Opportunity Knocking

I grimaced and began to pant as he entered me and entered me and entered me, long and thick, thicker and longer than Warren had been. I shook my head, wanting to forget about Warren for at least the next several minutes. Thinking only of Andy inside me and the two of us working together for mutual pleasure. I pressed the heels of my feet into the nap of the bear skin rug and jutted my hips up into his pelvis, taking him even deeper. He groaned and began to pant too. And then he moved—in, back; in, back—and I moved with him, using the leverage of my feet. In, back; in, back—picking up speed and vigor.

I wanted us to come together, even the first time. I took my cock in my hand and stroked to the rhythm of the fuck. In, back; in, back; inback; INBACK. Hold, tense, jerk. CLIMAX to a harmony of low cries.

"It will be better next time," he whispered in my ear.

"How could it be any better?" There would be a next time. My spirits soared.

"We'll last longer. I'm glad we came together, though, the first time."

"The next time?"

"In about fifteen minutes," he said. "No time even to leave you. That is, if you want—"

"Of course I want you again. No, don't leave me," I whimpered. And, indeed, I could feel him hardening again. I moaned as he began moving inside me once more. But then he stopped.

"What?" I asked, suddenly afraid.

"I want you every way," he whispered. "Shall we try—?"

"Yes, whatever you want; however you want it."

"I think like a dog. Let's see if I can turn you without . . . yes, I can." And he could. He was long and thick enough and reengorged enough to turn me on the cock without dislodging and put me under him on the rug, on my knees and elbows. He nuzzled my throat with his lips, and I groaned and began to pant again as he mounted and penetrated and moved on top and inside me. Would it be like this the whole night into Christmas Day?

Yes, it would. Christmas in Vermont. Home at last.