Page 68 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
I want to shove my cock in his ass, feel him strangling me while I piston my hips over and over. That’s the only way I fuck—rough. But I can’t do that. Not with TJ. I need to be gentle since it’s his first time.
My hands tremble when I place them on his back. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? Am I nervous? It’s his first time, not mine. But I want it to be amazing. Mine was passable at best and a little painful. We were both sixteen, horny and clueless. This is not like that. This feels like…something. I’ve never had sex that means something until him. Because TJ is right, we are more, so much more.
I close my eyes against the happiness spreading inside me, trying to fight against it, since I’m not used to it. Then I open them again when he starts fidgeting under me.
“Do it,” he begs so damn sexily. He turns his head toward me; our dark gazes lock and don’t waver as I start pushing into him. The ring of muscle yields easily, and my cockhead is quicklysucked inside the warmest hole I’ve ever fucked. He hisses, and I stop, caressing his back.
“Breathe. You’re doing so good,” I encourage him.
“More,” he moans after a couple of seconds, and I give it to him. When I’m half inside, sweat runs down my spine and my teeth hurt from all the gritting. I’m trying to control myself, but I can’t stop my hips from bucking. Shallow thrusts, my tip goes in and comes slowly out, stretching his tight, pink hole. The sight makes my eyes cross.
“Fuck, baby.” The emotion filling his voice makes me shiver with lust and hope. And I can’t resist anymore. With a smooth thrust, I bottom out. He gasps, arching his back as I moan in delight at the tightness surrounding me.
“Okay?” I ask, receiving a vigorous nod in reply.
His hands fall on the sheets, and he props his arms up as he starts to move against me, tentatively at first. A moment later, he’s fucking my cock with abandon, letting out the sluttiest sounds.
“Holy shit! Spencer, so good. So fucking good.”
Feeling my length inside him while my own gaping hole is still wet with his cum makes me reach a new level of horny.
“Keep bouncing that ass on my cock, TJ.” That jiggling every time he takes my dick inside is hypnotizing. I spread his butt cheeks to get a better look at our connection. He’s sucking me in like a pro, and I start to rock my hips.
“Yes! Fuck me,” he begs again, his eyes back to mine. I can’t look away from the flames burning there. The redness painting his cheeks. His tongue peeking between his parted lips.
I start a fast tempo, loving the wet sound of his virgin ass being fucked for the first time.
“Your ass feels divine, TJ,” I pant. “So good at taking your first cock.”
He gasps. “Yes, want your cock.” He’s jerking himself—fucking love athletes’ stamina.
“Don’t stop. Right there. Fuck it harder.” Damn, he’s turned wild. He loves to be nailed. He's a slut for it. And I’ll be the only one knowing that.
The possessive thought turns me feral. I grab his hips, and as soon as I start hammering away, he cries out my name in a pleasure-drenched voice as he starts coming.
“That’s right. Come on my cock, squeeze my cum out,” I growl as he clenches around me repeatedly. Out of nowhere, my orgasm crashes into me. And it feels like it just keeps going on and on and on. I fly so fucking high, and when I come back down to earth, I’m still pumping my cock inside him, shivering at the feel of his cum-filled hole. His hips barely move, just a gentle push here and there while I give him lazy thrusts that make him moan as I enjoy the echoes of the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever felt.
I roll on my back, taking him with me, my dick still tucked inside him as my cum drips down his balls. My arm falls on his waist, and he immediately grabs my hand, lacing our fingers. Even his hair smells like cinnamon, how is that possible?
“Fuck, we didn’t use condoms,” he mutters.
I think about it. I love to feel slippery with his cum and to stuff him with mine. I don’t like to have barriers between us. “Are you clean?” I ask him.
“Yes. And I’ve never done it without a rubber,” he explains.
I wait, and when he keeps silent, I frown. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“I trust you.”
I’m baffled. “Why?”
“I just do.” After a couple of seconds, he asks, “Can you trust me?”
Can I? Will he hurt me again? He probably will without wanting to. And that I can bear. It’s okay. What’s not okay is the fear of being abandoned again.
“Promise me you won’t leave me,” I whisper. His body tenses, then he untangles himself and turns to face me.
“Who left you?” His voice is soft and caring. It makes me purr like a cat and annoys me at the same time.Perceptive fucker.
