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This wasn’t just sex.
This was desperation. Need. Fucking desire.
My head went into that strange place where I wanted to swallow him whole, get on top of him and be where he was. In the moment. Us.
I rolled him over, straddling his legs, and got our dicks lined up with my hands around them both, as his arms flew up so he could hold himself steady. With his head shoved up into the remaining pillow, banging against the headboard, I jerked us both off in a frenzied manner.
I should have got the lube out.
I should have stopped.
There was no way I could stop.
His whole back arched off the bed, his face twisted in what looked like pain but I knew was that state when your mind went blank.
And he roared.
Fuck. Fuckety-fuckety-fuckety fuck.
My dick next to his would’ve been enough, but his cum hitting my fingers was more than I could take.
Sex was never like this.
It wasn’t like what you saw on TV. Or in films for that matter. In reality, people didn’t come like this. Together. It was a joint effort, teasing that elusive orgasm out of your partner. Working for it. Using little words to slowly and carefully tip the other person over the edge.
He’d just nosedived straight off the cliff, and now I was smearing his cum all over my dick and carelessly throwing myself headfirst into a blinding crevasse of an orgasm.
I didn’t think a single, coherent thought after that. Not until I found myself on his chest with his arms around me and my head being bounced around by his erratic breathing.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“The fuck was that?”
God, I laughed. This man. He’d be the death of me.
“That, muffin, was one hell of a messy hand job.”
“Muffin? What the hell?”
“Muffin. Suits you.”
He just laughed.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. Just checking. No idea what happened. I didn’t plan on that.”
“These things are rarely planned. It’s apparently what happens when we order takeaway noodles.”
He laughed and kissed the top of my head as I wriggled further into him. I had no idea what that conversation had been about but, anyway.
His body. Insane. My leg over his crotch, my arm slung around his shoulder, my lips somewhere in his neck.
“The noodles will be cold.”
