for a boy in his mid-twenties, alex struggles with his stamina. from my perspective, it is refreshing.
he is sweet and honest, his pride doesn’t keep him from cuming. his sexual experience is negligible, which makes him free from fucked up baggage.
we kissed and rubbed until i couldn’t take much more – “you should fuck me.” i whispered.
he got up to grab a condom, i continued to writhe on the bed. he crouched next to me, near my head, and slowly slid the condom on his erection.
i watched with big eyes. big hungry eyes.
he pulled my knees apart and took my nipple in his mouth, rubbed my clit with two fingers. there he stayed, sucking and rubbing. my back arched, my jaw tightened, my breath moaned. “are you torturing me?” i asked after what seemed like an eternity.
“yes.” he whispered into my ear.
have i underestimated this dear man? have i overestimated his sweetness? is he more sexually deviant than he lets on? god, i hope so.
he still didn’t make a move. and i laid there squirming.
he finally pulled my hips to met his. sliding in and out of me with calculated strokes. i just wanted him to pound into me. i flipped over and had him take me from the back, he only lasted two strokes – but tried to continue. i need to tell him i can feel it when he loses his erection.
i stretched out on my stomach as he cleaned himself up. i turned my head towards him, pushing my dark curls out of the way. “we need to practice. everyday. twice a day.”
he smiled, “that sounds good to me.”
“let’s do it again.”
“give me a minute,” he said the way every man does.
so i did, i gave him a minute. then i stuck my ass out and rubbed it against him. relentlessly torturing his cock until it grew hard.
this time he was quicker with the condom and the penetration. on my back, with my legs spread wide, i was so much closer this time. all my senses were tingling, my body was quivering, my eyes were rolling into the back of my head.
it took me like an unexpected wave. like electro-shock. like a whirlwind of pleasure.
from the bottom, i watched him watch me – his expression began as dead pan curiosity and slowly melted into a loving glow. he seemed proud of himself, amazed at my performance, and deeply entranced by what was happening between us.
it felt amazing.
“better?” he asked.
i looked at him with surprise, “better than what?”
“do you feel better than before?”
“i suppose, but i felt great the whole damn time.”
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