Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Oh, fuck. Oh…”
“You like that?” I growled.
“Y-yes.”
I feasted on his ass, fondling his balls while he jerked himself. I slipped a single digit inside and took a moment to give my poor cock a little attention. I was hard enough to pound nails, and the sight of my finger moving in and out of his gorgeous ass was almost too much to take. I rescued the lube and squirted a generous amount over his hole, adding a second digit and a third. I was going for “strung out and begging,” but I was already torturing myself. I couldn’t wait.
“I need to fuck you.” I rubbed my scruffy end-of-day beard on his ass cheek and bit it playfully as I climbed behind him.
“Yes, yes, yes…”
I fumbled with a condom, slathered more lube than necessary on both of us, then slowly pushed my cock into his tight hole.
I’d have loved to report that it was poetry in motion—but the truth was, I fucked him like a man possessed, pumping my hips to a primitive rhythm I had no hope of maintaining for long. This was what happened when you pretended to have a grasp on self-control and ended up losing every last shred of it at the first guttural moan from the man chanting your name along with a whole lot of nasty commands.
“Harder, faster, more. Give it to me. I want it, I need it. Oh, fuck yeah…”
There was only so much I could take. I wiped sweat from my brow and pressed him face first into the mattress, thrusting over and over as I nuzzled his neck and licked his ear.
“You feel so good. I’m gonna come, but you gotta go first. Come on, baby…come on.”
Bryson let out a strangled cry and fell apart with a dramatic all-body tremor that pulled me under. I bucked and roared, pumping every ounce I had in me into the condom.
I fell on top of him and closed my eyes, feeling more content—physically and emotionally—than I had in years. The bone-deep satisfaction was overwhelming, yet I didn’t question it. In a way, I figured we deserved this.
Like it or not, we were more than strangers who’d become neighbors and casual lovers. We were friends who trusted each other enough to share some ugly truths. It didn’t mean this was heading anywhere special, but I sensed a depth here that felt like a lifeline. I couldn’t speak for Bryson, but damn, I needed this.
So maybe for now…I needed him.
We didn’t paint that night. Or the next.
To be fair, I no longer gave a fuck about the butt-ugly yellow walls in my living room. I was too busy sucking Bryson’s cock or screwing his brains out to give them a second thought. We were on a two-week sex bender, and the cool thing was that there were no awkward “Should we be doing this?” recriminations. We gave ourselves permission to get naked every damn night.
And why not? We were neighbors on a quiet street with oodles of trees. No one was going to notice how much time Bryson spent at my place. But if they did, we had excuses at the ready. Just watching the game. Just helping with a little DIY. Just having a beer. You know…neighbor stuff.
It wasn’t as if we were lying. We watched a lot of hockey, replaced some blinds, hung a few pics, and drank beer…and wine. We also had more sex than I’d personally had in over ten years. No joke.
It was amazing.
Every night was a sexfest.
We’d lunge for each other the second the door shut, tearing at the layers in between us as we sucked and licked, stumbling upstairs to my room. And on the nights when the trip seemed too far, we’d fall onto the borrowed sofa in the living area, grinding, humping, sucking, and occasionally…fucking.
Like last night. Bryson had straddled my thighs and ridden my cock while we “caught up” on sports highlights. He’d planted his feet on the cushions, bouncing like a rodeo hero on a bucking bull while I’d jacked him. Sweat had glistened on his chest as he’d bitten his lip and tilted his chin at the ceiling, staving off his orgasm for as long as possible. And I had to say, I loved watching Bryson fall apart.
I had a feeling that the only time he completely let go of the tight reins he held on his self-control was during sex. Maybe he did that in his sleep too, but we didn’t sleep together so I couldn’t vouch for that.
We had unspoken lines that weren’t to be crossed, and spending the night was one of them. I wouldn’t have minded waking up with Bryson in my bed, but that was a step too far for now. I wasn’t in a position to push for intimacy I wasn’t sure I wanted anyway. I had enough on my plate trying to coach a ragtag team of quirky-ass teenagers.