Saturday, May 10, 2014

Bearing Gifts

I have this rule of sorts: We don't write about guys we are currently seeing.

It's mostly arbitrary and if I thought hard enough I could come up with a very valid reason for why it's warranted but it's just one of my rules.  And technically, I didn't break it.

When I pumped my load into that upturned, hoola-hooping ass the first time I had very little thought that this experienced, older, lithe, Hispanic bottom would be back. Yeah, I played along with the idle texts every few days but it wasn't until I was once again tongue deep, with him, knees spread and shoulder digging into the back of the living room sofa that I really realized that he was probably kinda into me.

"Aw, I missed you papi, you know how to eat that so good!" Of course the thoughts started to creep in: I have readers to satiate, appetites to whet and feed. My tongue dug a little bit deeper, swirling in his hairless pucker before pulling out and licking from taint, up through the crack. But there was the rule. I decided to push my spit slicked thumb into him to take a quick test of the waters while reaching around to check the blue and green striped pouch of his ass-less jock that was bearing more than a chubby. If I already wrote about him, what would he the harm in continuing? This was a unique circumstance.  He was still a little too tight so, I buried my tongue again, feeling him relax and open up, inviting me to probe further.

"Give me that dick," Ok, definitely have to write about this. I acquiesced, knowing he was just a touch too tight for me.

My cock didn't agree, slipping pretty quickly down and into his ass, to the root. "Ah fuck! I missed that," he moaned, turning around and kissing me.  I sat there, both hands on the small of his back, buried inside, flexing and relaxing at will.  It took him a minute before he'd gotten used to it and started that rock of his hips.

***

I pulled all the way out, grabbed my cock by the base of the condom and in one swift move, plunged back inside. "Fuck." I pulled out again, and back in "Me." A few short strokes, a circular swing of the hips and then out again. My thumb was up next, and found him almost gaping.  Massaging his taint with the balls of my fingers and gently pressing around with my thumb, I leaned forward for another kiss.

"You like that shit papi?" he moaned when our lips pulled apart. I kissed him again, "I know you like that ass; you tear it up so good." I smiled.

"I brought something for you," he said, my digit still roving. My other hand was now pawing at his pouch, damp with precum. He reached beside him, opened a highlighter yellow plastic bag and pulled out what looked like a glow in the dark orange dildo.

Read the rest on Nifty soon.

2 comments:

  1. Bah! A cliff-hanger! Ha!
    Interesting about the rule. I'm usually so giddy afterwards that I jot down notes a few hours after and then anxiously wait for some break in my routine to adequately devote enough attention to the "gift" that the other has imparted onto me, that memory that is so delicate sometimes I need that bright yellow plastic bag to wrap it in.

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    Replies
    1. look at mr. expert word play :P
      nice.

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