bed shifted when Beau got up. He dug through his overnight bag as I remained ass up, on my knees and forearms. Waiting for a cock was awkward; there was no way around it. Not that you could’ve moved me from this spot for all the money in the world.
“Turn over,” he commanded. “I need to see you.”
You don’t hafta tell me twice.
I spun over and settled back against the pillows. By the time he returned to the bed, I had my legs bent at the knees, open to him.
He took a deep breath, almost as if to fortify himself before rolling the condom down his slightly terrifying length. He knee-walked between my legs, his massive thighs flexing, arms and pecs rippling as his cock and balls bobbed. He set a pillow under my hips.
“You still good?”
I nodded, taking him all in. “Better than I’ve ever been.”
He grinned, leaning forward, touching his lips to mine as he lightly pressed his cock against my hole. He deepened the kiss and pushed his hips forward. Just the head, just enough. I threw my head back, mouth open.
“Too much?” he asked, kissing my chin.
I shook my head. “So good.”
So much better than silicone. God.
Just like with the much smaller dildo, he patiently inched back and pushed forward, again and again, getting me used to his size. If I thought he’d stuffed me with that trial dildo, this was a whole new level. I went soft, but I couldn’t worry about that now.
“It’s like having the Chrysler building up my ass,” I groaned, laughing.
“Do we need to take a break?”
His gentle words were everything to me, and I made sure I had his full attention when I answered him.
“Do not stop,” I demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
We snort-laughed, which … ouch. Then … ahhh.
He didn’t stop, but I was grateful that he took his time. Finally, after God knew how long, he was fully seated.
“Well, you’ve ruined me for all other men,” I cracked.
I thought I’d at least get a pity laugh, but all I got was silence.
My eyes fluttered open, and the expression on his face was so serious that I almost wanted to take back the stupid joke.
I reached out, cupping his jaw. He turned his head and kissed my palm, and it hit me that not one bit of this was funny.
“I’m so glad I’m doing this with you,” I murmured.
He nodded, his expression softening as he kissed me again. Finally, he began thrusting. Like him, I had no control over the sounds that flew out of my face. At first, I was just bearing down, enduring it, hoping to … I don’t know. Get used to it?
Thankfully, his thorough prep and patience eventually allowed me to relax. We found a rhythm and oh.
Broad spectrum pressure against my prostate was—ah, fuck—really fucking amazing. The way his fat head dragged against it back-and-forth, back-and-forth, I realized something crucial.
“So there’s like an ass orgasm and a cock orgasm?”
“Yes,” he said, chuckling. “That’s why some guys can come hands-free. Most guys don’t, at least not all the time, so you stimulate both at the same time.”
“Well, I am absolutely certain that I won’t need your hands with this fucking baseball bat shoved up my ass.”
He laughed. “But you want my hands, don’t you?”
“Please.”
The way he rolled his hips was hypnotic, and when he reached between us and started stroking me with a slick hand, I thought I’d astral projected into Valhalla.
My cock, which had been soft nearly this whole time, revived in his hearty grip.
The sensations from my ass and from his hand were like a two-stroke engine, getting me higher and higher and higher.
I had the horrifying notion that he could absolutely take away his hand and his cock and leave me hanging the way I had left him hanging for damn near an hour.
Thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, an orgasm like I’d never had before crawled up my spine and out to every skin cell.
Violent, precise, far too much. I shouted as the orgasm took over my body.
I could see musical notes and hear in color.
Beau was grunting, breathing hard, his face contorted with pleasure. My overworked nerves were screaming, but I needed his orgasm like I needed my next breath. He stiffened, his mouth falling open, staring into my eyes as he shivered and came. And came.
We were both gasping for air, trying to kiss, trying to remember our fucking names. The look he gave me … I felt it in my toes. Passion. Desire. Need. We’d just come our brains out, but he looked like he wanted more.
Not more sex. Just … more.
Me too.
We stayed together as long as we could. He was careful as he pulled out, though I couldn’t help my grimace.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said, kissing me between the words, awkwardly trying to manage the condom with his rapidly softening dick.
“It’s good, you’re good,” I reassured him, returning his kisses.
He ditched the condom, then rolled on top of me, knowing how much I loved that.
“This okay?”
“Perfect,” I hummed.
We stayed in that position a while, but eventually the sweaty stickiness between us needed to be dealt with. He took me into the shower and washed me up. Made me lean against the cool tile so he could examine me. It was sweet and a little dirty.
“Fuck, look at this used hole,” he murmured appreciatively.
He licked me, entering me with his tongue until a sweet, gentle orgasm settled over my bones.
I hadn’t been lying.
He really had ruined me for every other man.