Later? I can't help the smug, beaming smirk twisting my lips, even as I thrust my second finger to join the first, even as my hand NOT buried deep in his ass shoves impatiently at the waistband of his pants, pushing them down. He helps, bracing himself with one hand, shoving downward with his other. As soon as his pants are far enough down to bare his ass I stop, catching my breath, while my cock thrums against the way, way too tight confines of my own clothes.
I get the closure open as fast as I can, thankful beyond reason that my trousers close with laces, not complicated metal bits that take much more brain to navigate than I currently have at my command. Finally I'm free, stiff and hot against the vee of his ass, and he makes an obscene noise and I can't hold back any longer. I'm buried to the root in him before I've even completed my next thought, something about risk, something moderately damaging to his body about cocking him without letting him at least see what I'm striking so deep with.
Not that it matters. He's swallowed me up and I can't find my breath, hissing and gasping to try to find it. I'm bent over his back, fists knotted in the fabric of his shirt, and my hips are already rolling against his, rutting him with shallow little in and out thrusts that only bare the last little bit of my cock above the root. I don't think I could bear to pull further out than that; he is -- his body is -- everything that this should be; and because of the suddenness, the shock, the banter-- somehow, even more.
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timeasmymeasure
[You like it.]
Date: 2012-06-23 06:43 am (UTC)I get the closure open as fast as I can, thankful beyond reason that my trousers close with laces, not complicated metal bits that take much more brain to navigate than I currently have at my command. Finally I'm free, stiff and hot against the vee of his ass, and he makes an obscene noise and I can't hold back any longer. I'm buried to the root in him before I've even completed my next thought, something about risk, something moderately damaging to his body about cocking him without letting him at least see what I'm striking so deep with.
Not that it matters. He's swallowed me up and I can't find my breath, hissing and gasping to try to find it. I'm bent over his back, fists knotted in the fabric of his shirt, and my hips are already rolling against his, rutting him with shallow little in and out thrusts that only bare the last little bit of my cock above the root. I don't think I could bear to pull further out than that; he is -- his body is -- everything that this should be; and because of the suddenness, the shock, the banter-- somehow, even more.