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A blurry eyed bystander may think Court’s not that into it. Slightly zoned out even. He's pretty much silent, eyes focused, breaths coming even and measured. His movements are rhythmic, controlled and consistent. He looks like he's on autopilot.
Blurry eyed I might be, a bystander I am not. I'm in a unique position to observe the situation and my determination is as follows:
He absolutely fucking is into it. His pupils are so blown you’d think he's high out of his mind and it's very hot, thank you very much. He's breathing through his mouth and there’s an uncharacteristic slackness to his jaw. He is pretty much silent. If you're not listening carefully. He might be breathing regularly but there's a tremor to it, tightening every exhale into a barely audible ah. It's so goddamn sexy.
Aside from all of that, I know for a fact he's not on autopilot because he does not have an autopilot-mode to fall back on. He's new to this. ‘Untrained’, as he jokingly calls himself. This is training.
A while ago he shared with me how a lot of things get easier for him if he tricks himself into thinking of it as an objective. Apparently he does it quite often. ‘Current objective, get through this social interaction,’ he named as an example. It made me laugh at the time and it's been a running joke between us ever since. It really does work for him though, and now I'm seeing the effectiveness of his little trick for myself.
I can't help but wonder what the objective is right now. He looks laser focused and way beyond simply ‘determined.’ It's a very good look on him. This is very fucking good in general. The whole thing is kind of overwhelming, I feel myself getting lightheaded and I take a second to really breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
And out again.
The room feels stiflingly hot and we're both breathing hard, chests heaving and sweating buckets. The sheets are damp to the touch and they're going to need to be changed. Maybe burned. It's not important right now.
Shuffling a little, I change the angle slightly and it works. It's easier on me and better for him, I’ve been watching him and I can tell. The long stretch of his body looks incredible like this and I can't help but move a little faster, a little harder. He's not a small man but he looks small right now. Vulnerable in a way that makes my head swim.
He's crying, tears leaving messy tracks down his face. He told me he probably would and I expected it to be more distressing to see. It's not. I just feel a sick urge to make him cry harder.
Sticking with the pace I've set, I desperately try to keep my thoughts together. If I let them drift I'm going to lose my focus. If I lose my focus this is going to be over way too quickly and I don't want this to end, I don't want to stop.
I have an objective. Thinking like that has always made it easier to push myself. I'm pushing with everything I have right now. Keeping it together has never been harder than it is at this moment.
Keep breathing.
You have an objective.
Make it good.
I'm going to make it good.
Make him cum.
Make it good. I repeat it to myself like a mantra but even that is becoming difficult. Make it good. But fuck, he feels good. This is good, it's is so fucking good. He's moaning, babbling my name and I have to white knuckle my composure at the sound of it.
“Court, Court, Court,” over and over again. I can hardly think through the fog so I just tell him I've got him. I've got you, you're okay, I've got you. I watch his pecs bounce with the force of my thrusts and another hot flash washes over me. This is obscene. Depictions of people in this state used to gross me out a little, but him? This? If I could live in this moment I would. If I had a cockring maybe I actually could. As the situation stands right now, I will not be able to.
He’s so hot inside. He's hot and tight and so incredibly wet. I can feel where our skin sticks together with every slap of my hips into his and it's overwhelming. He's leaking so much and the slick sound of his cunt is the most erotic fucking thing I've ever heard. I'm losing it. I've been losing it. I need to make him cum before I do.
Looking down at where I'm rutting into him I tilt his hips up, forcing his back to arch until I see my pelvic bone press into his dick every time I bottom out. I immediately come face to face with my miscalculation as he spasm under me with a groan and, fuck, I’m not gonna last like this. His hands find my biceps and he digs his nails in, whining desperate little ah- ah- ah-’s as he clenches down hard. I feel feverish. I need to breathe. I need to fucking cum. I need to keep it together. Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
And out again.
The sound of wet skin on wet skin would be obnoxious in any other scenario but between these walls it's not. It's just us and in a filthy kind of way the noise only makes it better. We lock eyes briefly and just stare, bodies moving uninterrupted while we look at each other. It's a strangely tender moment in the middle of some very intense sex and I feel my eyes well up all over again.
Tears and sweat slide down my face and I’m glad my glasses have been abandoned elsewhere. I can't even lie, he's the best I've ever had. He's kind of incredible. I know he's watching me, closely, and I know my every move is being noted. If he does something that makes me moan even a little bit louder or clench down a little bit harder he’ll notice and he will double down on it. It's overwhelming in a way I've never even remotely experienced before.
Don't get it twisted, I've had sex before. Plenty of it. Sex is fun. Sex is generally pretty good. I knew sex with Court would go just fine because he's a good and kind guy, he's incredibly sexy, I love him and he's got a fat dick to top it all off. Bring it on. I failed to factor in his capacity for single minded focus and his dedication to getting a job done right. In hindsight, all those things put together shine a big fat spotlight on a glaring oversight on my end.
He doesn't know what I look like when I cum. How can he? I didn't give him a play by play. This is the first time we’re having sex. His first time ever having sex. It's really no wonder he can't tell. I've been told it's really hard to tell. There's a popular idea of what an orgasm is supposed to look like and it's just not me.
My body doesn’t seize or lock up and there's rarely any kind of rhythmic clenching. While I do sound different you need to be very familiar with what I usually sound like to even pick up on it. I start loud and I stay loud, I writhe all over the place orgasming or not and while I might know I'm having one, sweet, single minded, ‘untrained’ Court does not. He's not seeing what he thinks he should see and thus the mission continues.
Point being, I’ve been cumming my brains out and he hasn't noticed. I really, truly, knew I was in trouble when the first one started to fade into overstimulation and he just didn’t stop. Didn’t adjust his grip on my hips, didn’t pause or slow down. He probably just thought I was loud as hell because I was getting closer to an orgasm. I was too fucked out to tell him, and it was too good for me to even want him to stop.
It's so fucking good but it's so much. I’m shaking through another comedown, attempting to tilt my hips up and away but it’s like he doesn’t even register it. Of course he doesn't. I've been squirmy since we started and he's been holding me in place without much thought or effort the whole time.
Of course he’s not going to magically ease up now, everything about me screams I'm having the time of my life and he's still trying to make me cum. Shit, he's really strong. It's half-assed but still, I'm fighting his hold on me and I'm not getting anywhere.
I know he'd stop in a heartbeat if I told him to. I don't want him to though. I want this so bad. I'm truly not all that interested in escaping. Surrendering myself to him, the overstimulation and to the overwhelming pleasure kind of sounds like an amazing idea right now. He's got me. I'm okay.
The sheets are everywhere as he's sitting on his heels in the middle of the bed, my hips cradled in his lap. He's holding on to my waist and my own hands are white knuckled around his biceps. My ankles are crossed behind his back and his grip on me is solid, bodily pulling me into every snap of his hips.
God, I hope the neighbors aren't home. I'm hardly registering the sounds I'm making, but I know they're filthy. Court squeezes me and reminds me to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
And out again.
We're really going to need a shower once this is over. Our bodies are slick and sticky, and we’re both covered in all sorts of marks. They sting, but it's a really nice visual.
He looks so good like this. The sheen of sweat on his body kind of makes him look like he's glowing. He's dazed and out of it, looking at me with a kind of trust and adoration that makes my chest feel tight. I hold his gaze for a bit before looking away and to where I'm holding on, his skin is indented by my fingers and I can't help but dig them in a little harder.
This angle might do it. His fingers are starting to go lax, barely holding on to my arms and all strength seems to bleed out of his body. I can feel him throbbing around me. His head drops back into the pillows and every roll of my hips prompts new and louder noises. I plead with some higher power to please just let me cum. I want to cum so fucking bad but I want to make him cum more. I have an objective. I’m going to complete it.
He's bearing down on me like a vice and it's genuinely getting hard to pull out. Pulling his hips close, I switch to just grinding in as deep as I can. He jolts like he's been shot and his legs tremble where they're wrapped around my waist.
I can't help but be a little proud of myself. I think I'm doing good for a first timer. I'd hoped I would, but I wasn't genuinely expecting it.
I also never expected sex could be like this. Mostly because I've also never considered sex to be that big of a deal. I'm no stranger to my own hand so I figured I'd probably enjoy it, but being inexperienced never bothered me. I never saw ‘37 year old virgin' as the insult it was clearly meant to be. Many people seemed to think I was missing out but I can't say I’ve felt that for myself. I've always just thought sex could be fun if nothing else, and if I got the chance I'd give it a shot.
Sex is more than just fun. I can honestly say I'd never even considered the possibility that sex might be this good. It might just be because of him though. I've never been high but I think this is what it must be like. He's an absolute wreck and the fact that I did that goes straight to my head. I'm doing this, I'm making him feel like this. I'm making him cry with how good it is, I'm making his eyes roll back in his head and I'm going to make him cum. Me. No one else. Some selfish and unrealistic part of me wants to be the best he's ever had. The only one he's ever going to have from now on.
I can feel myself getting closer and I mourn the fact this’ll have to end at some point. Some point soon. I really don’t want it to. I don't think I'll ever get over how good this is, how much I love him. I love him, I love this, I love that he trusts me to the point of letting me have him like this. It's so fucking good. God, I feel like I can't get enough air in my lungs. I have an objective. Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
And out again.
It's a little quieter now, the slap of skin on skin replaced by the slick squelch of a deep grind. It should really be gross. It's kind of humiliating. It just makes me wetter.
He's so good. I know it's true but I genuinely cannot reconcile my current situation with the fact I'm taking his virginity. Someone needs to either study this man or diagnose him with something. I might give the former a try. It's just so fucking good. I don't want this to stop. The overstimulation has lost its sharpness again, fading into a kind of tender feeling that just leaves me more sensitive.
He's big. It's an objective fact I can't begin to ignore and it's slowly driving all rational thinking from my brain. He's leaning over me now, he's big and I feel the drag with every filthy grind. I can't help but think about the next time we do this. It's not like I mind being the center of attention, I love it, but I kind of need the next time to be about him.
Court’s clearly having a perfectly good time, but next time I want him to do this for himself. I need him to fuck me without restraint, I need him to force me face down, ass up and pin me with a hand on the back of my neck. I need him to use me for his own pleasure until he's drunk on it, as drunk as I am right now. Imagining it throws me into another orgasm and I whimper as it rolls over me in waves.
He doesn't stop. If anything it just spurs him on, encouraged by my escalating moans. My back arches and it just drives his cock further into that perfect spot, making me cum harder. He doesn't notice the orgasm. He does my reaction to the changed angle.
To my horror, he wedges a forearm under my lower back and pushes down on my abdomen with his free hand, trapping me in a deep arch. Nowhere to go. Nothing I can do but take it. Fuck. Every roll of his hips sends sparks racing up my spine and I distantly realise I'm really crying now. Tears drip into my hairline and my chest shakes. I don't even know if it's moans, hiccups or sobs. It's so fucking good. Court tenses and I can tell he's worried. I need to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
And out again.
He's probably fine. He’s still relaxed, limp body held in position by my grip alone and aside from the tears there are no other signs of distress. I still need to be sure. I need to know, know if this is still okay.
“You alright?” My voice seems to breathe new life into him, the hands loosely holding onto my arms clench down with a vengeance, nails catching behind the scar that trails down one of them. It hurts. It's a good kind of pain. I've eased up a little bit but he's still just as loud, hiccuping between moans and whimpers.
Teary eyes lock onto mine and he nods frantically, voice catching in his throat as he tries to say something. It breaks and trails off in a long whine. He tries again and it's nearly unintelligible. I catch it though.
It's my name. He's trying to say my name. Trying and failing because he's so out of it he can't. I'm fucking him so good he can't even muster up the coherence to say my name.
Something in me snaps. I need him to cum. Right now. I need to feel him cum on my cock, need to see him come apart. I need him to cum and I need to cum. I need it like I need air. Sliding my free hand further down his abdomen, I trail my fingers through the mess between his legs. He shivers when I brush across his dick and I feel like an addict with how badly I want more.
I swirl a finger over the tip and I'm immediately rewarded for it as he moans brokenly, head slamming back onto the bed. Tendons stand out on his neck and I want to bite. I want to break him. I’m going to. Leaning back for better access, I copy what I saw him do earlier tonight. Sliding my pointer and middle finger down on either side of his dick, I squeeze slightly and rub firm circles over the head with my thumb. The result is immediate and explosive. It's exactly what I want.
Shouting wordlessly, his body locks up tight, heels digging into my back and forcing me in close. Our hips are flush and he holds me there, pressed in deep as I feel him start to cum, rippling and clenching around me. My heart pounds and I have to fight to stop my fingers from shaking as I work him over. He's loud, keening and crying out over and over as he claws marks down my biceps. Wetness drips down between us and all the air in my lungs rushes from me with a quiet oh fuck when I realise he’s squirting, every flick of my thumb forcing out weak spurts. He's a fucking vision.
I only get to watch him for a moment before my own orgasm crashes over me all at once. There's a vague ringing in my ears as my body jerks, hips snapping forwards in an attempt to bury myself even deeper. Ryland chokes on a moan and jerks his head up at me, immediately piecing it together and whimpering high in his throat, squeezing his legs around me with renewed force. He watches as I hunch over, twitching and shaking with the intensity. There's nowhere to go with how tightly he's crushing us together, and all I can do is sit and silently lose my mind over the feeling of his cunt clenching around me while I cum inside him. Inside. Fuck.
It feels like it goes on forever and I’m still drinking him in, committing this to memory when he finally starts going limp. His legs slowly slide off my hips and I wiggle my arm out from under him, resting both hands on his thighs. We just sit there for a second, both of us content to savor the moment while we catch our breaths and come back down to earth. I watch the last little bits of tension bleed from him as I rub my fingers into his thighs, kneading at the undoubtedly sore muscles.
No matter how much I’d love to just flop down onto him and stay like that, we can't sleep in these sheets. We really, really can't. I squeeze him a little, getting his attention.
“I'm gonna pull out now, okay?” He just nods, spreading his legs wider with a deeply content look on his face. I take care to go slow, to be gentle and I can't help but look while I do, intending to enjoy the view for one last time today. I'm struck completely stupid by the sight.
He’s an absolute mess, his entire pelvic area is soaking wet and slightly pink, blood drawn to the surface by the repeated slap of skin on skin. His cunt looks puffy, flushed nearly red and it almost looks used. The white leaking out of him stands out obscenely and I'm reaching for it before I realise what I'm doing.
Some absurd urge leads me to drag my fingers through it, gathering some of the mess before dipping two of them in. They sink in deeper than I intended and I'm fascinated by how pliant and relaxed he is, well and truly fucked out.
I'm still deep in thought, luxuriating in the feeling of him around my fingers when Ryland clears his throat and digs a heel into my ass.
“I get that you’re obsessed with your first creampie, but you also just blew my back out and I'm kinda oversensitive right now.” There's a teasing kind of fondness in his tone that makes my face flush instantly and I gently remove my fingers, wiping them on the already ruined sheets. I'm halfway through mumbling an apology when he nudges me again. “Speaking of, why am I this wet? Did you cum more than once or something?”
I just shake my head no and he frowns at me, slowly propping himself up on one arm to get a look. “I mean, you squirted? That's probably it.”
He hums dismissively and continues trying to hoist himself up. He fails. Bemoaning his sore abs, he makes grabby hands to get me to help him up. I do, and once he lays his eyes on the mess they instantly snap back to mine. “That’s from cumming once??”
“Yes..? Why? What's the matter?” He studies my face for a second. He's not wearing his glasses but I can picture them on his face, sagged halfway down his nose as he looks at me from under raised eyebrows. The mental image is incredibly endearing. He takes my face in his hands, smushing my cheeks a little as he does so.
“This, my love,” he starts, pointedly looking down to his crotch and up again, “Is not exactly the standard amount. It's hot though, don't worry. No complaints.” He chuckles a bit on the last part and I smile back at him on reflex.
I lay my hands over his, pulling them away from my face and pressing a quick kiss to one of them. “It's been a while since I came. Guess I'm a little pent up.” He makes a thoughtful little noise, flopping back onto the bed and gesturing for me to lay down with him. I follow him easily, settling onto my back and curling an arm around him as he drapes himself over me.
“Hmm, even so. As I said though, no complaints. I think it's sexy, coming that much.” He burrows his head into my chest, quiet for a second before perking up and facing me with a smirk. “Just out of curiosity, did you give yourself an objective?” I just stare at him, unimpressed. He stares back, grinning and inclining his head in a ‘well did you?’ kind of gesture. Giving in, I break our little staring contest.
“Yes.” I sigh. “I did.”
“I knew it.” He looks deeply pleased with himself and I just roll my eyes, wrapping a hand around his nape to guide his head back down on my chest. He goes without complaint, sighing a little and melting into me. “What was it? Your objective?”
Smiling down at him, I thread my fingers into his hair and start combing out some of the larger tangles. “Make it good.”
“Objective completed then,” He giggles. “You lasted really long too. I didn't have any expectations per se, but I guess I thought you’d cum a lot quicker.”
Carding my hand through his hair again, I savor the softness of it. “I'm glad I managed to hold off though, I don't think I could have lasted much longer. I know it would have been fine either way, but I really wanted to make you cum before I did.”
Ryland flushes all the way up to his hairline.
“Ah. Uhm… About that…”