Per Anum Ch. 01: Midnight Kiss

With his limbs wrapped around me and my cock buried to the root inside him, it was easy to roll sideways onto the bed and take him with me. I landed flat on my back with Greg atop me, and he adapted at once. Greg planted his feet on the bed, braced his hands on my pecs and flexed his thighs, taking over the motion of the fuck without a pause. I slid my hands up his legs, caressing the smooth, warm skin, and took hold of his hips to help maintain his balance. With my hands in place, I could even help pull him down harder. I'm sure my grip was punishing--I'd be surprised if we didn't both have some bruises in the morning--but I didn't care.

Greg's cock, now all but pouring precum, bounced between us with the momentum. With each revolution it slapped against his abs and then struck mine, leaving trails of liquid stretched hair-fine between us, tying us together. I could only stare up at him, the picture of man lost in pleasure, gorgeous and relentless and desperate. Greg's eyes were half-closed, unfocused, his head lolling on his shoulders as he rode me with furious abandon. I soon realized that I may have made a mistake; far from helping to drag things out, watching the sinuous strength of his lean body as he rode me was actually making things worse. The way one of his thumbs was toying with my nipple was not helping either. How he had the presence of mind to do that while madly fucking himself on me I cannot imagine.

Finally it was too much. I'd been teetering on the edge since practically the moment I entered him, and that building anticipation, the roller coaster approaching the highest peak, started its inevitable, ecstatic descent. I could feel it boiling up inside me, a hairsbreadth from spilling over into mind-shattering reality, and I wanted Greg to plummet with me.

I released one hand from his hip and seized his cock. Using the copious precum for lubrication, I squeezed and stroked him, and immediately knew that I'd been right to avoid touching him earlier. Instantly, Greg's whole body went rigid. With a roar, he slammed himself onto me, screwing his hips as far down as he could. His back arched, every muscle in his body standing out in relief as his cock pulsed in my hand and sprayed jet after jet of semen across my chest and even my face.

I hardly noticed. His final, furious motion to bury my cock inside him, the iron clench of his body around me as he hit his climax was the last straw. My cry of release melded with his as the dam broke inside me, pleasure bursting from my balls and washing me away. I was distantly aware of my cock pumping my load inside him, but the waves of orgasm crashing over me made all else seem faint and irrelevant.

A moment, or a minute, or possibly a while later, we came back to ourselves. Somehow, we were lying side by side on my bed, his head on my shoulder and my arm around him. No idea how that happened. Sweat (and other fluids) cooled on our skin as our panting breath slowed back to something more normal. The silence stretched, though it was companionable, not awkward. Finally, Greg turned his head to look up at me.

"We can't tell Angela about this. She'll be insufferable."

I snorted a laugh. "Agreed. The smugness would expand exponentially until the whole world drowned in her self-satisfaction."

He nodded seriously, eyes twinkling. "It's our duty, really. For the sake of the world."

I turned a bit so I could kiss him, slow and languid. "That being said," I murmured into his mouth, "at the moment I'm less concerned about her satisfaction than mine." I kissed him again, more hungrily this time, and rolled onto him, covering his body with my own.

Midnight Makeout was, perhaps, not the worst tradition after all.