"Wow! That was hot."
That was Neal, who has been my boyfriend for a while now. We met at a neighborhood cafe and bonded over fashion, photography, and pop culture. He's a great conversationalist, but he's sexy as fuck, at least for me. We had just finished another romp in bed in the early morning hours when he breathlessly said that.
Neal has semi-wavy brown hair, sports intelligent-looking glasses, and is skinny but not a waif. In his mid-20's, he comes across as looking a little younger than he is. Were he just another twink, I wouldn't have thought twice about him. But I would find out his Scorpio rising placement would draw me to him...that and that he loves wearing croptops. His cuddly Cancer sun makes me want to hug him all night long.
Both Neal and I have a massive navel fetish. He loves showing his off. Having a round outie the size of a nickel, with the lightest wisp of his fine, brown body hair underneath it, he's defiant about fronting it when innies are the popular navel type in general.
The sensitivity of his water sign placements extends to his bellybutton. One reason he loves croptops is that a breeze on his stomach makes him horny. He's been close to coming from a stiff wind, and is just as aroused when someone is eyeing his navel, whether with side-eye as in scandal, or in affection, as I do constantly.
In bed, his outie is the center of our sex play. He wears croptops to bed - those are his de facto sleepwear. I love it, because I can cradle him and his midsection from behind, feeling my forearms grazing his bared skin. If I finger his bellybutton, I can make him come - and have on many, many occasions, to our mutual delight.
But he's not the only one who gets all the treats. He'll service me by having me lay on my back, with him between my legs, his stomach close enough for him to take my penis and rub it back and forth across his bellybutton, a lovely, soft nub of flesh that absolutely invites play. Combined with his putting my cock in a set of rings to hold it in place against his stomach, and his soft, warm hands working my penis in a sort of play torture, I'm no match for him. I regularly lose control of my cum muscles in my nut sac, resulting in a massive glob of syrupy fluid coating his bellybutton. And after I come, feeling my warm fluid on his outie, he comes hard, without having to use his hands to stroke his shaft. It's all a pretty amazing thing, us two as a couple.
He had just masturbated me again, and I was just thoroughly in the throes of lust and love of him.
"I love your bellybutton," I whispered. My saying that to him makes me horny; it feels vulnerable for me to nakedly declare my affection in such a way.
"I never get tired of hearing you say that," he whispered back.
I was still on my back, and his trunk was still between my legs, thick semen running down his front, in and out of his bellybutton. We just lay there for several minutes, in silence, me loving the afterburn I was feeling from my ejaculation.
"I think you have another in you," Neal ventured with a touch of naughtiness.
I sighed with a touch of exhaustion. "Dude! That was one of the hottest squirts I've ever had. I think the pen is dry."
"I think I can get you there."
"You wanna bet?" I said with a touch of playfulness.
"Yeah...I wanna bet," Neal said softly. "I'll make you come...again. If you come, I win. If you don't come, you win."
"Uh-huh. And what's the 'prize'?" I said coyly.
"The loser has to do a punishment," Neal said. "Nothing dangerous, just...a punishment."
I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but I was intrigued. I was also kinda worn out. I didn't think he'd win. I thought for a moment.
