Page 95 of The Boy from Half Moon

“Harder,” he whispered, one hand on one of my nipples, the other stroking his penis.

I moved his hand away from my chest and dug my shoulders into the back of his knees, pressing them toward his ears, lunging over the top of him, and putting all my weight on him as I pumped my hips into him.

“Ooohhhh,” he gasped, wrapping his arms around my back and locking his hands.

“You like that?” I growled, getting into his feverish reactions to my thrusts. “You want it all?” His eyes widened at my offer, and he gazed at me, perhaps in shock. “That’s right, my love. I’ve been holding back to make sure you were doing okay.”

“You’re naughty, Luke,” he said, sliding his hands up my back, past my shoulders, and to my neck, pulling me down on him as he wrapped his legs around my waist.

Our bodies felt like one as we joined together in a frenzy of passion, him bucking under me while I pressed him into the mattress.

In one quick motion, I slammed the rest of my penis into him, pushing it as deep as I could go and holding it there.

“Oh, fuuucccckkkk,” he cursed.

“You like that?” I asked, figuring he did, considering the way he’d said a bad word. I didn’t wait for a reply as I brought my mouth to his and jammed my tongue inside, darting and struggling to catch my breath as I fought the urge to explode from the inside out.

I pumped harder while he kept his legs tightly around me, meeting every thrust with one of his own. Our mouths fought the same battle our bodies were fighting. Our teeth clashed as we couldn’t get deep enough, far enough, into each other enough, our breathing sounding like panting as we made love.

I pulled back, and we locked eyes. Something alerted me that we were both on a thrill ride about to come to a close, and I needed him to know my experience involved love as well.

“I love you,” I said, keeping my pace up, staring into his eyes, searching for his soul, and giving him everything I had. “Making love with you is amazing, Tate.”

He pulled my head next to his, his mouth at my ear as he gasped with his pleasure. “Give me your cum, love. Fill me with your seed. I love you so much,” he exclaimed.

I pumped into him. Deeper and faster while he moaned in pleasure. We were joined by flesh, me inside the man I loved. I was free to do what I needed to achieve my satisfaction, so I feverishly slid in and out of his hole, holding my penis deeper each time before pulling out again, repeating my action over and over.

Being inside him felt amazing and the only thing that gave me the ability to orgasm with no regret was knowing I’d get to do this as often as I wanted. Just that realization on its own caused me to get to the final edge.

“I love you,” he said, gritting his teeth in sheer pleasure as he gave himself to me. His words and our lovemaking collided in perfect synchronicity as I convulsed, delivering my orgasm into his body, claiming him as mine.

Tate clung to me, grinding against me as his own orgasm splashed between us, both of us perspiring as we milked the very last drop of love we had.

Tate introduced me to lovemaking, uncorking a potential I’d never thought possible. He showed me that physical intimacy could be passionate and exhilarating while also being respectful and loving. I’d found where I wanted to be for the rest of my life.

We remained joined, our breathing regulated, but our desire to dis-entwine was not there yet. “That was perfect, Luke. You are such a gifted lover.”

“I’m not done,” I growled. “I want to go again.”

His eyes widened when I moved into him, reminding him that I was still very much erect, very willing, to continue our lovemaking. His deflating penis found life as quickly as I made my intention clear.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed, sliding my hands under his butt again. “This time nice and slow. I want to watch you as I make love to you again,” I stated.

“I forget sometimes you’re only nineteen,” he said, grinning and stroking his penis.

“Does that make a difference?” I asked, wondering what he meant by me being nineteen.

“Not to me, it doesn’t.”

I covered his mouth with mine and plunged my tongue in at the same time I buried my penis back into him, thrusting deeper, pulling out, and thrusting in again, watching his face. He moved his arms above his head, giving himself over to me completely.

The second time we made love was relaxed. We kissed, we embraced, we became one body, one motion. Our movements were fluid, moving jointly as I led the dance. Tate wanted a strong man to love him. I’d be that man. The one to lead. Finally.

Life was just about perfect.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: Tate

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