Page 59 of A Man To Remember
The stretch and the fullness balance just on the edge of being too much, and even though the sensations are nothing like I've ever felt before, I find myself enjoying every single second of it.
Was it really just a couple of weeks ago that I thought I was straight? It all seems so laughable now. So absurd.
Guess it's safe to say that ship has sailed forever. And I don't miss it one bit.
Austin presses his entire body against mine, chest to back. There's this pained sound of restraint in his breathing, like it's taking everything he has to stay perfectly still and let me adjust to having him inside me.
It only takes a few seconds for my body to fully accept him. I clench around his cock experimentally, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan.
And suddenly patience isn't an option anymore.
"Move," I demand, pushing back against him.
And he does, pulling back halfway before sliding home again. The drag of his cock against my inner walls is hitting nerve endings I didn't know existed. He fucks me slowly at first, long, deliberate strokes that let me feel every inch of him.
Each thrust brings new sensations, new angles, new ways of being filled and stretched and claimed. He shifts behind me occasionally, adjusting his position, testing different angles to see what makes me gasp, what makes me moan, what makes me push back for more.
I'm enjoying every single one of these angles, each one bringing something new, grazing different spots inside me.
When he shifts again, angling his hips just slightly, the head of his cock hits directly against my prostate. The sensation is so intense it almost makes my knees give out, and I let out a deep, long moan that echoes off the walls.
He pauses, cock fully inside me, and lets out a strained chuckle. "Hi there," he whispers in my ear.
And then he really starts moving.
I yelp as he withdraws almost completely before slamming back in, the force of the thrust pushing me forward into the wall. He finds a new rhythm, urgent and unforgiving.
I can't breathe normally anymore, each breath cut short every time he slams into me. My cock is leaking steadily, bouncing between my legs with each thrust, throbbing with desperate need.
But I don't touch it. I'm too focused on the sensation of Austin behind me,inside me, claiming me with each powerful thrust. He's hitting my prostate with every stroke. If I were to touch myself right now, I'd come on the spot.
And so I let out a shaky breath and take it. Take everything he has to offer, every powerful thrust, every grunt of effort, every inch of his cock as he pounds into me like his life depends on it.
His palm finds mine against the wall, and our fingers entwine, and when he puts his other hand on my throat, squeezing firmly but not painfully, my head spins and I'm sure I'm in an entirely different orbit.
The room fills with our combined sounds, moans and groans and occasional curses and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. I'm sure if we wereout there, in one of the public rooms right now, we'd be the loudest ones there.
"Jesse," he says, and my eyes snap open. This is the most authoritative he's ever sounded, even though his words come out chopped, cut in half each time he bottoms out inside me. "I'm so fucking close I could die right now."
His thrusts are getting more erratic, more desperate.
With one hand still on my throat, he lowers the other and wraps his palm around my cock, starting to stroke me with firm, quick movements that match the rhythm of his hips.
"And I want you to die with me."
And with that, I do die, even though I'm not sure I've ever felt as alive as I do right now.
My eyes squeeze shut and I press my cheek hard against the wall as pleasure explodes from every single cell in my body. It's all-consuming, life-altering, like every orgasm I've ever had before this was just practice for the real thing.
My cock erupts in his hand, painting the wall with thick ropes of cum while my hole spasms around him, clenching and releasing in waves that go on forever. The dual sensations merge into one overwhelming experience that has me screaming his name like a benediction. Like the only word that matters.
The sounds he makes as my orgasm triggers his own are pure music—no lyrics, no language, just raw, primal expressions of pleasure that I want to record and play back later when I need to remember what it feels like to be completely, utterly satisfied.
My legs are shaking and I keep my eyes shut. If I were to open them right now, I'm sure I'd lose my balance and collapse.
But I don't need to look at Austin to know he's coming with me,inside me, and my entire soul wishes I could make this moment last forever—the moment we become one.
I barely register when his movements become slower, then sparse, then stop altogether. I'm too busy trying to catch my breath, trying to form thoughts that make sense, trying to process what just happened to my body and my brain and possibly my entire worldview, enjoying Austin's body weight where he's half-collapsed against me, pushing me into the wall with his full weight. It's like we're mutually keeping each other upright, both too fucked-out to support ourselves independently.
