Page 53 of Technical Advances

I couldn’t wait any longer. Standing, I quickly shed my briefs, watching Anson follow them as they fluttered to the floor. His hungry eyes snapped back to me with a crooked smile before he purposefully took me in from head to toe. He seemed to like what he saw.

I grasped his hand and climbed on the bed, knee-walking my way to the center until I felt a tug from Anson’s hand.

“Socks.” He bent, and I propped myself up in the center of the bed, waiting for him. It was my turn for my dick to stand at attention, and the thought of release became overwhelming. As Anson rose and shook his hair back behind him, a pulse had me spouting more precum than I ever remembered seeing, either from myself or someone else.

“Touch me, please.” I’d anticipated my voice would still be heavy, but instead, it came out high-pitched and desperate. It made me feel young and self-conscious for a moment, but Anson’s smile wiped every thought away except for thoughts of him.

“With pleasure,” he responded, sitting on the bed and stroking me, his hand finding the moisture and using it to slick the way.

I watched him work, my body on fire, but it was on fire for so much more than him sitting primly at my side, jerking me off. “Not what I meant,” I said, and I caught the quick look of concern on Anson’s face.

“Come. Here,” I demanded with a smirk that turned to a smile as Anson crawled up my body, his hair draped around him, framing his face just like I’d dreamed. I collected his strands in one hand, guiding him to look at me.

“Please tell me you want to fuck me. I want you inside me so bad.” As if to prove the point, I opened my legs so Anson could settle between them, our members touching and pressed between us as he got comfortable and propped himself up on his arms.

“I … yes. Yup. I can definitely do that.” I pulled him gently to me, and our lips sought each other like they were made to be united. What started out soft and sweet escalated quickly until we were both writhing as we rolled around on my bed.

I ended up on top of him and couldn’t help myself. I reached down between us and grasped us both in my hand, lifting up and separating our mouths after what seemed like forever.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Anson gasped in time to my ministrations, but then it turned to, “No, no, no,” as he hoisted himself up below me.

“Benji, sweetheart. Stop, stop! I’m going to come and … and I want to give you what you want. Please!” he shouted. I was on the brink, too, and had to fight my own instincts to stop.

I did so by jumping off of him and scrambling to the end table at the side of my bed—trying hard not to think about the fact that my dad had made the furniture in my room—as I leaned down and found the box I had made out of Lego bricks as a kid, the one that now held lube and condoms.

I had had guys in my room before and been embarrassed by my little multicolored creation, but that thought never crossed my mind as I sat up, tossed a packet on Anson’s chest, and pumped lube onto my fingers.

Anson was focused on the box even after I placed it on the nightstand, until I sat up on my knees, one hand propped up behind me as I reached back.

His eyes went wide as I stretched my arm in order to stretch something else. “This will just take a minute, baby.” I gave an up nod at the packet he was absentmindedly spinning in one hand. “Suit up.”

“Yes, yup,” he sputtered, tearing open the packet and slipping the condom on.

Straddling one of his legs, I performed a show for Anson, reaching back with lube-drenched fingers, my back arched, my mouth open.

My eyes locked with Anson’s, watching him as he pictured what I was doing behind me.

I went quickly, too ready for the main event to waste time, sure I could take what Anson had on offer. Soon, I pulled my hand around, seeking out the lube and using it to coat the condom Anson was leaking into, loving the hiss he made when I touched him. He began to sit up after I let him go, but I gently pushed him back to a propped-up position on my pillows, adjusting my body until I was straddling him fully, up by his waist.

I reached behind me and grabbed his cock, swearing I could feel it pulse as Anson gasped. I watched him like that, his head back, his chest flushed and arched. I let my free hand trace the patch of hair between his pecs, and his gaze followed. I adjusted and positioned him to my hole, and it pulled his concentration from the hand I had tickling his stomach.

“Wait!” he huffed.

“I really don’t want to!” It sounded like I was begging.

“I just … I mean … Are you ready?” He pointed vaguely at the area of my groin. You hardly prepped, Benji.” He tried to sit up again. “Let me …”

“I’m ready, baby. I promise.” I opened my mouth to convince him, but Anson’s determined nod assured me that he trusted me. I sat up straighter and sank down, holding him firmly while his tip teased my hole.

“Gently,” he chastised, affirming that I was in control and that he was worrying about me all at the same time. I eased back, allowing that first little bit of pressure, that first push, that first moment of deeper connection. I began to rock, ever so slightly allowing myself to sink a little further, a little deeper, a little closer.

Anson kept still, and those piercing-blue eyes, darkened to a wide navy, were on me like they were trying to read my every emotion. With our eyes locked, I rocked myself to a seated position.

“Holy fucking shit,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he replied, his hands finding my hips and resting softly there.

I nodded, and Anson oh so slowly lifted his hips from the bed, taking me with him. He did that a few more times before his warm hands locked in on my sides and held me firmly.