Page 22 of Down My Chimney

“Absolutely okay,” I panted. It had been too long. A day without Blake was too long. An hour. A minute.

He began to move, slowly at first, then faster, sliding in and out of my ass. I hooked my leg around him again, urging him deeper, faster. It was hot and slick, every nerve in my body alight up as he filled me, stimulating every inch of my channel.

I couldn’t decide which I liked better, the way my hole stretched as his cockhead breached the outer ring, only to slide back in again, or the deep, heavy wholeness of being completely filled when he was all the way inside me. But then he changed the angle of his thrusts, deliberately stroking against my prostate, and I lost the ability to think at all. All I could do was feel.

“Yes, fuck, Blake, it’s so good,” I moaned as he stroked past that spot again and again, waves of pleasure mounting in my body. “Fuck, Blake, yes.”

His pupils were dilated as he looked down at me, and I wondered for a second what it was like to be him. To be that gorgeous, that powerful. What it felt like to fuck somebody. And not just anybody, but your childhood friend. To fuck me.

Did he feel the same way I did? Full of disbelief and wonder and an endless desire, slightly tinged with panic that he would wake up and this would all be a dream. Did he feel the need to soak up as much of this as possible, convinced it was too good to be true?

For a moment, I saw myself in his position, imagined what he saw when he looked down at me. Skinny body, dishwater blond hair, moody gray-blue eyes, freckles that cantered across my cheeks with no regard for how immature they made me look.

What did he see in me? Why would he want that? Wantme?

“Hey,” Blake said, somehow reading my mind. He was braced on his elbows, and he slid one hand up to touch my cheek. “I’m never going to stop liking you. Never.”

And before I could say anything else—before I could laugh and make a joke of it, or, worse, burst into tears—he kissed me, his tongue probing against my lips until I parted them and let him inside.

Just believe him,I told myself.Just believe him.

I ran my fingers through his hair, then dug them into his shoulders. I didn’t want to doubt anymore. Didn’t want to be scared.

“Never,” Blake repeated, thrusting harder. “Never.”

He sped up, his lips whispering reassurance in my ear until I was right on the edge. He slid his hand down my chest and found my cock.

“Oh, fuck, Blake,” I panted. Everything inside me tightened, a moment of calm before the storm. His fingers circled the head of my cock. He pumped inside me. His teeth grazed my neck. “Blake, God, yes, Blake.”

I came, my orgasm rolling through me, shooting ropes onto my stomach and chest. He grinned down at me, his eyes shot through with hunger.

“That’s a good look on you.”

“Not half as good as I’ll look when you come inside me.” I felt weak with pleasure, but I needed that more than I’d ever needed anything.

“Yeah, you want that? Want my load?”

“Fuck yes. I need it.”

He sped up, his thrusts growing erratic, and I rode the tide of sensation, pushed close to the limits of what I could handle. It was almost too much, but knowing Blake was close kept me hanging on. Knowing I could finally get what I needed.

His hips stuttered. A wave ran through his body. He bit at my neck, sucking the skin there as his body stilled, and I felt it—the throb of his cock inside me, the blossoming spread of heat.

“Fill me up,” I panted. “Fill me up.”

He thrust one final time, his cock twitching again. Knowing he was spilling deep inside me was almost enough for me to get hard all over again.

It was a first for both of us. I knew Blake had had sex with women, but never anal, and never without condoms. No matter what happened, we’d always share this connection. You could only have one first time.

For once, he didn’t have to pull out and throw away a condom. He could stay inside me as long as he wanted. I luxuriated in being filled, in the quiet exhaustion we both felt, the shared satisfaction. It was hushed and soft and perfect.

When he finally pulled out, his eyes went wide as he stared at my hole. I wasn’t gaping, but I wasn’t quite closed either, and he looked transfixed.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s hot.”

“What is?”

“The way you—oh, God, there’s—fuck.” He shook his head. “I can see my cum dripping out of you.”

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