Page 27 of Wild Obsession

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he says. “But what if I want more than you can give? What if I want to fuck those nice thick thighs of yours until I come all over your body?”

“God, yes. Yes, Keannen.”

I didn’t even know you could fuck someone’s thighs, but suddenly it’s all I want in the world.

Keannen shoves me forward. I stumble, but he grabs me by the hips and bends me forward so my hands are braced against the back of a couch affixed to the wall. Without ceremony, Keannen reaches around me and undoes my pants, shoving them and the briefs under them down to my ankles.

Then he slaps me on the ass.

I yelp, more from surprise than pain. I don’t get much time to contend with the sensation, though. A second later, Keannen reaches between my legs and gives my cock several hard, swift pumps. His touch disappears again, and a cap pops open behind me. When Keannen touches me again, he spreads faintly cool lube all along my thighs. It squelches ashe apparently strokes it onto himself as well.

“Remember that you asked me for this,” Keannen says.

I did, but standing here bent over the couch with my whole body at his mercy, I’d be lying if I claimed a sliver of fear hadn’t interrupted all the pent up desire. Keannen slides up behind me, kicking my legs closed, then fitting his dick between my thighs while gripping my hips.

I gasp in a breath. That’s a cock, a real one, and it’s big and thick and squeezing between my thighs. The heat of it reminds me that this is the first time in my life I’m touching one that’s not my own … and it’s happening in just about the weirdest way possible.

My bitter ex who is now my musical rival is fucking himself between my thighs.

And it feels incredible.

His cock grates against my skin, his fingers digging into my hips so he can hold me the way he wants me. My skin tingles where he slapped me, but in a pleasant way. Every time he slides himself between my thighs, his cock grazes my sac and sends a jolt of pleasure spiking through me.

I clench my thighs tighter on instinct, and Keannen groans. Not a performative, put on groan. Not a growl so he can order me around. A real, genuine groan of pleasure.

I’d do damn near anything to hear it again.

I keep clenching my thighs, holding him tight, and Keannen thrusts harder. The burn prickles my skin, but the lube softens the sharp edges off it, leaving behind onlyenticing friction. I’m not sure if that’s what’s doing it or it’s the blunt fact of his body against mine. After all the waiting, all the teasing, he’s finally, finally touching me, and that might be doing even more for me than his cock.

“Fuck, this ass is so good,” Keannen growls like he’s inside me and not merely burning up my thighs. Then he makes that fantasy a bit more real by thumbing over my hole.

I shout, the cry so loud it must be audible even out in the parking lot.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Keannen says. “You like when I touch you there. Bet you’d like my cock there stretching out that virgin hole of yours.”

I’m panting too hard to respond, but even if I wasn’t, I’m not sure what I’d say. I always figured that sort of thing would be kind of uncomfortable, but when Keannen touches my rim, there’s no pain. There’s sparks and fire and clenching, gut-wrenching need.

He spits, using his fingers to rub the saliva over me. Then his finger is prodding at me, just the tip of one digit, but it’s enough to have me clinging to the couch in front of me and groaning anew. He teases my hole, swirling his fingertip around it, pressing enough that it feels like he might go inside but always leaving me wanting more. Meanwhile, his hips piston, cock sliding greedily between my clenched thighs.

I scrabble desperately for myself. Keannen doesn’t tellme to stop, so I pump, too needy for the shame to reach me as his teasing pushes me toward the edge. Keannen presses a finger into me at last, and a moan warbles out of my throat.

“That’s it, straight boy,” he says. “Squeeze me. Yeah. You want it so bad. You want to be under me so fucking bad, my big cock spreading you open.”

“Yes,” I cry, senseless, delirious. “Yes, fuck, yes.”

“Shit,” he hisses. “So needy. I’m going to ruin you if you keep begging me to.”

“Yes,” I whimper again.

I’m too far gone to care. He can ruin me if that’s what he needs. He’s already ruining me. His cock, his finger, his scratchy, brutal words. He’s stripping me bare before him, and I’m not resisting at all. I’m too busy stroking myself as he slides between my thighs and that finger presses so sweetly inside me.

Heat boils up in my throat. Masturbating has never been like this. Not even close. The heat reaches new heights, my body tensing around a pleasure bigger than any I’ve ever felt. I squeeze my eyes shut, jerking my cock hard and screaming at the quiet tour bus around me.

I explode over my hand without warning, shuddering and shaking and squeezing my legs together so tightly that Keannen curses an instant before warmth coats my skin. For a second we’re weightless, pulled taut by pleasure but empty of all else. Then we come crashing back down, sagging heavily to the floor in a heap of useless limbs.

I pant against the edge of the couch, head spinning. Was that my first time? I was still basically masturbating, but it was so muchmorethan any solo session’s ever been. Keannen was touching me, using me. That’s gotta count as something, right?

It seems he isn’t going to help me find the answer. After a few moments, he grumbles about ruining the couch and “the guys are gonna kill me,” then gets up to stalk around the bus. I remain on the floor until he hands me a towel so I can clean the cum off my hand and thighs.

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