Bits and Pieces

Riding Time Part Two

Without me having to say a word, he seemed to know that this wasn't something I did often. He was unfailingly patient as he probed and tested me, working me open and leaving me panting and desperate.

"Please," I whined and his laughter was darker now.

He directed me to where I was on all fours, knees splayed wide so that my ass was lower to the bed to meet his shorter frame. My thighs complained a bit about the strange angle but soon none of that mattered.

Mitch pushed into me slowly, and it became clear that no amount of prepping with those slender fingers of his would have been enough. My body was torn between shying away from this intrusion and welcoming it eagerly. I fought to remember how to breathe.

And then he was all the way in and we both just sort of held still and panted for a while, fighting the instinct to move and upset this perfect balance. Soon enough the sweet burn began to fade, replaced by a need for more. I pushed my hips back an inch or two and he hissed at me.

"Really?" Mitch murmured smugly. "You're sure?"

I laughed, which made an interesting friction between our bodies. "It's a bit late to be unsure," I said. "Fuck me, Mitch. Please."

"Mmm, that sounds delicious coming out of your mouth. Let's see what other things I can make you say." And he eased back and slammed back into me.

I might have blacked out for a moment. I didn't remember resting my forehead on the bed, so maybe I fell forward somehow. Regardless of how I got here, it was hard to raise my face again. Mitch had set a blistering pace right out of the gate, and I was helpless to do much but just take it. It was honestly the hottest thing I'd ever endured.

But as usual, as soon as Mitch set the bar for something, he began improving upon it. He started flexing his hips a bit differently and it pushed my own hips down into the bed. My cock rubbed against the bedsheets and the low thread count was a mild inconvenience. I moved my right hand so that the friction would fall against my own skin instead. It was nice, effectively stroking myself while taking Mitch's hard thrusts at the same time. But Mitch caught on to what I was doing and snapped at me.

"No. No touching," he ordered, tapping my arm.

I guess I didn't move fast enough, because he grabbed both of my arms and had me grasp my own forearms behind my back. I had no choice but to be face down in the mattress now, though he did allow me to turn to one side so that I could breathe. He also changed the angle again, denying me any of the previous friction. While he was still pounding away at me, I could hardly complain, but I still let out a little whine.

"I don't want to risk you coming too early," he huffed, holding on tightly to my arms like they were reins. He certainly knew how to ride me. "When I'm done with you, I expect you to fuck me like you did last night. I want to watch you come so hard that those pretty eyes roll back in your head. I want to know I'm the one that can do that to you. Just like I'm the only one that can do this to you."

I couldn't form words. I just groaned over and over in time with his furious assault. There was nothing but pleasure now, driving me toward oblivion. I wasn't sure how long I could remain conscious like this, maxed out, all of my vital signs red-lining. But I held on for him, because he asked for all of me and he deserved that and more.

I could just see him out of the corner of my eye, gleaming with sweat and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. When his body began to spasm and shake, I thought perhaps he'd release me, but his grip grew stronger. I knew there would be bruises, but couldn't care less. Not when he cried out--my name!--and buried himself in me one last time.