Graham evidently read my acceptance, because he pressed the final question. “So? You gonna let me show you what it’s like just to feel, without fighting? You gonna let me show him?”
Avery was looking up at me with almost comical eagerness, so I granted him a faint smile and a quick kiss, then I gazed deliberately into his hopeful face as I replied, “Yes, Captain Lansing.”
My husband practically swooned, and his hips ground against my embedded organ. “First of all, I think there should be a lot more fucking right now,” he commented somewhat breathlessly.
“That’s not up to me, is it?” I reminded him, more playful in the wake of reframing this exercise.
Graham’s hand trailed back up my spinal column. “That was my original instruction, Julian. So go ahead. Just pace yourself.”
I resumed the steady thrusts I knew Avery was waiting for. My erection hadn’t lost any steam during the detour — that was rather the problem in the first place — and the renewed friction was a visceral reminder that this evening would end with me just as hard as I was now. But I took the advice I used to give my husband when he struggled to accept stimulation without release: I focused on the pleasure I was feeling in the present, not the denial I would be subjected to in the future, and in that way I could enjoy Avery’s tight channel like I always did.
He was enjoying me just as much, lips parted in excitement and hands roaming my flesh wherever he could reach: neck, biceps, chest.
Graham’s hand was more focused, following the path of my vertebrae nearly to my buttocks, but always reversing directions in time.
“You’re really quite the impressive specimen, Major Demos,” he told me, a blend of fondness and provocation. “It’s a great honor to have you at my command.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer, but when his hand melted to just one digit tracing slowly down my backbone, I forgot whatever response I might have been forming. That time he didn’t stop until the pad of his finger had nestled just where my cleft began.
He stayed there, lightly stimulating that spot where a cluster of nerve endings converged: not exactly invading my crack, but definitely in the erogenous zone. I continued moving inside Avery, but Graham’s finger stayed lodged in that no-man’s-land, somehow making me feel more owned than if he’d gone directly for my back entrance. In my current position, there would be nothing to stop him from venturing further.
Avery couldn’t really see what was happening behind me, but when a low sound escaped me, he was immediately curious.
“What?” he asked, his face not far below mine.
Graham answered before I could decide on one. “Tell Avery what I’m doing to you,” he commanded in the smoky, authoritative tone he more commonly used on my husband.
I recognized this game, and I could imagine how much Avery was going to be into it. “He’s…touching that place you love,” I confessed. “At the tailbone.”
The information was clearly of interest, and he knew exactly where I meant. “Touching it how?”
I kept pistoning into him, as if that would get me away from Graham’s fingertip. “The way I do, when I play with you. Brushing softly, just at the top where it’s sensitive.”
“Oh god.” Avery arched against my granite-hard member. “I wish I could see.” He pulled my mouth down and kissed me passionately.
Graham hadn’t moved from that singularly arousing location when suddenly he gave new instructions. “Stop thrusting, Julian. Stay all the way inside him, but don’t move again until I give you permission.”
Fuck. It was alarmingly difficult to comply, and I think Avery and I groaned at the same time. Because now he was being deprived just as much as I was.
“Good,” the captain affirmed when I was motionless except for my too-fast respirations. Then he traced down my crack until he reached my asshole.
I took in a sharp breath, and I’m sure Avery felt me jump inside him, but I tensed my muscles and obeyed — neither protecting myself nor relieving my aching organ.
Graham’s finger disappeared for a moment, and I heard him opening the bottle of oil. When he touched me again, it was to rub frictionless against my pucker, an inexplicably reactive place given its normal function.
I suppressed another moan, but his sexy voice prompted again, “Tell Avery.”
“What’s he doing?” my husband asked, eager for the answer even though he could surely guess.
“He’s — rubbing my hole,” I narrated self-consciously. “With one fingertip. Just the outside.”
I could feel the heat radiating from Avery’s neglected erection. “Teasing it?” he asked, staring up into my eyes.
“Very much…” I admitted. There was something intriguing about sharing this experience so intimately with my partner, our bodies interlocked while our lover toyed with my sensitive spots.
“You want him to finger you?” Avery pressed.
The gentle stimulation at my back door didn’t let up, and I had to force myself not to squirm. “Yes,” I whispered. “But mostly, I really want to fuck you.”
“I really want you to fuck me too,” he said, low and husky. He gave my cock a tight squeeze but maintained his discipline otherwise. “It’s so damn hot that he’s making you stay inside but not letting you move.”
Graham’s digit breached my hole, seeking up my passage, and my shaft twitched again. “Yeah…it is.”
I started to relax when the intruder reached my interior gland, but nothing else happened. No pressing, no rubbing, no massage. Just the constant suggestion without any satisfaction. God, the fact that he wasn’t pleasuring me made me pulse more than if he would have.
I knew I would be required to disclose the torment to my husband, and…I knew it would please him if I did. “He put one finger inside me,” I breathed unsteadily. “Over my prostate.”
“Rubbing it?” Avery seemed enthralled by this live-action porno our boyfriend was writing, directing, and starring in. To be honest, I was getting pretty wrapped up in my role as well.
“No.” My tool spasmed inside its torture chamber again. “Just…resting on it.”
He groaned wordlessly, then appealed to our captor. “Graham, please — will you touch me? Or let Julian?”
The captain’s other hand reached between us for Avery’s straining length, but after only a few strokes, he let go again. “Patience, little one. Want you to stay needy, so your husband stays needy.”
“Fuck!” the man beneath me exclaimed, gripping my arms so tight it was almost painful.
“Julian can play with your nipples if he wants, though,” Graham allowed.
“Like that’s going to help!” Avery complained, but when I adjusted my position and reached for one experimentally, his moan was ecstatic. Provoking his nipples was one of my favorite pastimes, so even though it only made the craving in my balls worse, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
I felt a second finger push past my sphincter, and finally there was stimulation where I truly wanted it, but the way Graham was doing it — like I did to my partner when my only goal was to make him beg to be fucked — had my helpless shaft throbbing in moments.
There was nowhere to channel the surge of hunger, so I bent to Avery’s mouth and kissed him urgently. He met me with just as much force, welcoming my tongue and giving me his.