Messy or made bed?Messy, because why should it be any different to the rest of my apartment? Or my life. (I only think that last part and don't say it out loud.)
Introvert, extrovert, or something in between?Mainly extrovert, but I don't mind occasional alone time.
Comfort movie? Pitch Perfect. I have it on in the background at least once a week.
We burst into his bedroom, which, like everything else, is also about twice the size of my shoebox apartment, and immediately resume getting busy, which means I don't get to notice any of the details other than the bed. As we kiss, rough, passionate, urgent, we inch closer to it.
I try to unbutton his shirt, but the damn buttons are too small and buttony, so I let out a frustrated growl. And then, in a move that will go down as the all-time hottest thing I've ever witnessed, Anson just rips the damn thing straight off his chest.
"Holy fuck." I lunge into his arms and wrap my legs around him without thinking of the implications and start kissing theever-loving heck out of him. By the time it hits me I might be too heavy, he's walked us both to his bed. After lowering me onto it, he finishes the private strip show by taking off his pants and briefs and standing buck naked in front of a very appreciative audience.
"Holy fucking shit."
He smirks, placing his hands on his hips. "You like?"
I nod enthusiastically. My eyes are going out of their damn mind taking in every hard line, every solid muscle, of his impeccable body.
And his cock? It's the reason why bottom's bottom. Long, girthy as all hell, with a glistening mushroom head.
I steady my roaming eyes, settling on his face, marveling at how different he looks in the short span of time since he opened the front door to our first session. I feel like this version is closer to who he really is.
He approaches me. "May I?"
"Of course," I reply, letting him undress me as he kisses me.
Maybe it helps that he's already seen me naked, but I don't feel any trace of self-consciousness about my body. That little voice in the back of my head that's constantly reminding me of my flabby bits is dormant. Good. I hope it never wakes up again.
Once I'm fully naked, he braces my shoulders and looks me up and down, the head of his dick beading with even more pre-cum. "God, you're so beautiful."
My cheeks warm, but I accept the compliment because in his presence, I feel beautiful. "Thank you," I say, before dropping to my knees, keen to get my first taste of Anson.
I swipe my tongue gently across his slit, lapping up his glistening arousal. It's warm and salty and delicious.
Cupping his mammoth balls in one hand, I go down on him, working more and more of his length into my mouth until Imake it all the way down. Tears form in my eyes, and my throat has never been fuller, but this is bliss. Pure bliss.
I pull all the way back and stare up. Anson smiles, gliding his fingers along my jaw, looking at me like I’m something he never thought he’d find. Or maybe I'm projecting because that's how I feel about him.
I smear his cock along my freckled cheeks, wanting to have this precious part of him not just in me, but on me.
"That's so fucking hot, baby."
"Being called baby is so fucking hot," I tell him.
"You like it?"
"No." I lick the new beads of pre-cum that have oozed out of him. "I love it."
Another guttural growl escapes him, and then I go ham on his cock, sliding up and down on him like the desperate, hungry cocksucker I want to be for him.
13
Anson
I pull Jarvis off my cock in the nick of time. Strings of saliva and pre-cum glisten like a string of jewels between his mouth and my swollen head, and I have to constrict my inner thighs to prevent myself from falling over the edge. One more second, and I'd have blown my load down his throat.
It'smuchtoo early for that.
"Get on the bed," I instruct, my voice so low and deep it sounds foreign to me.