The Muse's Undoing

“You think I’m gonna like this?” he asks.

I run my hand over his bare leg, stopping at his inner thigh. “I think you’re gonna love it.”

“I had a catheter for a month after my testicle surgery.”

“I’m aware.”

“I didn’t mind it. I thought it made life a lot easier, actually, for a while.”

“It did cut the workload some.”

“You do this a lot?” he asks.

“Only to myself,” I say.

He turns his head to look at me. “Why?”

“I bore easy.”

His answering laugh is nervous. I run a soothing circle over his chest and slot my head next to his. With my other hand I adjust my cock between us as it fills, letting it rest on my abs with his back smashed against it. Kissing his cheek, I say, “You might only like an inch of it…but if you get good at it, you can get it all the way to your prostate.”

His dick twitches to life. “Fuck…”

“Take out your cock, Fischer.”

He finally removes his shorts, shoving them down his legs with the hand not holding the sound.

Motion at the glass draws my attention, and I notice two shadowy figures outside who’ve stopped to watch. It makes me plant a possessive kiss on Fischer’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck. I murmur, “Now put that straight into the bottle of lube.”

The simple act of watching Fischer dip the rod into the lube then move it up and down to coat it gets me rock hard. I suck on his earlobe, savoring every second of this new first between us. “Will you put it in?” he whispers.

I take the lubed rod from him, hoping he’d ask. “Hold your cock for me.”

“I’m barely hard.”

“It’s better that way. Still trust me?”

“Yes.”

Either he hasn’t noticed we’re being watched, or he doesn’t care. That, or I’ve given him too many other things to worry about.

Keeping my mouth close to his skin, I swirl the end of the rod over his tip, making sure his tiniest hole has lube on it, too. “Relax,” I say as he tenses against me.

“Will it hurt?”

“In a good way. You’re gonna love this, princess. I promise.”

He sags against me, his body surrendering to mine. I ease the tip into his slit, and he sucks in a breath. “Fuck…”

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I will,” he says, and I believe him. “Can I touch myself?”

“Of course.”

He gives his dick a stroke and lets out a shaky sigh. The rod has a mind of its own when all the angles are right. I sink it in an inch, but have to resist its will to drop further into him. Shit, he was made for this.

His hips squirm. “Oh, God, Matty… Oh fuck, what happens if I get too hard?”