Page 17 of The Jock Next Door

“I think... yeah. Starting to.”

“Good.” He kisses my shoulder. “Because from here, it only gets better.”

I crane my neck to find his lips, and we kiss with his cock buried to the hilt inside me. It’s different from the one before. Slow, deep, exploring. His tongue slides against mine and his full lips feel like pillows. I’m struck by how soft he can be. So much of him is hard. His body, his stubble, the thing currently locked inside me. But his lips, his touch, they’re gentle. And this kiss, with my head turned at an awkward angle, is everything. I could stay like this for hours, locked together.

With his tongue still in my mouth, he pulls back. Almost all the way out, leaving just the tip. My hole clenches around him, refusing to let go. Then he slides back in, one steady glide until he’s flush against me again. The kiss swallows the sting, and all that’s left is the movement, the friction, the fullness. In and out. Again. Slow, deep thrusts that make me moan into his mouth.

He’s right. It does get better. Each retreat leaves me hollow, each return floods me with sensation. The ache opens into pleasure. My body learns to take him, to welcome him, to crave him. My hips rock back to meet his, and he lets me, following my rhythm.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes against my ear. “Take what you need.”

I need more. More of him, more of this, more of the feeling that’s building deep in my core. He reads it without me saying a word. The pace picks up, the slow glide becoming harder, faster. Long, powerful thrusts, pulling out until just the head is inside me, then driving back in.

I have to turn back to the easel to brace myself. My knuckles are white on the wood frame. I invested in a sturdy one, and right now it’s being tested. Trey’s hips slap against my ass, loud and wet. The sound of two bodies meeting with abandon. His grip on my hips is bruising, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. He’s fucking me. He’s really fucking me. And God, I love it.

I was wondering if an ass was even designed for this. Now I’m certain it was. There’s no way anything feels this good by accident. That deep, internal thrumming. The way the pleasure radiates out, reaching my fingers and toes. An ass is absolutely, one hundred percent designed to take a cock. And I mourn every year I’ve wasted with this perfect, built-for-pleasure part of my body, completely ignorant of what it could do. Like finding out you’re a mermaid at twenty and realizing you’ve spent your whole life on land.

“Harder,” I gasp.

His response is a growl I feel in my bones. He obeys, pounding into me with a force that makes the easel rattle. The portrait, my wild, abstract Trey with the oversized cock, flutters under the clip. A pencil rolls off the shelf and clatters to the floor.

“This what you had in mind?”

“Yes,” I moan. “More.”

“Getting demanding now. I like it. The shy little artist wants to get fucked. So goddamn sexy.”

“I didn’t know,” I pant, barely getting the words out between thrusts. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“How good this would feel. I didn’t know, Trey.”

“Good thing you got me to show you.”

He’s showing me everything. I’m a blank canvas, and he’s working me over with broad, decisive strokes. Filling me in. Layer after layer. The colors are vivid, nothing like my usual muted palette. Gold, crimson, a shocking blue behind my eyelids.

And the sounds. God. His grunts, the slap of skin on skin, my own breathless cries. And filthiest of all, the wet, sucking sound of my stretched hole greedily taking him in and clinging to him on the way out.

There’s a puddle of lube and precum on the floor between my feet. I look down and watch my hard cock bounce, leaving glistening strings in the air with every impact. I didn’t know my body could produce this much. It’s in overdrive, leaking and sweating and tearing up, fluids seeping from every pore and opening.

And instead of shame, I feel a surge of power. This is what he’s reduced me to. A shuddering, leaking mess. And he loves it. I can feel it in how far gone he is, grunting with effort, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my back. He’s into me in a way I didn’t know was possible. Unabashed. Hungry in a way that mirrors my own.

I’ve always figured I was undesirable. Not in a self-pity way, just as fact. I’ve got the right components, but they’re assembled wrong. All angles and planes. Hair with a mind of its own. A default expression best described as confused owl. But Trey, who could have anyone on this campus, is into me. Into my body, my shy fumbling, my big eyes. Everything I thought made me weird and off-putting, he finds hot. The evidence is a solid nine inches rearranging my internal organs.

“You’re getting loud, Nico. Whole floor’s gonna hear how good I’m giving it to you.”

“I… don’t… care.” I really don’t. Let them hear. Let them know I’m getting railed by the jock next door.

“Yeah? You like people knowing you’re mine?”

My ass clenches around him. That word. Mine.

“Oh, you liked that.” He half-laughs, half-groans. “Me being all possessive. Not wanting to share this tight little hole with anyone.”

“Yours,” I whimper. “It’s yours.”

“Fuck yes it is.” His grip on my hips tightens, nails digging in. “Scream my name. Let everyone know.”