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“You look so beautiful,” he whispers.
And I’m not sure if those words were meant for my ears, but my ears take them anyway.
Then, after uttering such sweet words, he gives a far firmer shove of his powerful hips.
The tip of his dick slips in.
I bite my lip and whimper out, unable to control myself.
He is big. He is very big. And even with just the tip of it in, I feel my hole stretching for him.
It’s a moment like this—and a monster dick like that—that makes lube an absolute godsend.
He gives another push.
He slips further inside.
I moan, openmouthed and noisy. My hands slap onto my body as I knead my own nipples, driven crazy by his slow and pleasingly torturous entering of my body.
“You’re so tight,” he tells me.
Then he slides in a bit deeper.
My hand goes right to my cock and strokes. I don’t even make the conscious decision to do it; I just move my hand there and let the need take over.
The pressure of Chad inside me has my cock swollen so hard, I feel like I’m stroking a slick lead pipe.
He’s gotten in deep enough where he starts to rock his body, letting his giant monster slide in and out of me, but not all the way; he keeps me filled with him every second.
I stare through the haze of ecstasy and meet his eyes.
He’s been watching me the whole time.
I wonder what the sight of my wrecked face, bitten lip, and jerking off is doing to him—knowing how insane he’s making me, seeing all of the evidence explode across my face, unhindered.
“Mmm, I don’t want this to end,” Chad tells me, out of breath.
He’s fucking me harder and harder with every second.
My cock is about to explode.
“I don’t want it to either,” I say, “but it has to.”
“I’m so close.”
“Me too. I’m fucking crazy for you, Chad.”
“I think I’ve always been,” he grunts back.
I don’t have time to interpret what he means by that. At once, I feel the inevitable breech of a cliff, and over I go. I rocket down my stomach and chest as he continues to pound me with all he’s got, muscularly and powerfully.
He isn’t long behind. As he pumps me with aftershock after glorious aftershock of my orgasm, he reaches his own, and I watch as his eyes rock back and the pleasure erupts across his face. His pumping slows down as he empties inside me, and from deep within his chest, a moan issues out his parted lips—something between a cry of pleasure and a groan of anguish.
He drops my legs and presses his hands to the mattress on either side of my body, gathering his breath, head bowed.
I reach up with my clean hand and, while my head swims in the glory of post-orgasm heaven, I stroke his hair thoughtfully.
I think I’ve always been. Those were his words.
What was he trying to say? He’s always been crazy for me?
Does he also suspect a part of him knew back then, too?
Has he always had deeper feelings for me?
“Stay inside me,” I tell him.
Chad lifts his head. His drunken eyes find mine. “Huh?”
“Stay inside me and lay on top of me.”
He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t give me a speck of a judging look, either. He simply obliges like a sudden sweetheart, gently laying his body on top of mine, one of his hands cradling my head while the other rests on my chest. My sticky, wet mess is between our bodies, and neither of us seems to care.
I bring both my hands to his back, then slowly start to stroke his skin with my fingertips, feeling at peace with something.
With his head lying on its side on my chest, he reaches a hand up to my hair and gently begins to stroke it.
I close my eyes and smile.
There’s something so deeply intimate and emotional about this moment right now—and something important.
Of course everyone is close during the act of sex. Everyone is intimate when they fuck, that much is a given. But I always find the better judge of a person’s character to be what happens after the orgasm. What they do. How they react. Who they become.
Some guys are over it the moment they’ve come.
Some guys get sleepy and roll over in bed, finished, bored.
Some guys light up a cigarette, cop an attitude, then wait for you to offer to leave before kicking you out themselves.
Chad is none of those things.
Apparently, he’s a big, adorable teddy bear. A sweetheart. A caring man who obliges me, lays on top of me, and starts to run his fingers through my hair like he’s my adoring boyfriend.
A tear swells in my eye. I’m instantly emotional.
Jesus, what is happening to me?
“I can hear your heartbeat.”
I shift my face to get a look at the top of his head, surprised by his sudden words. “Yeah?”
