The Naked Cleaner

by Sophia Soames

  I reach over and lift the pillow up. Damn. Damn.

  And Pontus squirms, and rolls to the side, burying his face in his hands.

  There are like ten condoms. And a very nice-looking prostate massager.

  “Wow.”

  That’s me. I love it. Fuck, I love him.

  “I’ve never dared to use it. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just put it there and then I chickened out and then you arrived before I could hide it again.”

  “We are so using that. I promise you, I will give you some amazing orgasms. Oh baby.”

  Here we go. Straight on the road to fuck ups because the damn dildo thingy is far too delicious looking to ignore, and it will be great for loosening him up, and will feel. Ohh. Intense.

  The damn thing hums gently when you get the vibrate going, and it’s thin enough to use for a first timer.

  “You’ve never used this?” I ask, as I smear it in lube. I hope he has more lube because this shit is running out fast.

  “No.” He whispers from somewhere underneath a pillow.

  “Come back out here.” I laugh and dig him out, lifting his head up and stuffing a pillow under his neck. “I am going to make you scream with ecstasy with this little thing up your arse. I promise. Now lift your hips up for me?”

  “You sound like a nurse.” He’s smiling a little. Good. He should be smiling.

  “Are you ready for your rectal exam, Mr Andreassen?” I deadpan, putting a stern look on my face.

  “Oh fuck, please don’t say we’re doing Doctors and Nurses now?” He’s laughing. Thank fuck he’s laughing.

  “Mr Andreassen, I understand you are worried about not having had a prostate orgasm. I think that is something we can rectify with a few simple exercises.”

  “Exercises?” He’s still smiling. Good. Good. Keep going, Louis. You’ve got this.

  His leg lands on my shoulder and I massage his butt cheeks, moving gently in towards his crack. He’s nervous, I can tell, but I smile at him and churn out some more pathetic doctor speak, complimenting his fine specimen of a cock, and his excellent example of balls. I also express a liking for his fine arse, as my fingers gently circle his hole.

  “Relax, baby. I am not going to hurt you. I am just going to use one finger, gently, gently.”

  I do. I can do this, and fuck, I want to kiss him as I do this, and then he does this embarrassed little sound as I breach him, and then he hides his face under the pillow again.

  In a way it’s good that he’s hiding, because now I can concentrate and watch. I love watching my finger disappearing inside him. He’s all hot and the lube is doing it’s job and I bend down and start kissing his skin, licking at his balls, and yup. Oh, just look at him. Chest all flushed and hands fisting the sheet and his head still under the pillow and it makes me smile, because he will be screaming in a minute.

  Yup. Lots of muffled sounds comes out as I start licking his cock. Just circling the head, nipping with my lips at his foreskin, sucking gently and tasting him. Gorgeous. Just as I knew it would be. He tastes amazing, and I pull out my finger so I can add a second. I don’t think he’ll mind, already more relaxed around my digit. Two fingers gently prodding the opening and I take a deep breath, and then I swallow him all the way down to the root as I press my fingers inside of him.

  Yup, a little overwhelming as I thought it would be, because the pillow goes flying and he is thrashing around on the bed and calling me a some very rude words. I still suck him, bobbing my head back up in little movements before taking him all the way down to the root again. His pubes tickling my nose and my throat gagging with the intrusion. He swears. Loudly. I smile with a mouth full of cock.

  “Now let’s get this show on the road.” I croak out and giggle because he looks wild. Unhinged. Like no one has ever shown him what his body can do. The human body is amazing. I say that. I think. Before pouring more lube over my fingers and jamming them back into his hole with a satisfying slick wet sound.

  He howls. Not in pain, because his cock is rock hard and he’s leaking again which I swiftly lap up before sucking down his cock like an ice lolly.

  To say I am turned on is an understatement. I love sex. I love bodies. I love human beings, and most of all, I think I love Pontus. I want to turn him over so I can sink into him and drill him into the mattress. But I want to kiss him too, and then doing this missionary style, on top of him, like this, is better. I can’t decide. I can’t think. And there is his prostate. Wow.

  He goes all glassy eyed. I mean when someone finds mine, I tense up like a coil and go all shivery. Pontus seems to travel into space, his mouth hanging slack and my mouth diving straight back onto his cock in sheer excitement. Then I think I need to fuck him. I really need to fuck him, and my fingers are scissoring and prodding and he’s all loose and relaxed and probably weirded out, but at this point I don’t really care.

  I just rearrange his limbs like he is some kind of super-sexy rag doll, and stuff a damn pillow under his arse and throw his legs over my shoulders as he squirms and moans and says something that sounds something like fuck me which is good enough for consent right now. Or maybe not.

  “Pontus.” I say sternly.

  “More.” He whines.

  We’re good.

  I line up my cock and take another breath. Here we go. Wish me luck. I will either break him or make him love me forever, and that is a heady task. He’s mine. He’s mine. He’s my person. I love him. I will love him. I will make him love me back... I think.

  I don’t think any more after that. I just let myself feel. Feel how he clenches around me, how he relaxes when I stop and shush him, how my kisses warm his skin. How he breathes into my mouth and whispers words I can barely make out. I love how he roars when I finally bottom out, and he is all mine. I’m inside of him and he is inside of me. In my heart. In my soul.

  Yeah, I’m overdramatic, but then. It is what it is.

  I don’t know what it is, really, just that I’m happy and he kisses me and his hands are tugging at my hair, and his legs are everywhere and I slam into him and pull out and slam back in, as he roars and shouts and moans and whimpers, and then he kisses me again and everything goes silent.

  Blackout.

  Tiny stars twinkling somewhere in the little space inside my head.

  I come like a fucking freight train. I just come and come and come. Spurts of something hitting the condom inside of him and I can’t even tell what’s up and what’s down.

  His hand has somehow found his own cock and he is tugging erratically at himself, his eyes squinted shut and his face frozen in a grimace as his breath stutters. He’s close. He’s fucking almost there and I egg him on. Whisper that he’s gorgeous and he’s mine, and please come for me and I love that you are here and I…

  I love him.

  How stupid is that? But he comes right there and then, and roars into my cheek as my limp cock slides out of him and immediately starts getting hard again.

  Go figure. He’s like a fucking sex god lying here in this damn bed, which is full of lube and sweat and come and...

  Me.

  Him and me.

  And I get stabbed by the damn prostate massager that is underneath me, as I burst into giggles.

  “Forgot to use this.” I say. Like a stupid person.

  But he just smiles and reaches for me and pulls me down on top of him again until we are lying there in the most disgusting tangled heap of human limbs smelling of sex.

  “Was it okay?” He asks. Like he even has to ask when I can’t stop smiling.

  “You were amazing. Better than amazing. Do you want to fuck me next?”

  He laughs. Laughs and laughs and my stomach flutters.

  “I need to sleep this one off first.” He smiles and then he looks all shy again. Like he has said something wrong.

  “Did you like it? Bottoming?” I have to ask. I need feedback. I need to make it better for him next time, because bottoming is like awesome when someone know
s what they are doing.

  “It was good, because it was you. I trust you. You didn’t hurt me.”

  “It’s not supposed to hurt. Sex should never hurt. Unless you are into whips and chains and flogging, and apparently it can be a real high but… No. Not for me.” I stop talking and wriggle around until I have him right where I need him. Me on top of him, and his face in my hands as I clumsily hold myself up on my elbows. “I will never hurt you. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m an arsehole at times, and I get scared, and I say stupid shit, Louis. But I will try.” He goes quiet again.

  “Are you sore?” Please don’t be sore. I know I was rough, but I used lots of lube.

  “I need to clean up… I think. Brush my teeth.”

  “Drink some water.”

  “Yeah.” He laughs. We’re good.

  We have a shower and I blow his mind. It’s just a blowjob, but he comes in my mouth and I fucking love it. Then I make us toasties and we watch the rest of the third season of that show, all tangled up in each other.

  It’s almost two o’clock when we stumble into bed. He snores into my shoulder. Sniffles in his sleep. Wriggles like a three-year-old, yet I struggle to fall asleep.

  I don’t know what to do with myself, because I have so many things I want to do.

  I want to stay right here forever.

  I want to get a job, buy a big house. Get a dog. Marry Pontus.

  I have too much shit in my head, and a house full of butterflies in my stomach.

  I want to make him happy. I want him to smile. I want to live here, and look after him. I want us to be naked all the time and just love each other.

  I don’t know what I want.

  I finally drift off with him snoring in my ear and drooling on my shoulder, and I think that maybe this is good. Maybe this is real. Maybe. Just maybe this is me. Right where I am supposed to be.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pontus

  I don’t quite know where I am when I slowly come around, blinking awkwardly into the light from the window. I never pulled the curtains last night and now it’s like super light everywhere and my left arm is dead and my arse is sore and for a second this wave of shame comes over me like a red-hot blanket.

  I try to ignore it, but it’s right there. Me, Pontus Andreassen, is naked in bed with some kind of god-like naked creature in my arms. I must be dreaming. It can’t be real.

  But somehow, he is still here, all real and warm and snuffling gently in his sleep. And I don’t quite know how I feel about that. I love that he’s here, that he is curled up in a very large ball of limbs, and that my arms are all around him. My cheek, a little wet with drool, still firmly against his shoulder blade. He’s fast asleep, making little snoring sounds as he breathes, his chest rising and falling against my wrist. The one I can feel that is, because the one that is wedged underneath his chest is tingling like a motherfucker.

  Somehow it would have been easier if he had left. Somehow, I could have coped with that, and just got on with work and let my stupid brain forget that I have gone and fallen headfirst into some kind of stupid crush. I didn’t mean to, and I certainly didn’t willingly end up letting him fuck me into the damn mattress last night. Then I went and got all clingy and emotional and plastered myself to him for the rest of the evening, demanding cuddles and kisses and shit.

  What the hell was I thinking? Doing?

  Not that I am helping myself here, because I’m wriggling my arm free, but am I being sensible and getting up and having a shower and making some coffee and getting my head in gear? Nope. No. The idiot that I am is snuggling in closer to Louis and letting my hand very cheekily grope him, and I kind of do these little sloppy kisses on his shoulder and whisper shit in his ear, like I know what I am fucking doing.

  I haven’t got a clue what I am doing, but whatever I have done must be working, because now he is growing a boner in my grip, and he’s smiling in his sleep and trying to turn around, and I am all over him, kissing his skin like an obsessed stalker of some kind.

  I don’t get it. I have no idea what I’m trying to achieve here.

  But I like it. Fuck, I love it. I love his skin against mine. I love his little whimpers when I shuffle downwards, trailing kisses and licks along the way.

  I may not be getting this again. Fuck, I may not be getting anything ever again, and having made a complete fool out of myself last night I may as well make a lasting impression. At least I don’t think I am too bad at blowjobs. I practised that a lot when I was younger, and then it’s my trick of choice whenever I land myself a hook-up. Which isn’t often, and I can’t think of anything worse right now, because I think to myself that the only cock I ever want to suck again is the lovely specimen between my lips. And that kind of spurs me on, alongside the fact that he is moaning up there and tugging at my hair and pushing my head down. He wants it. I want this. Fuck I want it, all the way down my throat.

  It’s not like you see in porn. I can’t deep-throat like a pornstar, and I gag and choke and slurp and make little noises, but dudes seem to dig that and Louis is definitely digging this. I think. I hope. Oh fuck, perhaps he is just faking it?

  Yeah, performance anxiety right there. I stop and look up at him, half expecting him to laugh in my face. Instead his hand is visibly shaking against my face and he pants out something I can’t quite make out before begging for more.

  Oh fuck. And that, just that look in his eyes when he says it almost has me coming there and then, surges of heat rolling over me and my dick hardening to impossible standards, even for me. I’m going to shoot before he comes and that… Fuck…

  I try to think sane thoughts, and then he pushes my face down, just gently enough but firm to the point that I whimper, and now I am leaking all over my sheets. Again. Well what’s new? We have kind of smeared half a bottle of lube into this bed already, I may as well just come all over it.

  Not that I want to. I want to come all over him. I want to come in his mouth. I want to come. Full stop.

  “Pontus… baby… If you don’t... ahhhh… I’m… close.”

  I suppose that’s him giving me a gentleman’s warning that he is about to shoot down my throat. Fair do’s, and no, I’m not going to stop. Or pull off and do some lame hand job to finish him off.

  “Where’s the lube?” I croak out.

  And he responds by pulling his knees up and spreading his legs for me, in an obvious invitation to do whatever I want to the gorgeousness that is his body. Oh fuck. I have to grab my balls and hold on tight, because that, again, almost makes me come. Without anything more than the desperation in his voice and the total, dare I say it, sluttiness of his actions.

  I am not calling him a slut. It’s just he’s so free in what he wants and what he needs, and I wish I could be more like that.

  I kind of want to smear some lube on myself and just ride him hard and fast until I pass out from the orgasm brewing in my balls.

  But I am sore, and it would probably be a bad idea.

  Or not.

  I lick his balls as he places the bottle of lube in my hand, and oh.

  Hello.

  Bingo.

  Hey, Prostate Deluxe Pro, the number one choice of the professional Adult Industry. Apparently. Whatever the blurb had screamed out at me to make me buy it, but it’s now sitting nicely in the palm of my hand, alongside the discreet-looking bottle of lube, and then there is this beautiful dude panting and shaking a little and looking… yeah. Now he’s embarrassed and doing all those things that I myself did last night. Hiding under the pillow and wanting to sink into the mattress with shame.

  “I’ll be gentle.” I whisper, getting some kind of insane Papa Bear impulse, where I throw myself on top of him and kiss him like I am starving.

  What the hell is wrong with me? This is not me. This is definitely not who I am.

  “You are gorgeous. “ My mouth churns out, while I stare at him like he’s edible.

  Which of course he is, because the
n I sit up and smear lube everywhere and I shake like I’m full of fever when I am not.

  I’m full of him. I think. High on everything that he is, and I am not. I say it again, I don’t know what I am doing, or what he is doing to me, but I let out a little laugh, and he smiles back, all red cheeked and maybe a little teary eyed as my fingers start to carefully circle his skin. The slightly hairy bits. The tight ring of muscle.

  I’ve never done this, but somehow, I kind of think. I know what I am supposed to be doing, and although in real life it’s awkward as fuck in your head, it’s actually totally natural once your hands are down there, and his cock is back in my mouth where it belongs, then my finger gently prods at his opening as his mouth shouts out something that makes me want to giggle again. Which is hard when your mouth is full of cock and balls.

  Then the damn massager is all slippery with the lube and just slides through my fingers instead of gently slipping inside him. It takes a few goes, and I have to let go of his cock and use both hands, but he roars when I finally get it all under control and the smooth plastic slides inside of him.

  I wish it was me. Fuck I’m such a needy greedy bottom.

  And yes. I say that out loud. Not that I meant to, but I’m so shocked at myself that I say it again.

  “I can’t wait for you to do this to me. I think I am probably a damn needy greedy bottom.”

  “Fuck yeah” He pants and his whole body seems to clench and release as the massager starts to slip out of him, and I push it gently back in, at the same time as I give his cock a few good licks.

  “Oh, hell, you are amazing. Please. More. Oh. Pontus. Baby.”

  “You sure talk a load of shit.” I giggle and turn the vibrations on with one hand as the other starts pumping my own cock.

  “Fuck.” I whine.

  I shouldn’t have done that. Now I am desperate to come, and struggling to hold it back as Louis shouts and wriggles beneath me... I think I might have hit the right spot.

  He looks totally unhinged, his hips shaking and he’s moving in little jerks, his body shifting all over the place and his hands are jamming the pillow back over his head.