Punk
I was in heaven.
The way he fucked was relentless, constant, athletic motion. First we were on the bed, then on the floor. Next he sat on the nightstand after knocking everything to the floor, with me on his lap. I got an up-close-and-personal example of how incredible his upper body strength was when he held me by the hips and lifted me up and down on his dick.
That was quite relaxing. I didn't have to do a fucking thing, so I wrapped my arms around his neck, nestled my head into his shoulder, then pretended to snore my head off.
He went fucking crazy.
One moment I was sitting up; the next I was over his knee, dick pressed hard against his thighs, head hanging upside down. He spanked me once like he really, really meant it, then stopped and rubbed my ass. I was about to complain when he shoved me off and told me I was in real trouble.
When I got up from the floor, my perv was stretched across Jake's bed, looking, it has to be said, like somewhat of a sex god. He palmed his dick, pulled off the rubber, and told me he was done. If I wasn't interested in at least attempting to stay awake, he might as well jack off.
At least he knew that would be good.
Fucking me was like watching paint dry.
It was like he was trying to punish me with words.
I watched for a moment as he played with his balls, pulling at them, cupping them, giving them a squeeze, and I had to swallow hard. Then he trailed his fingers up his lovely, long cock until he got to his piercing. I was torn. I could look at him play with his metal work, or stare into his eyes. He gazed right at me, looking so fucking gorgeous, then told me that it was all mine. I just had to put some effort in.
When he ran one hand up to his chest and twisted his barbell, I had to stop myself from drooling.
I didn't think; I just rubbered him up again, slapped on some lube and hopped on, telling him that I was just messing with him, and that I really, really liked it.
His smile made playing by his rules completely worth it.
For a while.