Page 58 of Not Strictly Ballroom

“It’s a needy little hole, isn’t it?” I tease his rim a bit more before breaching it with one finger, feeling it grip me as he almost sighs in relief. I start sliding my finger in and out.

“It needs more,” he responds again.

“Does it? It’s a greedy hole as well.” I add a second finger, working them in and out, scissoring them to prep him slowly.

“Yes, it’s a needy, greedy hole.” His breaths come in short pants, and I work my fingers a little faster, in time to the thrusts he’s pushing back on me. My cock is rock hard and aching at the sight of him thrusting back on my fingers. Precum stringing between the end and my stomach as it twitches every time he opens his mouth.

“What does it need?” I add a third finger, watching his abs contract with the feel of it.

“It needs dick, babe. It needs your dick.” The last word said between clenched teeth as I hit his sweet spot.

“Can it take my dick?” I fucking hope so, as if I don’t get in there soon, I’m going to come just watching him. It’s as if something in him, some internal restraint, finally snaps and loosens his tongue.

“It can take your dick. I need it. My needy, greedy hole wants your dick. I want you to fill me, fill me so full. I want to still feel you next week. Please, babe, fuck me. Pleeease.”

Seeing him spread, ready and begging for me, is almost more than I can take. I withdraw my fingers, enjoying one last glimpse of his hole opening and closing, grasping for something.

I flip the lube cap once more and smear some along my length and line up with his hole.

“You ready?” I ask as I nudge at his entrance.

“Pleeeease.” He jerks his hips for emphasis. I push in slowly, checking that he’s okay and I’m not hurting him, but his breathy whispers of “more, more, more” are my undoing. I thrust in deep.

“Ungh,” he groans, and for a second I think I’ve hurt him, but then I see the smile on his face and the pretty flush of his cheeks.

I start moving rhythmically, unable to stop my hips. My need to speak takes over.

“Fuck, honey. I knew you’d feel good. You’re the perfect fit. Your ass is just right. It’s like your pretty little hole was made just for me. You were made for me.”

I know I’m not going to last much longer, it’s too exquisite and I’ve been waiting too long.

He arches off the bed, changing the angle slightly. “Oh, fuck babe, I’m going to come.” His voice coming in short breaths, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes, do it, honey.” I can’t stop relentlessly pounding, the slap of my balls against him sending tingles down my spine. I’m close to the edge, holding on for as long as I can.

“Oh fuck! Nick!” He shouts as his body jerks once more and his release spurts across his chest, his hole tightening around me even more, gripping me as his orgasm shudders through him. That’s all it takes to tip me over the precipice I’d been clinging to, and my own orgasm rips through me with an intensity that leaves me speechless.

It takes a few minutes for me to regain enough awareness to slide my deflating cock out of him.

I know we need to clean up, but for now I just want to crawl up the bed to lie by his side. His eyes are closed and he isn’t moving and I think that something is wrong.

“D, honey?” I say softly, trying not to show the concern that starts bubbling up in me, thinking that I’d hurt him or that he thinks what we did was wrong.

“I was just checking I was still alive.” He blinks his eyes open and turns his head towards me, his smile easing the constriction that has been tightening around my chest. “I wouldn’t have believed I could take that much pleasure, happiness, and love all in one go.”

He turns onto his side to face me. “Unless I have died and you’re, like, some fucking glorious angel.” He reaches out his hand and traces his fingers down my face, so tenderly that my heart swells and threatens to burst through the confines of my ribs.

“Kiss me angel,” he whispers, and I do.

“The event on Saturday is still going ahead.” I try to reassure the seniors in their Monday afternoon class. They haven’t taken the news that the school is closing very well, and have been grumbling about it for the last few minutes until someone asks about the forties event.

“We’re still having everything as we’ve already planned.”

They return their complaints back to the lessons.

“What are we going to do?” and, “You can still teach us, though, can’t you?” being the main ones. I’ve given some thought to the suggestions from the other classes, that I rent a hall somewhere so I can still teach them. I haven’t done anything about it, though. I’m not sure I want to either. I’m not sure what I want right now. I feel rudderless, just drifting aimlessly downstream, unable to weigh anchor just yet. I suppose I must or I could get swept out into the ocean and swallowed up by the waves. That was how it felt straight after the competition, that I’d been tossed off the edge of a cliff into the stormy sea. The waters are calmer, but I still have no direction.

I ought to talk to Nick about it. The thought of Nick brings warmth and excitement to my core. He’s gone back to work with his dad and Alan today after taking the week off for me. There’s a large project they’re working on, some sort of sports pavilion. He says he needs to work so he can buy a house. I’ve suggested renting, but he’s set against it, saying that renting is so expensive he won’t be able to afford to save up any more money. I understand that, but I can see his stubbornness in there, too. I’m all for getting a place of our own after the night away at the weekend. It was incredible, and I swear I can still feel the effects of being so gloriously filled by him even today. Maybe I should be looking for work, any work, rather than worrying about what I want to do right now. That way I can contribute and we can move out even faster.

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