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His voice sounded incredulous, as if he’d thrown it out there expecting me to politely decline. Whatever, whenever, I’d said. And I was a guy true to my word. Evan wasn’t to know that I never…mmm. Another delicious slide against my hole.
Bottoming had never been truly bad. More like I was indifferent. But if I did it this once, then Evan’s turn would be next. I could treat this as my opportunity to show him the basics, and we’d take it from there.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I stayed on my belly. Well, I rose to my knees and elbows actually, presenting myself like one of my cows, hiding my shrivelled cock. I told him he didn’t need a condom, seeing as I tested regularly and being faithfully married, he’d never felt a need, but he slicked one on anyway. His serious nature meant he took all his responsibilities carefully. Another of his endearing features.
An old bottle of lube lived in my bedside drawer in case of unforeseen guests, such as the RAC man. I’d never anticipated using it on myself. I prepped—hastily, because I wanted it done before I changed my mind, and badly, because I was unfamiliar with the task and aware I was being watched. Though even my half-hearted efforts turned Evan on. In the dim light, his eyes were wide as saucers and his dick straining. As I cranked my arm around and clinically did the business, I imagined his reaction to watching a natural bottom make a play of prepping himself and smiled inwardly, relaxing a little. He’d probably ejaculate on the spot.
“God, you’re beautiful, Rob.” He sat back on his haunches, and the tip of his tongue swept across the edge of his teeth. One hand was wrapped around the base of his dick, squeezing himself. The other reached out, and his fingers probed delicately at my wet hole, making me flinch. “You have a curl of hair, right over your…yeah, right over it. And you…you…oh, fuck, you are all slippery and open…you’re almost quivering.”
Usually so steady, his voice was an awed whisper. His heated gaze drilled into me, penetrating my soul, twisting my insides into hot lava. He started a more purposeful rhythmic squeezing of his knob, long confident strokes from the root to the tip.
Even though it was such a fucking lush sight, I screwed my eyes up tight, hiding myself away, choked with embarrassment. Greedy eyes and thirsty fingers were examining me there, and so thoroughly too. Ashamed I was so open and needy for it, needy like I’d never been before. That a desperate part of me was letting him do whatever he desired because I wanted him to desire me so badly.
Squirming, I dropped my head down, then wished I could manage to hold still, because I was arching my back, offering myself up to him even more, almost as if I was fucking begging for it.
Despite his neediness, he didn’t breach me straight away. I tried to hide my awkwardness and apprehension, but maybe it showed through. Although he blanketed me with his body, his cock yet again teasing around my hole, he went no further, choosing instead to caress my shoulders and upper back. He planted a trail with his tongue down my spine, light and delicate. Warm fingers caressed the curve of my hip.
Perhaps he was stalling for his own reasons; he’d never fucked a bloke before, or so he’d led me to believe. He fondled my heavy balls with a comforting warm hand, found a spot on my neck that sparked a trembling shudder the length of my body and worked it with his lips. When the time came and he nudged against me, my cock had regained some of its former interest.
On the vanishingly rare occasions I’d found myself in this position, I bottomed like I ripped off Band-Aids. Without fuss and bloody quickly. Eyes squeezed shut, a
sting of pain at the start, an energetic burst of fucking, overseen and choreographed by me, and we were all done, bar the post-match handshake and shower. A technique not too dissimilar to how I artificially inseminated the cows, now I came to think about it.
Evan, as I rapidly discovered, preferred to peel his Band-Aids off slowly and with a surgeon’s attention to detail. Entering me took a fucking millennium; either his dick had suddenly grown fifteen feet, or he was pushing it in a millimetre at a time. Frankly, he was a show-off because no one had that level of superhuman control, not with their dick being sucked into the slippery hot grip of a tight arse like mine.
“I wanted to do this to you over the trolley in my consulting room,” he panted. A fingertip traced a path around my hole, stretched full with his dick. “When you came to see me. Examining you turned me on so fucking much, Rob. I could scarcely fucking breathe.”
“Can we—just hold it there a second? I need time to…”
“Take all the time you need, babe. I’m not in a hurry.”
That became glaringly apparent. His head dropped down to mine, and hot breath lapped at the nape of my neck. Even in my predicament, I had to admit his ability to keep still was bloody impressive. Centuries slid by before his dick twitched inside me and, with a hungry sound, he began a slow glide. The uncomfortable fullness had subsided; my insides either relaxed or gave up the fight. I couldn’t be sure.
“Do you want me to carry on, Rob?” he checked, “If it’s too much, I can stop.”
Oh my God, this man was killing me. No way would I have been able to stop at that point, in his position. I’d have barely been able to speak. Mentally and literally girding my loins, I bit out a yes.
Another hungry moan; at least one of us was enjoying themselves. With our roles reversed, that sound would have had me cantering over the finish line. As it was, it only served to make me grit my teeth harder. Holding a deep breath, I began counting cows, starting with X334, because she was a calming favourite, and working my way along an imaginary row of them patiently queueing up outside the milking parlour. Then I let the breath out slowly, lined up another row and began counting again.
I missed the exact moment when being fucked by him flipped from the wrong side of tolerable to an exquisite torture. It happened so smoothly I’m still not sure how he pulled it off. Like a sleight of hand, watched again and again without spotting the con. Maybe he distracted me with his voice, his well-to-do, determined oh yesses as he teasingly loitered on the edge of fully seating himself and giving it some welly. Or the soft skin of his hand, smoothing along my flank, a thumb circling the flesh at my hip, then pressing up and supporting my hernia, as if he knew it would ache in this position. Maybe it was the rhythmic bang of the headboard against the wall.
Or perhaps it was none of those, but the pinpoint anatomical accuracy with which he withdrew, then pushed in again, a tantalising, glacial drag against my prostate, systematically, patiently, breaking me apart. Some voodoo magic trick had me gripping the rattling headboard, pushing my arse back onto his dick in such a craven, wanton display. The only thing stopping me from hosing out no-handed onto the sheet underneath was my fucking pride.
“You want me to come inside you, Rob?” Ragged breath at my ear; he was close, so fucking close. “Do you? Or shall I come all over your back and lick it off?”
My answer was irrelevant because two more choppy thrusts and there it was, a swelling, a sudden warmth, and a fucking victory roar of approval. Evan pulled out and fell into a heap onto his back, eyes shuttered, chest heaving and mouth gaping as he clawed for air.
I straddled his chest, and just in the nick of time. A couple of firm strokes, a twist into my slit, and I was there too; the orgasm, biting at my heels since a switch flicked inside, surged through me. The first plume of spunk arced across his chest, and the next I zigzagged up his neck. With a determined cry and my hand working furiously, I plastered his face, painting a fat stripe across his open mouth. His eyes flew open with shock.
“That’s for making me bottom,” I half-laughed, half-gasped. “Consider it punishment.”
Evan huffed a laugh right back, taking his time, so bloody relaxed already, as if fucking me six ways into next week had been his divine right. As the tip of his tongue peeked out and crept across his lips, like he was licking up stray ice cream, I nearly came again. He savoured it before swallowing. “Nice. If that’s punishment, then I’m going to have you do it again.”
Pulling me down, he cradled my head against his chest and hitched the duvet up over us. His legs came around me too, pressing us closer so every part was entwined, and his lips brushed my forehead. “But if you do it again across my face without asking my permission first, babe,” he murmured, “then I might have to meter out some punishments of my own.”
He must have slipped some hospital-grade drugs into my drinks last night because that threat sat way more comfortably with me than it should. As had the pounding of my arse.
