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He assumed his original position, fucking me as before. I closed my eyes, concentrating upon the sensations of his cock as it lunged and plunged within the circle of my impaled asshole. My body shifted and bounced upon the mattress. Each thrust of his erection into my bottom excited me anew, and I knew I was fast approaching orgasm and ejaculation.
He fucked me effortlessly, as if he were an athlete knocking off a few hundred push-ups. Plunge, retreat, lunge, withdraw, thrust, retire—over and over, he rammed me, and, each time, I enjoyed it more. Was I falling in love with him, a man I'd met just yesterday? Perhaps I was! He was everything I'd ever wanted in a man.
I felt my prick twitch and spasm. Semen erupted, spurting against the sheet, and I felt the warmth of my trapped seed, sticky, against my groin. I had come, but Mr. Porter continued to fuck me, moving at his same measured, unhurried pace, his movement fluid and easy. The man was as indefatigable as a machine! What stamina! Fuck me! I thought. Fuck me hard, all night long!
Finally, I felt him tremble all down his body, as he gasped. Shoving his cock into me until there wasn't another fraction of an inch left to shove, he stiffened. He moaned, and I felt him shudder as he emptied his semen into the deepest recesses of my bowels. He stayed inside me, grinding his pubes roughly and forcefully against my buttocks. When he withdrew, I felt his semen-slick cock leave my bottom, and I felt immensely saddened by the feeling of emptiness; it was a loss, and I was grieved. A final burst of semen splattered my buttocks. It was as if he'd branded me with the essence of his masculinity.
He rolled off me, and we slept.
In the morning, Mr. Porter ordered breakfast for us. After the room service attendant left, we dined, naked, on his balcony, watching the waves roll in upon the sand and the gulls wheel against the cloudless azure sky. Then, we went back to bed and made love—or, rather, Mr. Porter ravished me, with my consent, of course.
"Have you considered my proposal?" he asked, as we basked in the afterglow.
I smiled. "I'm happy to accept your offer, Mr. Porter."
"That's good, Lane, very good, indeed. Maybe you can use your skills as a journalist to write a few gay romance novels for AltRom in addition to your duties as my VP in charge of publicity."
"I'd like that, sir."
"I'm glad to have you. You'll make a fine partner someday, and you've already proved you're a fantastic fuck!"
