Page 32 of Uncharted Desires
The thought evaporates when the tip of Sawyer's slippery finger pushes past my tense muscles and makes its way inside my body.
I breathe heavily, desperately trying to relax. But how? How can I relax with him so close? How can I set aside the fact that his finger slides deeper inside me, venturing where no one else has been before?
My body goes rigid and I clench my jaw, breathing through my nose, taking in the sensation as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until his finger is fully lodged inside me, my hole clenching around it.
“How does it feel?” he breathes out, piercing eyes scrutinizing my face.
“Weird,” is the first thing that pops into my mind.
Sawyer lets out a breathy chuckle. “Just relax. It will feel good in a second.”
The promise in his voice makes my cock twitch, pre-cum mingling with the lube dripping down my length.
Seconds pass, and Sawyer remains still, his finger motionless inside me.
The muscles of my entrance twitch, simultaneously absorbing and rejecting the intrusion, the dichotomy wiping away any conscious thought that forms in my brain.
Maybe I’m not supposed to think right now. Maybe all I’m supposed to do is experience.
And just as I begin to get accustomed to the feeling of a foreign object in my ass, Sawyer crooks his finger inside me and my body jerks, my back shooting off the mattress as he hits something inside me that almost makes me come on the spot.
“There you go,” he says as my body falls back down.
“Can you…?” My voice comes out shaky.
“Can I what, Blake?”
I don’t even mind that he makes me say it. I’d say anything he wanted me to right now. “Do that again.”
He slides his finger halfway out, the strange sensation surfacing once more, but before it can settle, he pushes back in and hits that spot again.
“Fuck.Fuck.” Curses shoot out of me in staccato fashion now as he repeats the tiny movement, and his finger starts pumping into me, tiny, gentle movements enough to send me dancing right on the edge.
How can this feel so good? It makes no sense. Yet here I am, my back arching off the mattress in a silent plea for more.
And this time, Sawyer seems to get my wordless beg as he crawls up closer, his thighs spreading mine even wider, and wraps his hand around both our cocks, sliding it up and down our lengths as he finger-fucks me.
I cover my face with my palms and scream into them as overwhelming pleasure pools all around my groin.
My hips roll and I’m trying to simultaneously buck into the tight grip of his fist and impale myself on his finger that continues to probe what I now realize must be my prostate.
“Sawyer…” It’s the only word left in my vocabulary. I want to ask him to slow down or pause altogether before I embarrass myself by shooting my load within seconds.
But as soon as my eyes land on his face, I realize no words are necessary.
His teeth are bared, face crooked in a wild grimace, while his eyes are glued to where his finger disappears in my ass time and time again.
His hips push toward me as he grinds his cock against mine inside his fist.
It’s the image that proves to be my final straw.
“Fuck.Sawyer.”
There’s no stopping my orgasm now as he moves his hand and twists it around the heads of our connected cocks, and on my next inhale, the air gets stuck in my lungs as I shoot off the mattress, my forehead almost hitting his, and a full-body shake runs through me as come shoots out of me and into his fist.
I prop my hands on the mattress behind me and pump my hips up, fucking into his palm.
What comes out of Sawyer’s throat I can only describe as a roar, and even through the orgasmic haze that clouds my mind, I recognize his stance as he follows me, coming all around my cock, his hands never stopping their multi-frontal assault on my body.
