“Oh, Graham,” my lover moaned, but it definitely wasn’t a complaint. “That’s so intense…”
“Tell me about it.” My own voice was rough with excitement and need. “God you’re tight, every time I open you. You feel incredible.”
For a minute I punched just my tip rapidly into his canal, concentrating all the friction on the reactive rings of muscle guarding his back door.
“Fuck –” Julian’s fists were clenched where I’d bound them above his head, and I wondered if now it wasn’t because he wanted to stop me, but because he needed contact somewhere he couldn’t reach.
I changed positions, lowering my weight onto his back and gripping his shoulders, further limiting his physical mobility. I used my well-developed abs and glutes to piston my cock in fast and deep while sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and beneath his raised arms. I didn’t specifically aim for anything besides my own enjoyment, but I could tell his prostate was seeing plenty of action. It wasn’t long before his pelvis broke ranks and ground against the bed.
“Getting a little hot and bothered under there?” I smoldered beside his ear. My breaths were coming hard, both from my exertions and from the decadent fire I was building in my own loins. “You like being strapped down and ridden roughshod?”
He relinquished another helpless groan. “God…please,” were the only words he managed while I was stabbing him so forcibly.
I stopped, leaving myself fully implanted. “Please what?”
Unlike his spouse, Julian was not good at begging. He hated admitting he truly needed anything — in bed or out of it. That was probably most of the reason this scene was necessary in the first place. With my shaft stationary, he made a futile attempt to get some satisfaction from the towel beneath his hips, but he couldn’t lift me enough to gain any traction, so he gave up. Nothing moved for a minute except his ribs expanding and contracting in shallow cycles.
“You want something, Major?” I prompted.
He lifted his head and sought over his shoulder for me, so I withdrew enough that I could lean up and take his mouth. The kiss proved more eloquent than anything he might have said — desperate and breathless and feverish, which turned my furnace up to blazing. I was badly tempted to pound him until I exploded right then, and deal with the rest afterward. But this lesson wasn’t over yet.
“I’m so damn hard,” he murmured against my lips, much more like a confession than a statement of fact.
“Yeah?” I kissed a rivulet of sweat from his temple. “Think I should do something about that?”
He breathed with me for another moment. “Will you?”
“Absolutely. Let me untie your arms from the frame, so I can get to you.”
I got up, found the quick-release hitch I’d made around the headboard, and unfastened it. That left Julian’s wrists still tied together, but now he could raise up on his elbows and crawl backwards until his ass lifted into the air above his knees. I retied his tether, making sure he still wouldn’t be able to undo the knot or alleviate himself. The sight of him bound in that subservient pose had me plunging back in as soon as possible.
Once more I grabbed the lube and slicked my hand, then I reached underneath to his jutting erection. It was incredibly swollen, and he moaned when my fingers slid along his length. His balls were already drawn up in preparation for orgasm.
“You’re not to come until I give you permission,” I commanded, one hand at his hip for leverage and the other pulling on his oiled shaft. “I expect you to warn me if you get too close.”
There was an anguished exhale but no argument. I massaged myself in his back passage while I jerked him, building heavenly friction for both of us. But just as I heard him start to tell me he’d reached the combustion point, I stilled in his ass and switched to stroking his swollen scrotum.
He grunted and bucked a little at the loss of stimulation, but he didn’t say anything. I kept my fingers where they were, teasing his drawn-up testicles until I felt the opportunity for release pass.
When I determined he was ready, I grasped his cock and started working it again, twisting slightly against his glans. I could feel him throbbing in my fist, and I was just about as bad off, but I kept myself buried so I could focus on him.
I didn’t need his warning to know when he got there — I could feel the tension ratchet and his core muscles start to contract around me. I let him go again, which seemed less surprising but more frustrating for him the second time. Still, he didn’t comment. He just dropped his head to his arms and sucked oxygen while his orgasm slipped away.
I made Julian wait a while for more contact, fucking him instead and pressing his magic button on every stroke. He was starting to make low, rhythmic sounds when my hand closed around his shaft for the third time.
“Graham –” he groaned, no longer trusting the pleasure, anticipating that I was about to snatch it cruelly away at the last moment.
Which I did, eliciting a deliciously dissatisfied shudder. This time when I resumed thrusting, I found his nipple with my slippery fingers and gave it the tantalizing attention he craved between his legs. He gasped at the first touch, then lapsed into helpless panting.
He knew what was coming the next time I paused with my cock still stuffing his ass and made a fist around his glans. His muscles went taut, as if he could somehow prevent me from taking him to that tormenting edge again.
“How much longer?” he implored while I gave him soft, slow strokes that would barely be tolerable in his hyper-aroused state.
I shifted into a wicked, knowing tone and kept my hand moving on his rigid length. “How much longer am I going to edge you? How many times am I going to bring you to the verge of release and leave you stranded? I don’t know, Julian — there’s no rule that says I have to allow you an orgasm at all. I can keep this going until midnight if I want.”
The thought of being denied repeatedly for the next hour straight seemed to spike his need. “I’m — close,” his laboring lungs yelped, and even though I knew he was telling the truth, I gave him a couple of extra strokes, forcing him to fight back his own climax before leaving him thrusting against empty air again.
Suddenly, with a loud guttural sound, Avery maxed out, apparently unable to withstand my display of erotic control for more than four rounds. When I looked over, he was furiously pumping his cock, producing thick gobs of spunk.
I kept Julian pinned on my rod, not thrusting but still pressing against his inner gland. He could withstand a lot, and until I breached that limit, he wouldn’t be submitting — only enduring.
“You need that too, don’t you,” I murmured. “Worse every time I deny you.” My fingers found his glans, sliding tantalizingly in the oil, barely giving him any friction. “You’re aching for it: your balls so heavy and tight, your cock so swollen and sensitive, your prostate pulsing. Yet you can’t — quite — have it.” I punctuated those last few words with deliberate touches to the electric node at his frenulum.