My head spins, and my cock is leaking, and dammit, I want to fuck him against a wall. Literally.
I rip my mouth off his and stare at him with narrowed eyes, both our chests heaving with desperate breaths after sucking each other out of oxygen. His eyes drop to my mouth, as if he is contemplating going for round two. I wouldn’t object, but I have something else in mind. He’s as hard as I am, so I’m pretty sure he’s up for it.
I lean in and place my mouth to his ear. My teeth scrape the edge of his ear, and his hands grab my arms, digging in almost painfully. I find his earlobe and bite down gently. Oh, somebody likes that.
My breath teases his ear as I say, “I really, really, really want to fuck you. Preferably against a wall, but any surface will do. You game?”
He shivers. “Fuck, yes. If I say please, will you think me too easy?”
I smile. “There’s no such thing as too easy. I dig guys who love sex.”
I lean back again, and our eyes meet, sparks still flying. “Why against a wall?” he asks, slightly hoarse.
“Have you ever had wall sex?”
He shakes his head.
“You’re in for a treat, then. Lemme show you, rather than explain.”
For one second, he looks at me, but then he nods. “Here?”
“No. Too many people watching. I don’t mind that when I’m working, but this is private. Wanna come home with me?”
“Yeah.”
We walk off the dance floor, and I wave at the rest of the boys. I notice Tank and Brewer butting heads again and sigh. Fucking morons. Campy and Pixie see me and wave back, so I know they’ll update the others.
We barely talk during the ride home, Troy opting to ride with me because apparently, he doesn’t own a car. Mine isn’t exactly a Porsche, but my Toyota is dependable. Not sexy, but this is one area of my life where I really don’t give a shit as long as it works.
As soon as we’re inside, I kick the door shut, and then I’m on him. No small talk, no polite offers of a drink. I need him. Now.
Judging by the way he attacks me right back, I guess he feels the same. Our mouths crash into each other, hot tongues dueling and seducing. God, I love that he dishes out as good as he receives. I let him fuck my mouth with his slick, sweet tongue, before I return the favor.
His hands pull on my shirt, and I step back so he can pull it off. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, then decide I really don’t have the patience for it and give a solid rip, sending them flying everywhere. Troy shoots me a look that’s somewhere between wanting to kill me and wanting to be fucked desperately. The latter can be arranged.
My hands find his zipper, and seconds later, I’ve shoved down his jeans and underwear. I groan with appreciation at his leaking cock and make short work of my own clothes. I don’t have time for slow stuff right now. My blood is pumping, my ears are roaring, and I have this desperate need to have him that won’t be denied much longer.
Panting, we’re staring at each other with hungry eyes, both naked now. “Wall or bedroom?” I ask.
Troy’s mouth pulls up in a devious grin. “Wall. Show me.”
Hell, yes. “Turn around, both hands against the wall.”
I dig up a condom and lube from my wallet, suit myself up in seconds. When I look up, Troy is standing wide spread against the wall, his hands flat against the surface, and his ass sticking out at the perfect angle. He looks at me over his shoulder with impatient eyes.
I step in, squirt the last bit of lube on my fingers. We haven’t talked sexual history and experience yet, but something tells me Troy is anything but an amateur at this. I nibble on his neck, which gives him goosebumps, and tap his hole with my right index finger. He pushes back in a clear invitation.
I press gently, but there’s no need, because he bears down on me and sucks me in greedily. “Not your first rodeo, huh?” I breathe in his ear.
He lets out a moany laugh. “I love riding cowboys. Now hurry the fuck up.”
I love a guy who’s impatient. There are times when I like taking my time, but then there are moments like this where I’m not in the mood for foreplay. I just wanna sink into that absolutely perfect ass, and I couldn’t be happier that he and I are on the same page.
I add a second finger, wriggle around a bit until he’s loose, meanwhile scraping his ears and neck with my teeth. He keeps letting out little gasps and moans.
When he can take three fingers with ease, I know we’re good. With guys I’ve never fucked before I’m always careful because of my size. I’ve had my ass ripped open a few times, and it fucking hurts for days.
“You good?” I double check.
“Hell, yeah. Gimme.”
I line up, and he pushes back, letting me in with ease. Usually, I try to stay shallow at first, but something about his greedy ass makes me slide in slowly but surely until I bottom out.
“Oh, damn,” he groans. “You’re… Fuck.”
“You good?” I ask again.
“Perfect. Now work that cock. I haven’t been this full in a long time, and fuck, I need it.”
The one downside to fucking for a living is that it can be hard for me to shut off my brain. I’m always aware of where the cameras are, of my moves, and especially of my partner. The kind of videos we make at Ballsy Boys, we try to find actors who take care of each other. That means being tuned in to someone else’s subtle signals.
Right now, every signal Troy is emitting is screaming at me to please, for the love of everything holy, pound the motherfucking hell out of him. He impatiently pushes back, his ass wide open, his hands strong against the wall. He wants this, wants me.
And he’s gonna get it. Every fucking inch. Every last drop.
I start out slowly, almost leisurely, until I get a feel for how our bodies fit. And holy fuck, they fit well. His ass grips me tightly, and when I bottom out, his globes have the perfect amount of jiggle. And those arms of his, the way his biceps tense when he holds strong against the wall. I could fucking worship his arms.
I pull out all the way and spread my legs a little farther until I’m perfectly positioned. My hands come round him, one arm on his chest, the other on his throat. “Brace,” I simply say and then the fun starts for real.
I surge into him, and our combined moans echo through the hallway. Is there any sound more beautiful than the shick noise my cock makes when I slam into him? Maybe it’s the wet slap of my full balls against his thighs. Or the little grunt he lets out when I do it again, only harder and deeper.
“Goddammit, you’re so fucking big,” he grunts, shamelessly pushing back against me. “So fucking thick. It’s the best damn feeling ever.”
I am in the mood to pound, and that’s exactly what I do. I fucking ravish his ass, and he takes it, takes me.
My brain finally switches off as I break out in sweat everywhere. My heart is racing, and the all-too-familiar first tingles of my orgasm are teasing me. And for once, I don’t have to hold back.
I wanna see him when he comes. Moreover, I want him to come all over me, while being buried as deep inside him as I can possibly get. I want to watch him unravel, feel his cum on me.
I pull out entirely. “Turn around,” I tell him, my voice hoarse.
He obeys without hesitation, and it stirs something deep inside me, as if he knows I’ll take care of him and bring him pleasure, too. His cheeks are flushed, and his body is as clammy as mine, with little droplets of sweat pearling on his forehead.
I hold my arms out. “Jump.”
He frowns for a sec, then seems to get what I’m proposing, and a big grin splits his face open. He jumps up, and I catch him. He wraps his legs around my waist, and I carefully step toward the wall until he can lean his weight back against it, both hands on my shoulders.
With a satisfied sigh, I wriggle until my cock finds his hole again. This time, when I sink deep inside him, his eyes bulge a little. I know why, because this position is fucking perfect for us both. I’m deeper inside him than I w
as before, and I love the sensation of holding his weight as I fuck him.
But for him, it’s even better. He’s stuffed to the max with my cock, and with that upward curve I have, I’m dead aimed at his prostate. He’s gonna explode all over me.
“You like?” I manage, increasing my rhythm.
“I fucking love,” he moans. “Oh, please, harder. Deeper. Dammit, Rebel, make me come.”
He’s almost whining, and I smile. Damn, I love fucking. Especially when someone is this tight, this fucking responsive, and so hella gorgeous.
I thrust hard, resulting in obscene noises that make my skin tingle and my balls pull up tight. I’m about to come so fucking hard.
Troy drops his right hand from my shoulder, seeking his cock. It’s leaking against my stomach, a deliciously dirty sensation.
“Put your hand back.”
He shoots me a dark look. “I need…”
“I know what you need. Trust me. Put your hand back.”
He does what I tell him, but his eyes are still shooting daggers. I do know what he needs. Friction. And I’m about to give it to him, because I’m a minute away from blowing.
I take one more step toward the wall, crushing his body against mine on the front and against the wall on the back. My hands push back his thighs, opening him even wider for me, and I grind my body completely into his, our skin touching everywhere. His cock is now trapped between our bodies, and I start moving my body in circles to give him the friction he needs.
Hands-off orgasm? Best. Thing. Ever.
I’m fucking him into the wall, and he’s loving it. He closes his eyes, his mouth dropping open as a constant stream of erotic sounds fall from his lips. I want to feel those words, eat them, and I take his mouth in a hot kiss, greedily drinking in his every moan and mewl.
His muscles spasm, and he bites my lip with force as he comes, spurting hot liquid between our bodies.
So. Fucking. Hot.
I keep kissing him, the faint taste of blood in my mouth—he must’ve nicked my lip—until he becomes liquid in my arms, completely limp.
Only then do I allow myself to come, and I let out a deep moan as my balls unload. My vision goes white for a sec as I fill the condom, all the tension leaving my body.
Ahhhhh. Fucking perfection.
9
Troy
I gingerly wipe my sore ass with a damp washcloth. I’ve never been fucked like that in my life. Rebel’s massive size would’ve been enough on its own to inflict some pain. Add in the force of the pounding he gave me, and I’m going to be sitting a little crooked for the next few days.
Totally worth it.
I glance at myself in the mirror and smile. My hair is sticking up in every direction, and my eyelids have a satisfied, sleepy droop to them. Anyone taking one look at me would be able to tell I’ve just seen god, and it turns out the door to heaven is between a porn star’s legs. Who knew?
I toss the washcloth in the clothes hamper near the shower and head back into Rebel’s bedroom. He’s spread out on his bed, looking sexier than any man has a right to. The moonlight filtering in through the curtains casts shadows across his skin. His long hair falls messy across his pillow, and the thin sheet rests low on his hips, the outline of his softening cock still clearly visible beneath it.
A little shiver runs up my spine. I can’t believe my luck at randomly bumping into a freaking porn star. Hands down, this will be one of those experiences I remember when I’m ninety and on my death bed.
Rebel’s eyes drift open, and he smiles at me.
“Do you have to take off right away or can you hang out for a few?”
“Um…”
I rub my hand along the back of my neck. I should leave. This is already uncharted territory for me. I don’t usually do repeats. On the other hand, Rebel is kind of cool as hell even when we’re not fucking. How often does that happen? In my experience, never.
“You don’t want to stay?” he asks, the slightest hint of insecurity in his tone.
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t usually fool around with anyone more than once, sometimes twice at most. And it’s kind of weird that I do actually want to hang out with you. I’m not really sure what to do with that.”
“Dude, I know you know I’m a porn star. No Strings is my middle name.”
“See, now I know your middle name, this is getting way too serious,” I tease, and Rebel flings a pillow in my direction. I dodge out of the way, and without letting myself think too hard about it, I crawl into bed with him.
Rebel opens his arms, and I lay my head against his bicep. I’m surprised to find it feels kind of nice to...cuddle. Holy shit, I’m cuddling with a dude after we’ve boned. There is everything wrong with this situation. On the other hand—as Rebel pointed out—if a break-up artist and commitment-phobe like myself and a porn star can’t do casual, then who can?
“Is it tacky to ask how you got into porn? It’s not exactly a job you dream of when you’re five, right?” I ask with a chuckle.
“That’s true. When I was five, I wanted to be a space cowboy, so things have gone horribly awry,” Rebel jokes, and we both laugh. “I guess doing porn is one of those things that just sort of happens when you’re not paying attention. I needed money, and I like sex, so I figured it was a no-brainer. That was almost six years ago, and I’ve loved every damn minute of it so far.”
“That makes sense. You’re happy, though? You’re not like a tragic Lifetime movie waiting to happen or anything?”
“Hell yeah. I get paid to get my dick sucked and to fuck. I’m pretty sure that’s the life lottery right there. I’m not saying I’ll be in porn forever, but I can’t see leaving the industry completely, either. I guess I’m just seeing where life takes me.”
“Mmm,” I hum to show I’m still listening, too relaxed and comfortable to bother with forming another sentence. I know I should get up and go home. But Rebel’s bed is so warm and comfortable, five more minutes won’t hurt anything.
* * *
I bolt awake in a bed that’s too warm. My skin is damp with sweat, and I realize the cause is a furnace-hot body pressed close to me. My heart flutters frantically against my ribs as my sleep-fogged brain grapples for the context of a large man in bed with me. I blink around the room, forcing myself to take even breaths and then glance over my shoulder with caution to see whose bed I’m in.
“Fuck,” I groan quietly, realizing I accidentally spent the night at Rebel’s place.
“Waswrong?” Rebel mumbles against his pillow.
“Nothing, I’m just late for class,” I lie as I ease out of bed and glance around the room for my clothes.
“On a Saturday?” he asks, his voice clearer this time.
“Uh...yeah.”
“Do you want a ride?” He finally opens his eyes and watches as I pull on my boxer briefs followed by my jeans.
“Nah, I’ll just get an Uber, thanks though. Last night was fun, so I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, I told you, I’m good with no strings, but I would like to hang out more.”
“Cool.” I nod and tug my shirt on and give Rebel one last smile before making a run for it.
It’s a short ride back to my place from Rebel’s, but for some reason, the empty quiet of my apartment this morning is unnerving. I grab my laptop bag and head over to the student union to try to get some work done.
I can’t shake the disappointment in Rebel’s expression when I bolted this morning. I must’ve been misinterpreting that, right? There’s no way he cared that I cut and run as soon as I woke up. I’m sure he has tons of things to do today, friends to hang out with, grocery shopping. Fuck, I don’t know, he’s got a life, and I have no idea what it consists of. And I have work to do, too. I can’t let a little fun with my porn star crush sidetrack me from my goals.
“Are you working on that project for Coding?” Mason asks from over my shoulder as I work on my laptop in the student lounge.
“No, this
is a personal project. I had an idea for a game, so I thought I’d try to put some of my education to use and see what comes out.”
“Oh?” Mason’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans closer with interest. “What’s the game?”
I hesitate for a second before deciding Mason isn’t the type to snake my idea and fuck me over. “It’s a play on all the dating games. It’s a break-up game. The player creates an avatar and goes on dates with Non-Playable Characters and then has to dump them. You get points for creativity, tact, stuff like that.”
Mason’s eyes light up. “That’s brilliant. That could make millions as a mobile game.”
“Hopefully,” I agree with a chuckle. “The problem is, I’m shit at the artistic part. If I take this much further than I already am, I’ll end up having to bring someone else in.”
“Oh, well, you know my minor is graphic design. The visual aspect and world design is actually my strong suit.”
“No shit?”
Mason blushes and pushes his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’d love to work with you on this...if you want to, that is.”
“Absolutely.” I pat the seat next to me. When Mason sits down, I start to explain what I’ve been working on so far and what I’m picturing moving forward.
I’m practically bouncing with excitement. I was enthusiastic about this project before, but now it seems like this could really happen, and that’s cool as fuck.
“Hey listen, I feel like I should apologize again for the thing with your boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Mason corrects. “And it’s fine. I mean, at first, it wasn’t fine. It was...just so unexpected. I was planning to propose; I thought we were happy.”
I nod sympathetically while trying not to cringe. He was going to propose? He thought that at barely past twenty, he’d been dating the man he would spend his entire life with? Jesus, that’s another sixty years, at least. And to that fucking guy? Christ, Mason had terrible taste in men. I shudder internally but refrain from adding my two cents.
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