Page 32 of Never Forget

“We need more⁠—”

“Shh.”

It’s really hard to protest when my mouth is being ravaged and the tip of my cock is being engulfed by the hottest, tightest, most perfect pressure. I’m worried there isn’t enough lube or that he hasn’t prepped well enough for it not to hurt him, but my brain stops functioning and my vision goes white as my crown squeezes through that first tight ring of muscle. It’s all I can do to hold myself back, to not slam myself the rest of the way inside and fill his ass with my already rapidly building orgasm.

I hold my breath as Naz works himself open on my cock, slowly and methodically, his strong thighs flexing, knees squeezing my hips as he pushes himself up and lowers himself down bit by bit. When he’s finally fully seated, he pauses, giving himself a moment to adjust before he lifts himself again and starts to ride me. It’s slow at first, almost torturous. As he picks up speed, our kisses turn into an exchange of breaths instead. He pants into my mouth as he fucks himself up and down my cock while I squeeze my arms around his waist and hold on for dear life.

We’ve never done this before. Sex has always been part of an exchange, part of a game with rules and a firm understanding of boundaries. It’s never once been spontaneous or come without the added ritual of the roles we take for our sessions. We don’t even call it sex. It’s simply a session or play. But this…

Naz groans my name, his voice raspy and needy with a tinge of demand. He pushes off my chest, arching his back and sinking his nails into my pecs. “I’m close… I need…”

When we play, he isn’t allowed to come without my express permission. I tell him when or if he can, where or how to do it. When it comes to anal, he usually needs the added stimulation of a hand or something on his dick to bring him over the edge. It’s currently rubbing against my stomach, a steady stream of precum leaking between our bodies, but there isn’t enough friction to get him there.

Not wanting this to be over yet and determined to make every moment of this night different from anything we’ve ever had before, I abruptly lift Naz and lower us onto the floor so I’m on top of him. He makes a soft grunt of displeasure when I pull out of him, never taking his hands and mouth off me as I reach over his head to my duffel and rummage inside. He squeezes, massages, kisses, licks, and sucks every available inch of skin until I locate my bottle of lube and pull back to squeeze some directly on his ass before pushing back inside. The noise he makes—pleasure and relief in one breathy moan—is almost enough to make me feral.

Settling my body over his, I hook my arm under one of his legs and focus on keeping my strokes slow and deep, rolling my hips with each thrust until I know I’m hitting the right spot. Naz gasps when I do, his hole spasming around my cock.

“Shit, there…”

With a satisfied grunt of pleasure, I let the caveman inside me take over, taking possession of Naz’s body, folding him to my will, making that little spot inside him belong to me. My thrusts pick up, driving into him faster and harder without losing the direct angle that has him making noises I’ve never heard him make before. His nails dig into my back, his spine bows, and he throws his head back with a sharp cry as his hole clenches around me so tight I have no choice but to follow him over the edge with a guttural moan that sounds more like a wild animal than a man. Pleasure explodes from my core, shooting up and down my spine and extending to every finger and toe and hair follicle. My toes literally curl and my vision blurs. His release sprays between us as mine jets deep inside him, and I keep thrusting, drawing out his orgasm and pushing mine deeper inside.

Goddamn, nothing has ever felt this good in my life. I never want to stop. If I was physically able, I’d keep fucking into him until I was hard again and start all over. I’d fill him up again and again, and when I was too tired to keep going, I’d make him ride me until I got my second or third or fourth wind. Anything just to stay inside him like this.

When my body is shaking too much to hold myself up, I roll us so he’s on top of me again. My softening cock slips out and lands wetly against my thigh.

Naz stiffens, and I wonder if he realizes the same thing I just did.

I came inside him.

That’s also new.

We haven’t used condoms since we decided we’d make our sessions a regular thing and we both got tested, but I’ve never finished inside him. It’s not a specific rule or anything, it’s just not something we’ve done before. I usually mark him with it, coming all over his face or chest or ass. Sometimes I feed it to him and make him swallow every last drop before he’s allowed to come. Sometimes I like to rub it all over him, massaging it into his skin. But never inside.

Having my load inside him like this feels…

Intimate.

And probably far more exciting than it should be. Like I own his insides now.

I tighten my grip around him and keep him in place, his chest against mine and legs straddled around my waist. He tries to lift his head but thankfully gives up and lets his face fall into the crook of my neck.

This might not have been a session in any other sense of the word, but he knows damn well I don’t skimp on aftercare. Which means we’re going to lie here and cuddle, my hand gently running up and down his back, until we’ve both come down enough. Only then will I clean us both up and check him over, apply some gel to his probably swollen hole, and happily listen to him grumble about it the whole time.

When my heart rate finally settles and I’m no longer dizzy from the force of coming harder than I ever have in my life, I notice how soft and even Naz’s breaths are. I don’t dare move, not even when my back begins to ache and the dried cum starts to itch and it’s kind of hard to breathe because Naz is not a small man. I just lie there and continue stroking his back, soaking up every soft puff of breath against my throat.

I know the exact moment Naz wakes up. The change is subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it, but I’m attuned to him enough that I notice even the smallest micro-expressions.

His breathing changes first, losing the deep, even rhythm of sleep. Then there’s the tension that creeps into his body as he slowly remembers where he is. The slight hitch in his breath when he realizes he’s fallen asleep in my arms.

I keep my eyes closed. Partly because I’m curious what he’ll do, but mostly because I know he felt the shift between us last night. It was probably much more than he intended to give, and he’ll likely need some time to process. If I’m being honest, so do I. I need time to brace myself for the inevitable retreat behind his carefully maintained wall of sarcasm and distance—a wall I can usually only break down when we’re in a session but came down so easily last night without a lick of pretense or play.

I pretend to still be asleep as Naz carefully untangles his body from mine and gets up from the floor, then listen to his bare feet pad across the trailer. The bedroom door opens and closes.

For a while, I just lie here staring at the scenes from last night replaying behind my eyelids. Sleeping on the floor with a six-foot, one-hundred-and-seventy-pound man draped over me wasn’t exactly comfortable. My back hurts. My neck hurts. My right arm has completely lost feeling from my fingers to my shoulder.

But none of that matters. Last night was different.

Not just the sex. I mean, the sex was otherworldly, so definitely the sex. Not only that, though. Everything that came before it stays with me just as much. The way he slowly thawed to my presence, wordlessly pouring me a glass of iced tea when he got one for himself. The conversation on the deck, the way he opened up about his parents and grandparents.