Loading...“Fuck”, I say to him, “if you had a pencil dick, you’d be sliding in there now, right up to your balls, all nine or ten inches of you.”
“Ten,” he says in my ear, nuzzling me.
“Ok, ten,” I say, my mouth now at his ear. “Whatever,” I smirk. ‘Ten’ I know it is. It’s our private joke. We’d measured it how many times.
I’d run the tape from his pubes to level with the slit in his dick. ‘Nine. Okay, nine and a quarter,” I would say. He’d grab the tape, run it from his pubes up and round the curve of his head to the slit. “Ten, he would say, “See,” pinching off the tape between his thumb and forefinger. “Ten.”
“Okay,” I say, “Ten.” His moment of false triumph. I am just as long, and just as big around. Ten. Hard. Six around. Just a little more. Thumb to forefinger. Metal tab to just beyond the ‘6’ on the tape. And cut.
And he’s cut. Beautiful mushroom head, ringed with a nice corona. Purple when it is engorged and he is throbbing. Shaft shiny smooth when he is hard, the skin sliding up and down nicely. Nicely veined. One of the attributes I particularly like. But where mine is more or less a straight shaft from head to pubes, his, just below the head, sort of flares out into kind of a bulge. Just a nick over the seven and a eighth around at its biggest – when he is really hard, – then tapers to six, and six all the way down into his pubes.
From what I know of anal anatomy, it’s getting this bulge through the sphincters that is the challenge. What it feels like is my sphincters, the inner sphincter especially, can just about manage to stretch to accommodate it and that’s all. Once that bulge is through and into my passage, we can rock and roll all we want. But getting it through there, it feels like he’s tearing my guts apart. Moreso when we’re just getting back together after any time apart. It’s almost like the very first time, except then we didn’t know what was happening, and now we do.
It is his head we are working to get in. I am on my back, knees bent to my shoulders, cheeks of my ass open to him. He’s between my legs, his dick to my asshole. With my hands I spread my cheeks further. He pushes, and I roll my ass around it, rocking and rolling my pelvis wanting it, eager, anxious that he get it in.
“We need a shoe horn,” he snorts.
“Yeah? Well, your turn is coming,” I snort back.
Rocking and rolling.
Then, suddenly, “Ahngh,” that moment, expected, wanted, but always a surprise, when he’s breached the outer ring, and he’s inside of me. ‘Yes. Yes,’ I say to myself. ‘Good. So good. We’ve achieved penetration. We are going to be together. Again.’
He’s stretching out now on top of me. Belly to belly. I wrap my legs around his back, my arms around his shoulders. He slithers his arms beneath me, wrapping them around me. His dick is still in my asshole. Just. Fuck, does it feel good to be holding him again.
He curls his hips into mine, and I curl mine to meet his. We are both pushing against each other. I’m bearing down on him, grunting. A prolonged guttural ‘unnnnngh’, intensifying the push to take him in.
‘I want you. I want you so much,’ I am saying to myself, ‘Oh, I want you. Way up inside me. Filling me. Like nothing else fills me.’
I push harder, – ‘unnnnngh’, – and again, ‘unnnnngh’.
‘Agony,’ I muse. ‘The agony and the ecstasy.’ Ancient Greek. Agon. The ‘challenge.’ The athletic or physical challenge. More precisely the ‘struggle.’ The lifting of the weight. The running of the race. The swimming of the lap. Then the lift achieved. The tape broached. The end touched. And then the ecstasy. The indescribably joyful satisfaction of having struggled, and of topping out. The laurel.
‘Fuuuuuuuuuuuuu’, every muscle in my body tensing. I feel him beginning to come in. Just. That’s all. But in. Success. Again tensing, “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah,” and again, “Yeaaah!,” pushing again, “Yeaaaaaah!” I let go of the breath I had been holding. We are not there yet, but I have opened up enough that I can feel him maybe just into my ass.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, “Yeah. Fuck, I like this. I fucking like this.”
“Mmm-mm,” I can hear him in my ear.
“You too?” I ask him, knowing full well he does.
“Mmm-mm,” I hear him, more emphatically, in my ear.
I am bearing down on him again, – ‘fuuuuuuuuuuuuu ..’ , – prolonged as he pushes against my inner ring, striving to let him through. “Yeah. Oh, yeah,” I am chanting again, then ‘fuuuuu ..’ again, full body tensing and holding.
I feel it happening. Penetrating further, him now beginning again to come into me, – ‘yes!’ – and I know that if I continue to push I will have him coming in even further. I hold my breath, concentrating. I feel him sliding in. ‘Yes.’ Sliding, and sliding in further, until – yes! – I can push no longer, and I let go of my breath.
In. But with more to come.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, “Fuck.” And I feel him relaxing his push, letting go of the breath that he had been holding.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I say, “I fucking like this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He nuzzles my ear with his nose. I feel his lips on my neck. Kissing me.
“Getting there, buddy, getting there,” he murmurs, still kissing me.
“Yes,” I say. I wrap my arm around to where I can take hold of him. ‘Fuck,’ I say to myself, still more than the width of my fist between my ass and the root of his dick.
“Okay,” I say, and I am bearing down on his again, every muscle in my body tensing into the push. “Nnngh.” Then again “Nnnngh.” And I feel my inner sphincter opening, him sliding, – ‘yes’ – and sliding, – ‘yes’ – and sliding further and further into me. “Fuck.” “Yes.” “Fuck. ” Way up into me. “Oh, fuck,” I am say, “fuck.” “Fuck.” “Fuck, I like this.” “Oh, man, do I like this.”
“Easy,” he says, “Just take it easy.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I won’t take it easy. I can’t take it easy. I want more of him, I want all of him, way up inside me, and I am not going to stop until I feel, until I know, I can take him in no further. I probably won’t shit right for a week, but I gotta have him way up in there. All ten inches of him. Way up in there, in my gut.
Now my body knows what to do. I am bear down on him again, risking rupture it feels like, to get him all into me. “Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh.” Fuck, it’s hurting. “More,” I urge him. “More.” Fuck. I can feel little sharp pains, higher up, pinging where he is hitting something up there. I keep bearing down on him. “More.” “More.” “More – I can take all you can give me. “I want it.” “I want it – I want all of it – way up inside.” Finally, – – one last push – damn the hurt – I want him in there, way up there. And he is. He can come in no further.
“Houston, the Eagle has landed,” I hear him.
I reach around between us and feel his pubes up against my asshole.
“The Eagle has landed,” I reply.
We’re neither of us moving. This is it. The moment of surrender. The moment of sweet surrender. Sweeping through me, emanating from where it is he is in me. Giving myself up to him. Pleasure transcending pain. The satisfaction growing, spreading through me, of him, big, inside me. At the same time, he, likewise, surrendering himself to me. His arms around me, mine holding him to me. My legs around his back, likewise holding him to me. I yielding to him, him yielding to me, and the fucking that is to come. Together. Enjoying, savouring the feeling that we are together again.
We know that feeling. We have been here before. Many times. Coupling. His dick in me. Way up in me. As high up as he can get it into me.
The agony and the ecstasy.
The ecstasy.
Good. So very, very good.
So very, very good.
“So,” I hear him, his mouth at my ear, “Been nobody, nothing up here for the last three months?”
“Whaddaya saying?” I shoot back.
“Nothing. Just saying. Just saying,” he sniggers. He knows how he can get to me, and he gets to me every time.
“Fuck you,” I say to him.
“We’ll get to that. We’ll get to that.”
“Smart-ass,” I quip. It’s sort of our standard repartee, part of getting hooked back up again. Fuck, it is good to have him back.
I feel him now beginning to probe out some familiar spaces. I squeeze my ass around his dick. ‘Oh, man,’ I am thinking, ‘this is good, this is so good. Sweet, fucking good.’
He tries a bit of thrusting. “Geez, you’re tight,” I hear him saying. “I can hardly move, you’re so fucking tight.”
“Isn’t that what you were hoping?” I come back.
“Well, yes, but this tight?” he parries.
He curls his pelvis into me, and thrusts. I squeeze. He pulls back, curls his pelvis and thrusts again. I push down on him, and squeeze him. We are setting up a rhythm. He thrusts and I push and squeeze. Thrush, push and squeeze. Rocking. Thrush, push and squeeze.
The next thrust, I roll my pelvis around it, push and squeeze.
“You’re good,” he says.
“You like that?” I reply.
“You know I do,” he says. Then he smothers my mouth with his.
He thrusts, I squeeze, and I feel the probe of his tongue in my mouth.
I meet his probe, my tongue dueling with his.
Now his hands come up to hold my head to his. His mouth to mine. His tongue in my mouth, playing with my tongue.
His chest to mine, my arms around him, pulling him close. His beautiful, muscular body that I admire so much. His bodybuilder physique. Long, lean. Lithe. Supple. Magnificently sculpted, meticulously maintained. The perfect embodiment of an equally magnificent soul.
And equally, that’s the kind of fucking we enjoy. Muscular. Sensuous. Sinuous. Soulful. Once, away, I could watch in the bedroom mirror the flexing and tensing of his muscles as he humped himself into me. The muscles up and down his back, undulating, arms, glutes, tensing, flexing, relaxing. Rhythmic. Beautiful. Truly sexually, sensuously beautiful.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, his lips still on mine. Then breaking. “Mmmm,” he murmurs, ‘Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”
Hard, firm against me. Locked together as we are, I would merge his body with mine if somehow I could. As it is, we breathe as one, and I feel the beat of his heart and take it as mine.
I feel him tense his belly, curling his pelvis into mine. And again. And again. Humping me, his dick inside me, probing, pulling back, probing again. Pulling back only so much not to begin pulling back through the sphincter. Probing again. I push down on him, squeezing him.
“Mmmm, yes!” he exclaims. I squeeze him harder.
“Fuck! Oh, yes!” he says again.
I work one hand down to where he is in me, fingering around his dick in my asshole. Then to his balls. I cup them in my hand, in their leathery sack, all hairy, and roll them around, getting a feel of them, and thinking of the mouthful I am going to make of them. Not now. But later on. I give them a squeeze. He sucks in a breath, and just as I knew he would, he jerkthrusts, driving his dick even higher into me, and I hear him groan a quick, sharp groan. Then a chuckle.
He unwinds his arms from around me, and – I know what he is gonna do – I feel his strong hands either side of my ribcage, and slowly moving down to below the bottom rib, and – he’s gonna do it – he pushes his thumbs in. And involuntarily I jerk and twitch. My ticklish spot. And jerking and twitching I am driving myself down on his dick, so that it probes even higher in my gut, beyond where I figure he can extend himself. Fuck, he’s got me, pushing in his thumbs, I am jerking up and down on his dick, his dick fully extended way up where it feels so good. “Agh – agh – agh – agh,” I hear myself. He chuckles. “Squeeze ’em again,” he says.
I do. Hard. “Bugger you,” he says, driving his dick way up into me again.
“Bugger me is right,” I say, “That tape’s not right. That’s way more than ten inches.”
“Can’t take it?” he says.
“Did I say that?” I reply, “Shit, whatever you’ve got, I can take. Whatever you’ve got, …” I hear him chuckle.
My hands are on his back. Exploring. Feeling the articulation in his muscles. His strength. Tensing. Relaxing. Loving it.
Loving him fucking me. Loving the feel of it. Loving the satisfaction of it. Loving the long, languorous strokes, in and back. Not probing, more like massaging. His dick working the muscles of my interior, and those muscles working his dick, stroking him the length of it.
His hands feel out my pecs. My obliques. My abs. Massaging them. Digging deep into them. Me, likewise, feeling out his pecs, his obliques, his abs, massaging them. Glutes. Quads. What I can feel of them. Digging deep into them. Muscle. All muscle. All six foot four of him. Classic. A Greek god. Hermes. Fuck, I love his body.
All the while, a steady rhythm, forward and back, forward and back, forward and back, him fucking me, me fucking him.
He Is purring. A deep throaty purring. To the rhythm of our fucking. And I am smiling. Because I know he is getting off on me. Just as I am getting off on him.
Purring. Contented. Luxuriating. Fucking. Fucking me. And me fucking him, squeezing his dick, him stroking it off in me.
He’s thumbing my nips. Massaging them. Oh, fuck. That’s it. This gets to me. Gets to me every time. Getting to me. Really getting to me. ‘Nips to dick, boner alert.’ As if I wasn’t already really hard. ‘Fire down below.’ Hot. My groin. Getting hotter. Quick, short breathes, shallow. Short in, hold it, blow it out. My pelvis rocking, my anus pulsing, squeezing his dick. Then relaxing. Squeezing again, then relaxing.
He’s sucking on my left one. Thumbing my right. ‘Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.’ His mouth sloppy wet, my nipple hard. Him sucking it. Tonguing it. Working it.
‘Oh, fuck.’ ‘Oh, fuck,’ I’m saying. ‘So good.’ ‘So good.’
My toes curling. Clenching, then relaxing. My ass clenching, then relaxing. Working him.
Twitching. Jerking. Nerve endings firing, my muscles now functioning under their own direction.
‘Breathe slowly,’ I tell myself. Inhale. Exhale.
Now my right. Again, his mouth sloppy wet, my nipple hard, him sucking it. I’m twitching. Jerking. Him tonguing it. Working it. My toes curling, tight. My ass clenching, squeezing him, working his dick.
Inhale. Exhale. ‘Oh, fuck. ‘Oh, fuck.’ ‘So good.’ ‘So good.’
He bares his teeth, nipping it. ‘Unnh,’ I rear back, riding him down. “Easy,” I say, my mouth to his ear.
He snorts. A muffled ‘sorry.’ He moves to mouth my left nipple again. Again, sloppy wet, nipple hard, him sucking on it. I’m twitching. Jerking. He’s tonguing it. Working it.
“Ohh, faawk,” I exclaim.
“You like?” he lifts his head.
“You fucking know I do,” I reply. “And sure as shit, I know you do!”
He sniggers. “Tits and ass. Your tits and your ass!” he replies.
Now he is thumbing it again, circling it round and round. His cheek is pressing on my cheek.
“Baby,” he is saying, “Baby. Oh, baby. Baby, baby, baby .. ”
“Baby!” I snort. I hate that. It fucking grates. And he knows it. “Fuck,” I say, and, without realizing, give him a quick, sharp thrust of my pelvis.
“Ooh,” he says, not expecting it.
“Yikes,” I respond, feeling his dick drive sharply way up there somewhere under my solar plexis.
He responds by shoving his dick up again, sharply. And I respond with another sharp thrust. Then thrust for thrust he is driving high up in me, and I am responding with sharp thrusts of my pelvis.
“Baby.” It’s echoing in my mind. It’s not like he was intending to piss me off. ‘Okay,’ I am thinking, ‘I can go with it. At least it is not ‘darling, darling, darling.’ That would outright piss me off, guys saying that to another guy. Cloying. But ‘baby,’ I can kind of like that. Yeah, I kind of like that. But only when we are together like this.
Suddenly he is holding my head, and jackrabbitting me, short hard thrusts. I grab him in my arms, round his back, hanging on as he drives himself harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper into me.
“Baby .., baby .., baby .., ” he’s saying. Now more emphatically. He’s starting the climb to the top and he’s taking me with him. Deeper thrusts, his pelvis curling harder into mine, mine meeting his, and inside me, his dick thrusting harder in wherever it is. Thrust and squeeze. Thrust and squeeze. Hard.
Quick short breaths. Jerking. In and out. Holding them. The air becoming rarefied.
Harder. And harder again. And harder still. Intense, beginning now to rock and roll, him pulling back and thrusting. Back. Just inside the point of pulling out. Then, rougher now, ramming it in..
“Ungh.” “Ungh.” “Ungh.” Me, him.
Now rougher still. Rocking and rolling. We’re really into it. “Nnungh.” “Nnungh.” “Nnungh.” Sharper, even more intense.
“Too much?” he asks.
“No.” “No.” “No,” I reply.
“You don’t want me to back off?” he asks.
“No.” “No.” “No,” I assure him. Forcefully.
“So, no complaints,” he says.
“Not from me,” I reply. “No complaints whatsoever!” Fuck no. Just the opposite.
He pulls back. Way back. Then thrusts. And, ping, he hits it. The magic button. The electrical charge shooting through the whole of me, my toes to the crown of my head. Touch that, and keep touching it, and I go into orbit. And he knows it. And he’s going to keep pinging it. And I am going to soar.
Ping. Colours. A kaleidoscope of sensations.
“Oh!,” “Oh!,” “Oh!,” “Yes!”
Ping.
Fireworks exploding. Chrysanthemums, brilliant, cascading.
Ping.
Shudder. Again. ‘Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck’ I am saying to myself. Over and over.
Pounding me, and I am giving him as good as I am getting, driving him, fucking him as much as he is fucking me.
Ping. Stars. A comet shower. Otherworldly. A whole new plane. Fucking in a whole new dimension. Like he is me and I am him. We’re one and the same. He is fucking me, and I am fucking him. We are fucking each other. We are fucking us.
Ping.
“Give it to me.” “Give it to me,” I am pleading to him, begging him.
“Yes!” “Yes!” Him. Me.
Ping.
“Yeeogh!” Hardcore. Haunches hard-driving. Every muscle pumping, lighting up, mine lighting up his, his lighting up mine. Every sinew, every fibre of my being, every fibre of his, coming alive. Every synapse firing. Physically joined, his dick up my ass, my ass taking his dick. Mentally, in full flow, my thoughts are his thoughts, his mine. Wordless exchange. One mind, one being, The beast with two backs.
Ping.
“Give it to me,” I chant, “Give it to me.” “Give it to me.”
His voice, husky, “Yes!” “Yes!” “Take it.” “Take it.”
Suddenly, “Rrrraaaaaaaaghhh,” from my mouth a sound like I have never before heard. In my guts, one sharp, hard probe, deeper, harder than he has ever probed before.
“You okay?” he asks, ramming in another, as deep and as hard.
Fuck. It’s like I am being strangled. But, “Yes,” I say, and he slams into me again. “Fuuuuck,” I hear myself.
“I’m not hurting you?” he is wanting to know. And he’s into me, hard, deep, again.
“Yes. No,” I tell him. “Yes, hurting.” “But I can take it.” “I can take it.”
Slam. “Don’t stop.” “Don’t stop.” I am saying. Over and over again, “Don’t stop.”
Rutting. Hard core rutting. Slam dunk rutting. Given to the moment, out of control. Him slamming into me, me into him. No thought of holding it back.
Ping.
“Oh, fuck.” “Oh, fuck.” “Oh, fuck.” “Don’t stop.” “Don’t stop.” “Don’t stop.”
Ping.
“Yes!” “Yes!”
Ping again, – “Yes!” – the Sally and Harry moment, “Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes!” and I’m shooting hot liquid out between us, and he is thrusting way up inside me, – “Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes!” I hear him, – thrusting higher still, I feel him, nutting, all warm and wonderful. From between his legs, shooting, into me, between my legs. Once, Twice. Three times. Ejaculating. From his loins. His essential being. Shooting it into my loins, into the innermost folds of my being. “Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes!” he is saying. And together, the two of us, “Yes!” “Yes!” “Yes!”
Over the top. Over the top. Over the top. All warm and wonderful. The miracle.
My arms holding him tight. His holding me tight. My legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. Ecstasy.
The agony and the ecstasy. The striving. The achievement. The accomplishment. Fulfillment. ‘Fuck,’ I am saying to myself, ‘Oh, fuck.’
Then aloud, full voice, “Oh, fuck.” “Oh, fuck.” “Oh, fuck.” ” Oh fuck – oh fuck – oh fuck.”
He arches his back, head high, and, primal, brutish, from his throat, the roar of the king of the beasts, proclaiming his triumph, claiming his mate. His muscled arms pull me in to him, holding me tight. I am his.
I like that I am his. He has claimed me again.
I shudder. A sudden wave, beginning between my shoulders, rolling down my back past my pelvis, into my legs, my ass closing tight on his dick.
“Y’okay?” he is asking.
“Yes,” I reply, my ass pulsing on his dick, squeezing him. “Yes, just a shiver that’s all.”
His arms clasp me tighter, holding me to him.
I feel his cheek at my cheek. He is nuzzling my ear. Bunting me. I twist to get my lips onto his, to hold them there, to kiss him, deeply. And deep inside, way up inside, I feel him continuing to thrust into me, his dick throbbing, expended, but still throbbing.
He keeps it there. I feel him, big, and warm, filling me. What of himself he has shot into me, likewise warm, spreading, being absorbed into me.
I hold his head in my hands, rubbing his forehead to mine, rolling mine side to side against his.
“Fuck, I am glad you are home,” I murmur in his ear.
“Me, too,” I hear him. “Me too!”
We are locked in the afterglow. His arms around me, my arms around him. My legs around him, belly to belly, chest to chest. Mouth to mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, emphatically.
“Fuck is right,” he says. Then, “One for the record books?”
“One for the record books!” I reply.
He pulls me in tighter, and nuzzles my ear.
“Fuck, I am glad you are home,” I say to him again.
“Missed me, have you?” he smirks.
“You fucking well know it,” I say.
“Fuck,” he says, “I miss this when I am gone. Fuck, I miss you. It’s like I fucking ache, wanting you. Fucking you, you fucking me. But just wanting to be with you. For you to be with me.”
“Don’t think I don’t” I tell him. “Like, in my gut, I am aching for you.”
I am thinking how it is, how it is going to be till he goes again. Having him home. What we do when he is here. Going nowhere, just enjoying each others’ company. Hitting the sack when we want to. Drifting off, arms, legs interlocked. Waking up late, snuggling, putting off breakfasts. Morning wood. His. Mine. Getting it off. Showers. Mid-mornings, after nine, rocking it out. And nooners, and the feel of him, and liking the feel of him, way up, filling me, emptying himself in me, warm and spreading, and me absorbing him. And ditto, to be way upside in him, emptying myself in him, him absorbing me.
BJs, handjobs, mutuals, sixty-nines. Lifting, naked. Wrestling, naked. Swimming, diving, naked. In the kitchen, naked. Hanging out, chilling out. Footsies. Giggling. Sometimes reaching out, touching, just to be reassured, reassuring. The two of us, one. Fuck, I sure miss him when he is gone.
“Well,” he says, “Maybe soon you’ll get to come.”
“Could be,” I say, not committing. Much as I might like to. He knows why.
“But then, ” – I can hear the smirk in his voice – “We wouldn’t get to start over.”
“You like that, don’t you,” I say.
“It’s the best part, coming back to your tight ass,” he comes back.
“And yours,” I reply, adding, “And your dick. Fuck. Your dick.”
“And yours .. and yours,” he says.
‘Too good,’ I am thinking, ‘too good.’
I feel him begin to soften. Just begin. I savour the feeling of him still inside me, the fullness of him still inside me. The warm, fulfilling satisfaction of just having been fucked by him. Of the two of us fucking. Luxuriating in it. He turns his head so, now, his other cheek is resting on mine, his mouth at my ear, his tongue again flicking, tracing the shell of my ear.
It takes him a long time to come down. It always does. But soon he’s gonna wanna pull out. He’s gonna pull back, and pull out. And that’s gonna hurt. I know from before. Almost the same as the very first time. Just as much as it hurts to get him into me, it hurts for him to be pulling out of me.
“But you are glad that I am home,” he says. I can hear it in his voice, what is coming next. “How glad?”
“Glad enough I am gonna do to you what you have just been doing to me,” I tell him. “And then some!”
‘Ya think so?” he says, teasing.
“You better believe it,” I shoot back.
“Starting all over again?” he asks.
“Starting all over again,” I reply, emphatically.
“Your dick in my ass,” he says.
“My dick in your ass,” I confirm.
“Waited long enough,” he says. “Good to be home, best friend, good to be home.”
He’s moving his legs into position to get his ass in the air, and the long slide begins, leaving me empty where he has been. The bulge in his dick is beginning to pull back through the inner ring, stretching it, and stretching it some more. The hurt, long and slow, mounting. I try to ignore it, or at least manage it. It is sliding out, stretching my ass channel, hurting.
‘Fuck.’ ‘Fuck.’ ‘Fuck.’ ‘Fuck,’ I am chanting to myself, not wanting to cry out, until I feel that bulge itself moving through the ring and the channel, and, not able to hold it back, just on the threshold of really hurting, like he’s gonna tear out my guts, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuawawww ….