Final Chapter
There he was, the man who was going to fuck me. He looked searchingly into my eyes, at my body clad only in black silk pajama pants. We couldn't speak. We didn't know what words would fit. He took me in his arms and kissed my lips. He took control of me and our time. He kissed me tenderly and lovingly. His hands caressed my shoulders and back, slowly, and down to the silk on my ass that became ever more sensual by the possessive caress of his hands.
"Barry, Barry, Barry. I feel like a virgin bride on her wedding night."
He laughed with a release that spread over both of us. "You are my virgin bride," he whispered on my lips. "My sweetheart. My darling. You are surrendering your virginity to your man. To know." His erection was a mighty thing of power, potential and self evident.
He walked me to the bedroom, calm and in control. I put his suit jacket on a hanger. His necktie. His pants. He could not stop looking into my eyes, and smiling. I brushed his hands aside to unbutton his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, with nervous fingers, glancing up at his calm smile and smoldering eyes. Filled with quivers and currents of a virgin bride. Ready to experience and know. I knelt and kissed his rigid cock, just to acknowledge it. His half a day of crotch smell was extra strong, gamy, like the scent a buck or a boar would smear on trees in a forest. He looked at the bedside table, well stocked, and said, "You are ready."
We lay naked on the bed, and he made love to me, his beautiful man, his darling, his virgin. Slowly. With all the time in the world progression. With his hands and fingers and his mouth. Opening doors in me. Stimulating, arousing, igniting flames. And I lay under him, acquiescent, anticipating, wanting it to happen. He loved my tits and I dove into identifying with a woman with full breasts. That was my release. To luxuriate in everything happening to me, embrace any fantasy. Gone.
"I'm extra clean for you," I said.
"My darling," he murmured.
He got off the bed and came back on with a supply of towels and the KY. He folded a pillow length wise. "Raise up," he said. I planted my feet and hoisted my pelvis. He covered the pillow with the towel and slid it under my ass near the small of my back. Practical matters. He uncapped the jelly tube and lubed his fingers. "Put your hands behind your knees and pull your legs back," he said. I obeyed. On my back, jackknifed, legs pulled back and spread wide, my virgin ass was offered up to him like a gift on a platter. And any lingering female fantasy fled from the stark reality I was a man who had willfully positioned himself to be fucked by another man.
He pushed a gooey finger in and moved it around. Then a second finger. A few sawing strokes of the two fingers. "To acquaint you," he said. "Help you relax." His kind intentions didn't work. My sphincter clamped his fingers like a vice. He didn't relent, and gradually I did relax. Some. His sawing fingers were less abrasive. I felt growing excitation there, if not genuine pleasure. The excitation was the keen edge of understanding that my position and the sensation his fingers produced was isolated anticipation, as thrilling as scary, of his big stiff cock about to penetrate me. He withdrew the fingers. He squeezed the tube and slathered a thick coat of lube on his cock.
"Uh, you're forgetting the condom," I said.
He stared into my eyes. "We'll use one if you insist. But it's the same cum I pump into my wife. I am clean and safe for her, and for you. Trust me."
It made sense, what he said. I couldn't imagine him rolling on a condom every time he fucked Betty. For eight years. Disease free made sense. I made a snap decision. "Okay. No condom."
"Skin in skin. All natural. The best for me, and you too. You will see."
That concluded practical matters. It was time for him to take my virginity. On that point all my senses fell into shifting patterns of awareness of extreme clarity and vividness. Like the shift of patterns when you twist the tube of a kaleidoscope. He was on his knees spread wide, much like a flexible child on spread knees on the floor to play a game, jacks or something. He adjusted his knees to approach. His cock looked larger and harder, shiny with lube, a specific tool for a specific job. I lifted my head and stared between my spread legs at the awesome man tool advance, at a goal and a purpose that could not be altered. The mighty head, a flaring helmet on an ancient warrior, made contact.
My head dropped back to the mattress, my eyes closed, and my mental awareness was intensely vivid. The cock head so silky and fitting in my mouth seemed to have doubled in size, and was as hard and unyielding as steel. It seemed to press against all the surface I had down there, far beyond the margins of my tiny, tight anus. Vivid clarity of awareness. It was too big. It couldn't be done. It was simply not possible. But his too big cock was more than tangible measure. It was also stark reality that his penetration was a predetermined, non-negotiable event. That the impossible was not only possible, but was going to happen, by his desire for me and implacable force of masculine imperative, and by my position of submission to him. I was past the point of no return. The hard bulging head was firmly pressed on the entrance to open it and push into me. I could not stop it. I had deliberately submitted myself, mentally, emotionally, physically, including an enema, to experience the meaning of being fucked by a man, and I had no will left to stop it.
The pain was instant, and confounding. It was like the huge hard ball of flesh had changed itself into a sharp point to puncture. The pain was stinging and sharp. I sucked in a hiss of air to ward it off.
I shot a desperate look at Barry. His eyes were riveted to mine. His face seemed detached from emotion. Calm and confident, like a doctor performing a necessary medical procedure. The pressure increased. And the pain. The pain was beyond understanding. A part of it was pain of contraction, like the blow from touching an electrified wire on a fence. But the greater part was expansion, my tight hole being opened, widened, forced to yield. And the pain was intensely sharp. I hissed like a tea kettle. "Oh God go easy!"
