Randy begins to introduce Matt to the joys of backdoor play. Later, he visits the local grocery.
Thanks to LarryInSeattle.
Comments welcome. I hope you enjoy.
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Matt starts to lie on his back.
"Roll over," I tell him, my voice husky with desire. "On your knees." He looks worried. "Trust me, Matt. Rest your head and chest on the pillow. If there's something you don't like, tell me. Okay?"
"Sure," he whispers.
He does as I ask but the look of uncertainly lingers. That, I realize, is a good thing. His uncertainty will help me keep a tight rein on my desires. Desires, that began to surge as my fingers played over his ass in the bathroom and, now with him on his knees, heavy balls visible between his legs, threaten to overwhelm me. The desire to squirt lube on my cock and just fuck him is so strong that I'm trembling. He trusts me. That simple, but huge, fact gives me the strength to keep my lust in check, to channel it for both our pleasures.
I kneel on the bed behind him. I rub both hands over his back, loving the firm muscle I fine there. I lean far enough to massage his shoulders. I'm careful to keep my cock low, pressed against his balls, not his ass. I knead his shoulders, wishing I had massage oil rather than a bottle of lube in the bedside table. I work my hands down the large muscles along his spine.
When I reach his ass, I sit back on my heels. I force myself to go slow. I don't want to re-kindle his apprehensions. I rub his ass cheeks. They're as firm as the rest of his body, and just as smooth, covered by very fine downy fuzz. I'd love to see his ass in the sun. That fine fuzz would capture the light and glow like fire.
I increase the pressure, massaging more than rubbing at this point. I gradually begin to spread his ass cheeks. My hands move in wide circles. Open, close, open. I offer myself only brief glimpses of my goal. I've done this to him before. I reminded him of it earlier. We'll go a little further this morning, if he's willing. That's all. No big deal.
I kiss his right ass cheek and lick with my tongue. I squeeze his ass as I move to the left. I kiss and lick longer here. I make my way toward his crack. I lick along the side, careful to avoid his pucker. I lick down the other side and kiss my way over his cheek.
I focus on his crack. I lick and nip above his crack, working my way all the way up to the little hollow spot at the base of his spine.
I scoot back on the bed and lower my body. I tilt my head so I can work on the area between his asshole and balls without touching his asshole with my nose. I'm doing my best to tease him, to make him want to feel my mouth, my tongue on his asshole.
He's moving under my hands now, moving his hips in small circles. As I lick up from his balls, he pushes his ass back toward me. Good but not good enough. I avoid the center of my desire and kiss along the side of his crack. Matt's soft groan of frustration makes my cock twitch.
I lean back and blow a puff of air at his asshole. It twitches, a most enticing invitation, but I resist. I start to worry I may be moving from gentle teasing to active dickery so I go back to kissing and licking everything but his asshole. I stop at random and blow, making it dance. I nearly give up, deciding he either doesn't understand what I'm waiting for, understands but refuses, or really doesn't want to go any further. If it's the latter, I have to trust him to say so.
I tighten my grip on his ass, preparing to plunge ahead when he speaks.
"Randy, dude, you're killin' me here. Do that thing you did with your tongue the other night," he whispers.
My heart swells in my chest. I rest my head on his right ass cheek.
"I thought you'd never ask, baby," I reply.
I turn my head and nip at his ass. He moans. I nip my way toward his crack, stopping to kiss and suck, wondering (and not caring) if I was leaving a trail of hickies, making my progress toward this morning's Nirvana.
I nip right beside the hard ring of his sphincter. His asshole doesn't twitch so much as it spasms. He moans again.
I kiss his asshole. Dead center. No tongue. If I was kissing his lips it would be almost chaste. But I'm not kissing his lips. I'm kissing his asshole, pucker, bunghole, brown eye, and that, dear friends, is never, ever, chaste.
I kiss and lick, much as I had our first night together. Today, I want more. I promised him more. I remind myself I also promised him I'd stop the second he asked me to.
I spread him a little wider and really push my mouth against him, wedging my cheeks between his own. I drag the flat of my tongue over the roughness beneath it. I draw it back, stiffen it, and push it forward. He smells of soap, tastes faintly of soap and nothing else. I work my tongue in circles, caressing him in the most intimate fashion I can imagine.
I feel him relax, both in my hands and against my tongue. I increase the pressure. The texture changes. The taste of soap is replaced by a faint bitterness, nothing more. He clenches and banishes my questing tongue. I circle, press, penetrate, over and over, until he no longer tightens up as my tongue penetrates him.
He begins to thrust against my face. That strikes me as a positive development. I pull my face out of his ass crack. I spread his cheeks as wide as I dare without fear of hurting him and spit on his asshole. It's a perfect shot, dumb luck not skill.
Before he can react, perhaps before he even realizes I just spit on him, I press my finger against his pucker. I mimic the earlier actions of my tongue, circling, caressing, slowly increasing the pressure. When I think he's ready, I wet my finger.
"It's important to relax, Matt," I whisper as I nuzzle his cheeks and crack. "It's just my finger, a single finger. There will be no pain, I promise, as long as you don't tense up. Just breath. Okay?"
"Uh-huh," he sighs. "Du..,Randy, what you're doing is awesome. It's cool."
"Right on," I whisper, wondering how the phrase jumped from my parent's generation to Matt's without touching my own. If he finds my use of the phrase amusing or problematic, he doesn't react.
I rest my face on his ass cheek, kissing and nipping in an awkward sidling fashion, as I insert my finger into his ass.
He doesn't tense up. He arches his back and pushes. My finger enters him smoothly. I do nothing more, allowing him to grow accustomed to the sensation. Then I begin to move my finger, slowly. Spit isn't the best lube; I don't want to hurt him. I swept my finger in a circle, opening him, or so I hope, to more exploration in the future. The future, not today. Today is not to open his ass but his mind, open it to a new realm of pleasure.
I pull my finger out of his ass. I do my best to keep it out of his sight. He'd felt clean enough but I don't want to risk killing the mood. I kiss the back of his neck.
"Sit up a second," I whisper.
My mouth waters when he does. His cock is tense. Every heartbeat forces a bit more precum from his slit. A strand dangles for the head of his cock to the mattress. I use one hand to fold a pillow in half and push it against the head of the bed. I lie down on my back, head propped up on the pillow.
"Straddle my chest. Feed me your cock, Matt."
He throws one leg over my chest. His balls drag through my chest hair. It becomes clear he's out to avenge my earlier teasing. He squeezes his cock and wipes the precum from the head. He licks his fingers, smiling at me, while swiveling his hips so that his heavy balls tickle my chest. I raise my head; he moves his hips back, his smile widening.
"Raise up," I request. He does. Keeping my fingers curled out of sight, I work my hand between his legs.
"Bud, can you reach the table? There's lube in the drawer."
He stretches and I enjoy watching his cock sway. He pulls the drawer open and rummages around for a moment, making more noise than I care for. I have no idea if Liam is still asleep or if he is even in the house, but I behaved as if he is.
"Squirt some in my hand." I hold out my left hand. The right is still between his legs. He does as I ask. I work my left hand between his legs.
I rub the lube into his ass crack and over his asshole. I urge him forward as I do. He doesn't resist or tease. His cock stands tall, proud and angry above my lips. I remove my left hand from between his legs and pull his cock down. He leans forward, one hand on the wall, the other helping to guide his cock to my mouth. The fingers of my right hand spread the lube over his asshole.
As his cock head slides past my lips, I push my lubed finger back into his ass. I don't finger fuck him like before. I press down on the rubbery hump of his prostate; he moans. I taste, more than feel, the dollop of nectar my finger has brought forth.
He feels relaxed around my finger. I fuck him with my finger, pushing deep until my knuckles press into the flesh around his asshole. With every stroke, my finger tip massages his prostate, the male G-spot.
