Latest gay adult stories: Connor’s Pretty Horny – Chapter 7.1
He loosened his pants and let them fall to the floor. He wore no underwear, which I – in that exact moment – discovered was a fetish of mine. We had sat and had coffee, had he planned for us to be here all along? His cock sprung immediately out, grazing my ass cheek. By now, he had taken my ankles and propped them against his shoulders. My ass was his, and to complete the harmony, I wanted his cock to be mine.
Alex, who had no sense of urgency in the least, must have felt the heat of my lust. He pressed the head of his steely, thick cock against my asshole. I savored that feeling. In porn, I would skip right to this scene. In my head, I called it “the moment of first contact” – that connection of cock and flesh made my face hot instantly.
“You want it, right, Connor?” He said, taking his hand away from my dick to rest it gently on my chest. He brought his face closer to mine, stressing my leg muscles to push them closer to my chest.
“Yes. Yes, I want it. Please.” I begged, biting my lip and grabbing his hand to place it back on top of my pulsing shaft. Then, he was there. Every inch of that slow moving cock was deliberate. Alex’s eyes never left my face, studying my reaction as he continued to push in. I had imagined this would be so hard, the first time at least. In his careful hands, that worry was gone.
He pushed, and in what felt like forever and yet no time at all, his dick was completely in my ass. That filling feeling was so fucking incredible I wanted to cum immediately. I wanted him to take my cock and jerk me until I came the biggest load of my life – but first, I wanted to watch that toned body fuck my ass.
“Please. Fuck me. Alex, please fuck me.” I whispered to him, looking him straight in those blue-green eyes. He needed to hold that certainty of my seriousness in his hands, because I knew if he couldn’t feel it, he’d go no further.
He slowly extricated myself, this time looking down at his cock and only occasionally back up to me. Alex’s focus slowly shifted from me to his own pleasure, but always stroking me gently too. As he fucked back into me, my toes curled. It was so much more than any toy. Watching his own ecstasy come alive as he really started to fuck me – like really started – was so fucking intoxicating. I almost came when he let out this low, animalistic groan, to the point of grabbing his wrist firmly to stop him from touching me.
Then, as a dancer might do as they move into the next movement, he changed everything. He had flipped me to my side and gotten into the bed behind me, taking my head firmly in his strong, thin hands and kissing me. His cock still planted inside of my ass, fucking me gently as we kissed and his other hand returned to the tight “O” I had been slamming into.
“This is-” He panted, pulling his tongue out of my mouth, “-So fucking hot.” That last syllable was punctuated by another deep moan before he started pistoning my ass. I bit down on the edge of his pillowcase, no part of me even tempted to call it off.
My ass was his. His cock was mine. It was like that for these long, tired minutes of powerful pounding before he took his cock out and began violently jerking it. His other hand, in conjunction with my own, was tightly wrapped around my own dick.
The impossible became reality as he shot a huge load across my ass, stomach, and bedspread. A few more seconds, and my own dick tightened, strained, and exploded. Our cum pooled together across my taut stomach as he collapsed back against the pillow. Like a suddenly abandoned marionette, I went limp too, my limbs now completely powerless.
The room froze in time. Dust particles in the single few rays of sunlight left of the day were suspended. The slight draft under Alex’s door stopped leaking air. There was nothing now, for a few minutes, and there was a little bit of everything too: all that dark red passion, corked and left to age.
With David, I had been on high-alert, not even to mention being ushered out every time we’d met up. Clearly, we were having sex, not hanging out. With Alex, I was more than content to lazily drift in and out of a nap afterwards. He played big spoon in a small bed, and even with deliberate effort, I couldn’t wipe a stupid grin off my face. A stupid, little boy grin like I’d just lit a firecracker.
I heard Alex’s soft voice, his breath passing right over my ear. “I’m not kicking you out, but…” ]
“But you’re kicking me out.” I responded, jokingly. All good things did have to come to an end, after all. Plus, no doubt Alex controlled a busy social calendar.
“Let’s do this again sometime, though?” He said, his tone rising in hopefulness.
“Any time.” I huffed, pulling myself to sit on the edge of his bed and grabbing my pants from the floor. He graciously picked up my clothes and handed them to me, even digging a stick of gum out of a drawer. As quickly as it had all begun, I was back on his porch again, feeling unsure what to do next as he held the screen propped open.
“Well. I’ll see you around, I guess.” I said, shrugging my shoulders and making to head down the short stairs.
Alex grabbed my arm and unexpectedly gave me a light peck on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, Connor.” With all the attendant dizziness that he had just smacked me with, I stumbled on down the steps.
When I reached the end of the walk, even though everything in me said not to be “that guy,” I couldn’t help but steal a glance back. There was Alex, leaning against the door frame, watching me leave. Spread across his face was the smallest, most subtle smile I’d ever seen – the same one he had given me at Pine Drive. The same smile that had led me back to him like this.
—
That night, as I lay in bed, soft white moonlight poured in from the window above my dorm bed. As I stared up at that gray orb, I remembered a quote from a book I had read in highschool once, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. The details of it had slipped out of my head, but one line rang clearly in my head that night. With a slight name substitution, it seemed to fit perfectly.
“Alex—one can imagine him lasting forever.”
There was something about him that was so seamlessly natural that he seemed almost otherworldly. He was transcendent in his own way. Rand had been musing about how we all chase permanence and to be remembered. Alex seemed either blissfully unaware of this human pursuit, or had already so squarely achieved it as to seem that way.
That brilliant white harvest moon was Alex. Whatever might happen, I would look skyward and think of him.
——————–
Parent Post: Connor’s Pretty Horny – Author: connorwitmer
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 2.1
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 2.2
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 3
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 4
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 5
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 6
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 7
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 7.1
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 8
- Connor's Pretty Horny - Chapter 8.1