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“I want to know what it’s like. To be with a man. To fuck a man.”
These are bold statements coming from someone who practically ran from me when we first met. But Davis has changed over the months we’ve been spending together. He’s stronger now, more confident and determined, willing to take chances and step out of that perfectly painful life he allowed himself to live inside for far too long.
Leaning close, I speak with my lips against his. “Not fucking. Making love.”
Davis is old enough to know the difference, and I have no intention of allowing the man to just fuck me. Sure, I like a good hard fucking as much as the next guy, but that is not at all what I want for our first time. I’ve had too many fantasies about being intimate with him on that level. I knew that one day we’d eventually get here. Of course, I’d love to have him that way as well; to bury myself deep inside of him and teach him to explore all the beautiful parts of a man making love to him. But he’s not at all ready for something like that, and honestly neither am I. When and if I ever get the chance to make him mine in the truest sense of the word, it will happen only when he’s completely free to be with me, body and soul.
“Sure…yeah….making love.” His cheeks flush and he looks away. “Sorry about that.”
Grasping his chin, I turn him to face me. “Don’t apologize. I’d happily let you fuck me anytime. But not today. Today we take our time and learn about one another.” I offer him a soft kiss, and whisper, “Today we make love together for the very first time.”
The words sound corny, I know. But I feel like it’s important that he understands the difference, and that I’m not willing to just be a convenient orifice for him to lose himself in. There’s ownership in making love to someone. Responsibility. Patience. Respect. Anyone can fuck; all you need is bodies. I’m not willing to settle for that. Not today. Maybe not ever. And certainly not with him, this man who has completely stolen my heart and made it his.
Rolling away from him, I reach into the nightstand drawer and extract a bottle of lube and a condom. Bottle in hand, I turn onto my back and squirt some lube onto my fingers. Reaching between my legs, I tease my hole with my fingers, and sigh with relief when Davis seems mesmerized by the action.
“Uh…what are you doing?”
“Prepping myself. Gotta stretch it a little to take you.” My eyes drift to his more than average sized cock. “Stretch it a lot, actually.” One finger slides in deep and I sigh as the nerve endings come alive. Although I haven’t bottomed in years, I am a fan. There’s nothing like the feeling of being stuffed full, my body singing with the need for release.
Davis reaches for the lube, squirting a healthy glob onto his fingers. “I want to try.”
Curiosity is sexy as hell.
Extracting my fingers, I reach for his. “Go slow. Just one finger at first.” Guiding him down between my legs, I keep my eyes locked on his face for any sign of hesitancy or fear. He looks a little shell-shocked when his warm finger breaches my entrance and glides right in with the help of the lube. But then he sighs, shifting forward to watch his digit move in and out of my body.
“What does it feel like?”
Bliss. Absolute bliss. “Feels good. Feels real good.” I shake my head at my less than articulate explanation. “Better than you can imagine.” He pushes a little further in, hitting my prostate with the pad of his finger. I can’t even attempt to bite back the hearty moan of pleasure that escapes my mouth. “That…right there. That’s the sweet spot.” His brow is furrowed as he concentrates on the task, which is absolutely adorable. He hits it again, and rubs back and forth over the spongy gland, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. I’ve always prided myself on my endurance, but somehow Davis has me ready to come in just a few minutes. Having this end before it even gets started is not an option, so I reach down and grab onto his wrist, whispering, “Not too much. I don’t want to come yet.”
He nods, such a good student, retracting his finger all the way to the rim. I suck in a deep breath and attempt to get my bearings, before he pushes in once more, carefully avoiding going too deep.
“Use two fingers,” I urge, tipping my chin up. “And for crying out loud, give me your mouth.”
His lips slam down onto mine, tongue stroking immediately against my own. Carefully, he shoves another finger in, and I marvel at how he can be equal parts tender and intense. He kisses me with all the desperation of a man on the edge, yet he’s very careful to go slow and ease me open with only gentle fingers. Between kisses, I give him encouragement and guidance, and by the time he pushes a third finger in I’m once more barely hanging on.
“Need you in me,” I beg. Reaching out, I hand him a condom. He carefully pulls his fingers outside of my body, breathing heavily as he rolls the condom over his impossibly hard cock, then slicks his shaft with lube. His eyes meet mine and I take a moment to search his face for fear. Or worse, regret. Thankfully there’s nothing there except eagerness and need.
Without words, I pull him over on top of me, lifting up my legs into position as we start to kiss once again. The hurried desperation of our first kiss is gone, and now there’s only sweetness and honesty. We both know this is the moment of truth. We both know there’s more than friendship in this moment. It’s in each soft kiss he gives me, in the slick stroke of his tongue against mine, in the fists that are curled tight next to my head.
Then he does something completely unexpected. Something that truly speaks to the kind man he is beneath all the pain from his past. He asks for my permission. “You sure this is what you want? You sure this is okay?”
His whispered words fill my heart, until it’s overflowing with love for this special man. I offer him a nod, a murmured, “Absolutely,” and force the words I want to scream aloud to stay silent. In this moment he needs only my body and the act of lovemaking. He doesn’t need me throwing around words that will only further complicate an already complicated situation. He certainly doesn’t need the guilt that may follow….especially if he doesn’t return the affection at this deeper level. “I am absolutely sure.” Pulling him down, I kiss him hard, my hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Coming up for air, I whisper, “Make love to me.”
Taking his shaft in hand, he tips his hips and presses against the outer muscles of my entrance. I expect pain, or to at least to be uncomfortable initially; goes with the territory. But pain is the last thing I’m feeling as I watch him take such sweet care of me. He’s once more furrow-browed as he concentrates, easing past the stubborn outer muscles to glide slowly into me inch by thick inch. His eyes widen as he gasps, the tightly bound entrance no doubt gripping him like a vice.
“Fuck….this is….fuck.”
Exactly.
I have no idea how much time passes as he slowly breaches my body and eventually bottoms out. I’m exquisitely full, and I feel him everywhere. Sweat drips down his forehead as he concentrates on not moving, but rather allowing me a moment or two to get used to the feel of him. For all his hesitancy to get involved with me at the beginning, he’s taking to this new task like a pro.
My hands frame his face. “Need you to move now, baby.”
His retreat is slow. Too slow. As is the slide back in. He’s so careful with me, but his caution is unnecessary. I’m beyond ready for him to make me his in every single way.
“I won’t break.”
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he says through clenched teeth.
