He grins, that spark in his eyes turning wicked. “But if you wanted to be a good boy and let me feast on you, I wouldn’t complain.”
I close my eyes, and Greg spreads me wide. His tusks scrape my butt cheeks in that way that makes my insides smolder as he kisses around the perimeter. A few months ago, I would’ve thought he was mocking me, but now I know this is him warming things up.
“Gregory, please.” I arch my back, and, taking the hint, he dives in.
That tongue—long, thick, rough in all the right places—works me over, priming my hole for what’s coming next. In the six months we’ve been together, Greg has really let go of his inhibitions. The noises he makes—slurping, grunting, sucking—sound like he hasn’t eaten indays and is finally feasting, completely lost in the moment.
“Mmmh, Greg,” I moan into the bed. “Please. Please.”
He pulls back, apparently hearing my mumbling. “Are you ready to get fucked?”
“By you?” I reach back and spread myself wide, letting him see. “Open and ready… like a gift you’ve been dying to unwrap.”
“Well…” I hear the lube click open. “It’s not my birthday. But damn, if this isn’t the prettiest present I’ve ever received.”
His powerful hands grab my waist and hoist me up so I’m on all fours. We’re at the point where I don’t need to ease into things by riding him. Because I'm unable to keep my hands off the sexy AF IT nerd I live with, we're having sex at least a few times a week. My ass has officially acclimated.
And when he lines up behind me, the air changes. Charged. Familiar. Electric.
Carefully, his cock breaches my hole, and the fullness of having him inside me zips a surge through my entire body. I glance down and notice precum dripping from my dick. He’s got me dialed up to ten.
Greg pauses, all the way inside, waiting for me. This is our thing now. Once I’m ready, I push back, just a little, then rock forward, initiating the rhythm, until I pass the baton to my gorgeous mate.
“Okay, okay,” I murmur. “All systems go. Now, pound me.”
His muscular hands seize my waist. He slides out, leaving the plump head in, then, before he moves, I add, “Hard.”
My Greg does exactly what I ask, thrusting into me with force and determination. We find our rhythm quickly, his thick thighs slapping against my ass in a steady, hungry tempo. When I look back, he’s got one hand tucked behind his head, that perfect armpit on full display—a patch of dark hair matching his head—and it’s honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Such a fucking good boy.” He gives my ass a soft slap, and shivers of pleasure radiate through me.
For a few minutes, it’s nothing but motion—Greg’s grunts, my moans, and the slurp of his fat cock driving in and out of me. Then he pulls out, and when I look back, he’s sprawled on his back, every inch of him handsome, chest heaving, cock still hard and glistening with lube. I crawl up beside him and rest my head on his chest.
“Just need to catch my breath,” he says between gasps.
“Take all the time you need.” I rest my hand on his stomach, still half in disbelief that he’s got a six-pack when he barely works out and eats like calories are just a suggestion. He swears it’s genetics, which should make me hate him, but I don’t. Hard to hate someone I get to enjoy this much.
I kiss his chest, giving his piercings special attention, and apparently the contact of my lips on his skin is enough, because his cock comes to life, pulsing up, aching for contact.
“Someone seems… ready,” I say.
He chuckles, and I reach down and give him a few strokes. When Greg’s hips lift, I get an idea.
“Hold on.” I reach into the nightstand and pull out the toy I bought a few months back—green, thick, and curved like it’s auditioning to be Greg’s stunt double. It’s not quite the real thing—no warmth, no pulse, no adorable tusky grin—but close enough to make me thankful for express shipping.
I grab a pillow from the head of the bed and pat his ass. “Lift, please.”
He obliges, hips rising obediently, muscles flexing. I slide the pillow under, adjusting until I’ve got the angle just right. Perfect.
“Now,” I say, climbing astride him, my knees bracketing his waist. “You’re going to fuck me.” I hold up the toy. “And I’m…” I grin down at him. “Going to fuck you like a good boy.”
His eyes go wide for a second—half surprise, half pure hunger—before that delicious smile spreads across his face, all teeth and tusks and anticipation.
I slick everything up—generous, messy, thorough—because if there’s one thing Greg’s taught me, it’s that preparation is key. Then I reach back, press the tip of the toy against his hole, and to my surprise, he’s already relaxed, ready. My brows lift as the green silicone slides in with almost no resistance.
“There’s my beautiful, horny hole,” I tease, earning a low rumble from his chest. “You like that fat toy inside you?”
Greg nods quickly, that dorky smile lighting up his handsome face.
