“Get it off,” I snapped, lunging at him again, and managing to get hold of the collar and I braced my leg against the wall and pulled it over his head so hard that he staggered forward, and by accident or design toppled on top of me and we fell back onto the chenille rug.
He pinned me and I groaned loudly as he covered me with his weight and sank his teeth into my neck, the shirt covering both our heads as I seized his face and forced his mouth against mine. He nipped my lips until I cried out and I dug my hands into his jeans pockets to knead his ass as he thrust against me and I crushed my legs around his thighs with all my strength.
He took my neck in one hand and leaned my head back as he plunged his tongue into my mouth. He tasted of toothpaste as if he had just brushed his teeth and his hot, heavy body grinding against me smelled strongly of aftershave and I caught the lingering scent of lemon, the lemon body wash he’d used on me last night.
I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him up and off me. He rolled over and I sat astride him. I could feel his erection hot in the cleft of my ass and I ground hard against it as I tugged his shirt, trying to get it off his arms.
When the shirt finally came off, I tossed it across the room, then abruptly got up and walked away, to the nightstand. I opened the drawer, remembering that was where he had found the lube and condoms last night.
Something landed on the bed. It was the tube of lube. I looked up at him as he came toward me. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the moan that was trying to escape from the depths of my being.
I knelt as he came up behind me and pushed my leggings down until my ass was bare. I heard the sound of him unzipping his fly and moaned out loud when the crinkling sound of a condom wrapper followed it. I went on my hands and knees. I was so hard I could feel my cock pulsing with heat.
“Don’t finger me,” I gasped. “Just—ahhhhhhhhhh—”
My arms gave out and I landed face-first in the blanket as his mouth closed over my asshole and I felt his tongue swirling around the ring of muscle.
“Ahhhh—oh—ahhh—ahhhhh—”
His hands gripped my hips and his tongue found my taint and then I felt his mouth engulf my balls and his moan vibrate them until I was incoherent. When I managed to raise myself onto my elbows, I was drooling.
“Ahhhh—oh—oh—oh—”
Even if I had wanted to find words, I couldn’t. My eyes rolled back in my head and I panted as I pushed back on him, my hips trying to flex against the strong grip of his hands.
I sat up, pushing his face away, and struggled to get my leggings down and over one knee. He helped, pulling the material over my calf and foot so my leg was free. Too desperate to take the other leg off, I found the lube, reached around until I found his dick and spread practically half the tube onto it.
He gasped and pushed the tight stretch shirt I was wearing up my back, his hands running up and down my back and over my hips and haunches. I felt his knee come to rest on the bed next to my calf.
I took his dick and pushed it against my asshole until I felt it start to give, gasped and groaned at the pain as I tried to force myself to relax. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and when I let it out, I pushed his dick all the way in.
“Oh—god—Anthony—” he cried out, his hands holding my hips so tightly that I knew there would be bruises.
I immediately went back onto all fours, spreading my legs wide and arching my back and pulling forward as I felt his length slide through me.
“Ahhhh—” I cried out and grabbed handfuls of the bed covers.
It hurt so much and the heat and the tightness and the pure filthy feeling of his cock sliding inside me pulled the void into me like a magician disappears a black silk handkerchief through his fingers and then pulls it out again with a flare and flutter.
I pushed back again and as his cock drove back in again, the pain increased until he hit my prostate and I cried out and started fucking his dick frantically.
He matched my pace, grunting each time our flesh slapped together, louder and faster, as the bed started to shake and pound against the wall. Sweat was pouring down my body and every time he hit that spot inside me, I cried out.
I could feel my erection getting harder and harder until I thought it would burst on its own, and the sounds pouring out of me became more and more desperate and I lost control over them until it seemed like one continuous wail and still I needed more, still it wasn’t enough.
“Harder—” I begged. “Harder!”
Marcus paused for a fraction of a second, and then the world turned as I was flipped over.
He ripped the bunched up leggings off my left leg with one smooth movement, then took hold of me again, twisting me onto my side, my legs at a crazy angle, one over his shoulder, as he pulled my ass to the edge of the bed and planted both his feet on the wooden floor, one hand on the bed, one gripping my thigh, and he stared into my eyes.
We had disconnected while he turned me. As I looked at him, I felt the tip of his erection nudge my asshole.
“Tell me,” he breathed, trembling slightly.
I could feel myself trembling as well. “I—”
“What do you want?” He growled, his voice gravelly.
I whimpered in sheer arousal and reached down and took hold of his penis, controlling my breathing again so I would relax. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back as I felt it start to slide back inside me.
This time, I didn’t know how, but he got even deeper.
Every time his dick slammed into my prostate, it sent a shockwave of electricity through me. I looked at him through a haze of desire and I could see his face contorting, his dark eyes staring at me, boring into me, as he grunted and gasped and a torrent of words came pouring out.
“Ohmygod—Anthony—ah-ah-ah—Anthony—you drive me fucking insane—I—I—can’t take it—Oh—god—Anthony—why—why do you do this—oh—ahh—why are you doing this to me—you’re so bleeding tight—”
He fell forward onto me and gathered me into his arms, tightly against him, so hard that I thought he was going to break me into pieces like a piece of fine bone china, and buried his face in my shoulder, his hips pumping furiously as he puffed and panted into the crook of my neck. “I’m coming Anthony—I’m coming—fuck me, I’m coming—”
As soon as he stopped moving, I pushed his shoulders so he wouldn’t collapse on top of me again. “Make me come,” I gasped.
“You want me to pull out?” He breathed against my mouth, kissing my lips.
“Yes—just—” I writhed against him in frustration, dying from the slowing of the pace. “Just use your mouth on me—”
He sat up and I tried not to grit my teeth as he pulled out and slid down my body until he was kneeling on the floor, holding my knees apart with his hands, kissing my knee and down my thigh.
My hips flexed. “Marcus—” I gasped. I couldn’t bear it any longer.
“That’s it,” Marcus said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “I want to hear you say my name.”
I raised my head to look at him, my desperation written all over my face. I would say whatever he wanted me to. “Please suck my cock.”
“My name,” he muttered, mouthing the soft skin on my inner thigh.
“Ah—please Marcus,” I grasped the bedcovers and rolled them over my face and shoulders so I wouldn’t see him there. I didn't want to hear my own voice begging him. I didn’t want to be this.
“Please swallow my dick like you did before, Marcus, oh St Sebastian it was so good—oh—ohhhh—ohh godddd—” I bawled as my dick was sucked into tight heat and his arms came up inside my shirt and twisted my nipples.
He sucked up and down my dick and when he came back up, his tongue swirled around the head and stuck right into the slit. I shuddered and grabbed his forearms where they were kneading my chest, and a wave of ecstasy rolled through me, and then another.
The third was so strong that I cried out and spurted right against his tongue, and the depths
of the orgasm hit me from deep inside, quaking the innermost depths of me and I felt as if I was going to come forever—as if I was falling into the void that had previously inhabited me, now I inhabited it.
Damaris appeared in front of me, floating naked in the blackness of the void.
Would you go back and undo everything that’s happened since Friday?
When I looked into her dark eyes they seemed to be cut outs showing the way through to the void behind.
If I go back, I’ll be untouched again. But is that worth everything else?
My eyes opened and I was lying there, panting, in a pool of sweat, with my dick still in Marcus’ mouth. I struggled onto my elbows and he let me go and laid his cheek on my sharp hip bone.
“Oh, babes,” he gasped. “I knew you weren’t a virgin. That was just Machyl talking rubbish again, wasn’t it?” He turned his face into the soft flesh of my pelvis, his voice muffled by my skin. “Oh, god, that was good.”
He kissed up the V in my abdomen until he reached my belly button and stuck his tongue in it.
I laughed. I actually laughed. I didn’t care any more.
He climbed up the bed and lay down next to me. I was still wearing my top and he still had his pants around his ankles. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on top of him to kiss me. I let him. He held my neck and slipped his tongue into my mouth.
Who cares any more.
I kissed him back and when I felt his hands roaming under my top and then spreading over my naked ass and thighs, settling them on either side of his waist, I deepened the kiss.
“Mmm,” he moaned, kissing my face. “You cleaned up before coming here, didn’t you? You were as clean as a whistle.”
I felt my cheeks get hot at his mention of my, um, intimate hygiene. I wasn’t exactly used to anyone even looking at my asshole, let alone—ugh. It might feel good, but it still made me squeamish to think about the details.
It was true, though. Once my phone lay on the chopping block in a shower of glass shards and bent metal, I had showered and taken, shall we say, special care with that side of things. Even though, to be honest, I was still pretty sore from yesterday.
He ran his hands over my shirt and pulled it over my head, then tipped me back onto his bed and ran his eyes over me. “I love how delicate you are,” he said.
My face was on fire now. I looked down at the bedsheets and twisted them in my fingers. I hadn’t thought about what would happen after, but if I had, I would have assumed that I would leave immediately, that Marcus would be too furious to want to look or talk to me, and would certainly not want to roll around in bed, kissing and looking at me.
“Look how shy you are now,” Marcus teased, poking my stomach.
I curled in on myself and batted his hand away.
“You’ve gone all coy,” Marcus laughed, poking my stomach again with both hands until I rolled away instinctively at the threat of being tickled. He didn’t let me, though, grabbing my arms and trying to get my hands above my head. I fought back with my legs and he got onto his knees.
“I won’t tickle,” he promised, but when I slackened my grip, he lunged at my stomach and dug his fingers into my ribs.
“Stop—” I gasped as the breath went out of me, squirming and kicking fiercely against his haunches, wherever I could reach. Marcus was as thin as a rake, but he still had forty pounds on me and pretty soon the threat made me go limp, wincing and just hoping he would stop.
His hands retracted and he sat back on the bed. He must have kicked off his pants because he was totally naked now. “Anthony?”
I looked up at him and remained there, frozen, my breathing shallow.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his expression spooked.
I could feel myself trembling and prayed for it to stop. I shook my head.
“I did something,” he said, the blood draining from his face.
I sat up slowly, aware that I was watching him warily the entire time. He reached out his hand and without realizing what I was doing, I flinched. My eyes darted toward the door, taking note of the inevitable fact that he was between me and it.
“B-babes?” He said, backing away from me to the end of the bed. “Y-you don’t like being tickled?”
I swallowed, hard. My heart was still pounding.
“Please tell me what I did,” he breathed. “So I can make amends. Please.”
I closed my eyes. “You’re twice my size,” I said, so quietly that I could barely hear it myself.
He blinked rapidly, then looked down. I could see a dull red flush spreading across his cheeks. “I—I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”
“I can’t fight you,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. The flush was spreading down his neck. “I’m so sorry.”
I was cold inside as I crawled off the bed and slowly started to put my clothes back on. He handed me my top and I pulled it on. I backed out of the bed area to the rug and put my shoes back on. He climbed off the bed as well and put his pants back on. When he came toward me, I backed away without realizing what I was doing.
He raised his hands. “I’m just going to the chest of drawers for a clean shirt,” he said, indicating the piece of furniture behind me.
I stood there with a cold hard lump in my stomach like a block of congealed magma.
When he was fully dressed again, he said, “Let’s have a cup of tea.”
I should leave. But I just nodded silently and went out of the bedroom with him following me.
“Come and sit down,” he said, overtaking me and going in to the kitchen.
He flipped the switch on the kettle on the counter and opened one of the cupboards, taking out a glass container of teabags, then another cupboard for mugs, taking a teaspoon from a drawer, then going to the fridge and taking out a jug of milk.
I watched him doing this while sitting at the table, my legs tightly together. I was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable in my nether regions. There was an ache left by the vigorous thrusting, and not just that. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, standing up.
“Er—of course,” he said, turning to me with a slightly chagrined look on his face. “There are face flannels in the bathroom.”
I knew what he meant by that—a washcloth. I was too embarrassed to reply. I slipped out of the kitchen and when I got into the bathroom, I couldn’t face using one of his washcloths for that, so I made do with toilet paper.
I—I wish I’d always had the same integrity as you.
I heard Damaris’ voice in my mind while I was washing my hands. I didn’t look in the mirror. She’s right, the voice said in my mind. I sighed. The voice was back. You used to have integrity, Anthony. You threw that out the window with your virginity.
I turned away, not wanting to think about any of this. Wanting the voice to shut up. What are you now? Just a whore.
I shut the bathroom door harder than I needed to.
A whore is what you become when you—
Shut up!
I stalked back into the kitchen to find a mug of milky tea sitting on the table across from Marcus, who was sipping from his own. I sat down and took a sip, because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Damaris was gone.
Now what?
“Anthony,” Marcus said, looking at me. I looked away from his gaze. “I’m really sorry I ignored your body language and your words. I— it didn’t occur to me that you would feel threatened by my size.”
I drank the hot tea, swallowed. It was a bit too hot and it burned as it went down. I winced and set the tea down.
“I promise I’ll never, ever do it again. I swear.”
I crossed my arms, feeling the shame spread through me.
“Do—do you believe me?” He asked.
The humiliation of being small and weak, of not being able to compete with other men, was just being reinforced by this conversation. This was what made Damaris not want me. This was what made it a jok
e that I liked women.
But I knew what compounded it. It was the fact that I embraced it. It was the fact that I wanted to be this way. That was what made me a laughingstock to gay men. How could I say that I was a man who liked men, if I rejected what it was that made a man a man?
“Why do you like me?” I said, hating myself for asking.
Marcus seemed struck dumb. He just sat there looking at his fingers resting on the kitchen table. Eventually he said, “You’re surprised that I’m attracted to you?”
“I don’t see why you would be,” I said, shrugging.
He frowned. “Why are you so down on yourself?”
“I’m not,” I protested. “It’s just true. There’s a reason why you see it in profiles. No femmes.”
He pursed his lips and sighed. “Life would be boring without variety, don’t you think?”
“Variety?” I repeated, taken aback.
“Well, yeah,” he said, with a crooked smile. “It would be boring if there was only one type of man. If musclebound gym rats were the only flavor in the smorgasbord.”
I stared at him in disgust. “So what are you saying, I’m there to satisfy your desire for variety in the smorgasbord of men that is your life?”
Of course that’s what you fucking are, Anthony, the voice said in my mind, and now it sounded strangely like Damaris’ voice.
“That’s not what I said,” Marcus said, frowning. “I’m attracted to you, Anthony. I don’t think I’ve made any secret of that.” His frown deepened. “I could ask the same question of you. Why do you like me?”
I don’t like you. I ran my fingertips over the hot, smooth ceramic of my mug.
“I think…” Marcus said. “A lot of people don’t want to admit they like femme guys.” He turned his mug around slowly on the table, looking at it intently. “But I do. And I’m—I’m well aware that I’m a femme, too.” He cleared his throat. “And I like it. And I like you. So,” he said finally. “There.”
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