Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Breathe, Denny. Breathe.” Hank kissed me, sweeping his tongue over the seam of my mouth as he pulled almost all the way out, his cockhead buried in my ass, before plunging inside again.
“It’s not—I don’t—oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That’s good.”
I let out a whoosh of air, pleasure chasing pain away in an instant. Like magic. I was shaking. It was too much and not enough at the same time. I needed more.
Hank knew exactly what to do. He covered me, resting his forehead on mine…and began to move.
It was incredible, mind-blowing, life-altering. Yeah, cheesy, I know, but I’d been transported to another realm, so give me a break. I hooked my legs around his ass, drawing him closer still, chanting, “Yes, more, fuck me.”
Hank delivered. He upped the tempo, rocking his hips to a rhythm I instinctively knew how to follow. I met his thrusts, digging my heels into the meaty flesh of his ass cheeks, gliding my tongue with his as Hank nailed my prostate over and over. I was overwhelmed, happily drugged on the weight and feel of him. But I couldn’t fight off the tingle at the base of my spine. No chance.
I slid my hand between us and stroked my cock as he moved faster, harder, deeper.
“Come for me, Den. Come, sweetheart. I got you.”
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!” I roared, pleasure bolting through my veins. I came so hard, cum shot over my belly and chest as I rode out wave after wave of bliss.
Hank didn’t stop. He pistoned his hips till he lost the tempo and fell apart. I could feel him come inside me, and that was definitely a new one.
I blinked up at him and draped my arms over his neck. “Wow.”
He dipped his chin to kiss me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I can move. You’ll have to stay here…just like this. And then I want to do it again.”
“No problem.”
“And I want to fuck you too, so…I hope you didn’t plan on getting any sleep tonight.”
“Sleep is overrated,” he conceded.
“That’s the spirit. Oh, hey…and next time, wear your cowboy hat.”
Hank barked a laugh and blew a raspberry on my neck. “You got it.”
We didn’t sleep much that night or the next. I was already a BJ and hand job sexaholic, but I’d officially entered a new phase of sexual discovery, and this was better than I’d imagined. There were so many positions, so many ways to touch and make each other feel good. I had a lot to learn, and only a real slacker took a break from their studies. And I was no slacker.
I couldn’t get enough of Hank. I was obsessed with his dick. I wanted to ride him, bend over for him, let him fuck me against a wall, a tree, or the side of his truck. And yes, I wanted to return the favor.
Hank had zero hang-ups about sex. He didn’t subscribe to heteronormative notions of masculinity. Being “on top” was just a position and a preference that might change depending on your partner or the moment. He was versatile and willing to try almost anything.
The first time I fucked him, he was on his knees with his cowboy hat on, white-knuckling the headboard. I’d taken a moment to drink in the sight of this muscular hunk offering himself like a gift. My hand had been shaking as I’d guided my cock to his puckered entrance.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I’d rasped.
“Denny, stop thinking and start fucking. You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
I’d chuckled at his playful, put-upon tone. He didn’t give me a chance to overthink…anything. He was so open and honest and real.
And as I’d eased my thick cock inside his tight channel, a whole new constellation of stars had flooded my vision. It had felt like a religious experience. New and sacred. Every push and pull had sent pleasure coursing through my veins. My hands on his hips, my mouth on his shoulder. I’d fucked my cowboy like a champ, thrusting deeper and deeper, chasing his release and mine. The sweat, cum, and sheer adrenaline was unlike anything I’d ever felt.
I was hooked. I wanted to do this every day, multiple times a day, please.
I fucked him on a kitchen barstool, his ass perched on the edge, knees pulled to his chest while I drilled his hole. I fucked him in the shower and on the rug in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t a matter of taking turns. We just did what felt right. And we talked about it.
Okay, that was me, asking a million questions.
“Do you have a favorite position? Do you like it fast or slow? Do you like dirty talk…if so, how dirty? Do you have fantasies? What about kinks?”
Hank had answered them all in stride. “If I’m in the driver’s seat, I like missionary. If I’m on the receiving end, I prefer being on my knees. Fast or slow…yes to both. Talk dirty to me, baby, and yes, I have lots of fantasies. Especially about hockey players.”