Page 32 of His Dirty Obsession
He carried on, working me open with his thumb, then two fingers, a delicious stretch and burn. I brought my knees up, resting my heels on the edge of the table, and dropped my legs open, holding them with my hands.
I wanted him to have unimpeded access to me. I craved his touch, and when he finally stopped and removed his clothing, my heart beat a little faster.
Finally, I’d be getting the dick I so craved. And what a dick! It was thick, veiny and uncut, but his foreskin was pulled back, revealing the head. It was leaking steadily, drop by drop, onto the kitchen floor.
We were both horny as fuck, and as much as I wanted him to take his time, I hungered for it.
“Fuck me, Ben. Don’t wait any longer.” I wanted him now.
“I don’t have a condom down here.” He sounded exasperated, and I could understand why.
Shit, neither did I, and for both our safety, we should use one.
“Hurry the fuck up and get one, Ben. I can’t wait much longer.”
He turned and left the room, his cock bobbing as he ran. I heard him pound up the stairs only to return what seemed like hours later, tearing the packet open.
“How are we going to do this?” I asked. I wasn’t sure doing it on the table was the best option.
“Stand up. Bend over the table.” There was my dominant Ben again, and I complied as quickly as I could.
That would work. I got off and bent over, leaning my chest on the cool wood. I had neglected my cock through all of this, and I was desperate to touch myself. As if he’d read my mind, Ben spoke.
“Don’t even think of touching yourself. We’ll deal with that later. Open yourself up for me. I want to see you do that for me.”
I reached behind me, putting all my weight on my chest on the table, my feet firmly planted on the floor. Gripping my cheeks, I shamelessly exposed myself to him, my hole opening up, ready for his cock.
Another couple of fingers found their way in, fucking me. It was divine, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
“I’m going to need more than that, Ben. I need that fucking cock. Do it now.”
He slapped my arse, and I groaned. Fucking hell, I was such a slut for him.
He rolled the condom onto his dick, taking his sweet fucking time. I was about to die. How could it take him so excruciatingly long?
Soon enough, though, I felt the blunt end of his cock nudging my entrance.
“Open it wider. I want to see that gape.”
Fuck, he could talk dirty when he wanted to, but I did as I was told and forced my cheeks as wide as they would go, glancing at him over my shoulder, urging him to just fucking do it!
“Yes, just like I imagined,” he said as he slowly but surely pushed his way in, resting as he got as far as he could go.
Dear God. It surpassed all my expectations. Struggling to hold myself open, I released my cheeks and grabbed hold of the table, gripping on for dear life as he set a punishing pace. He hadn’t been slow in getting started, but I had no complaint, feeling each thrust as he pounded into me.
My dick pulsed with each snap of his hips.
“Fuck, yeah,” I moaned. “More. I need more. Harder, Ben.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Xavier.”
“You won’t. I can take it.” He slowed down the pace but made each stroke count, grunting with each new thrust, deep and dirty.
“Let go of the table,” he managed between groans, and I did as he asked. He pulled me up to standing, bending his legs slightly so he could continue to fuck me from behind, the change in angle hitting my prostate every time.
I didn’t know how long this went on for, his one arm around my chest, the other on my hip, steadying me as he fucked me. It was all too much, and I needed to come so badly. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath, trying to force it.
“Ben, please let me come,” I uttered, my voice strained. “Please, I need you to touch me.”
