After Joe

107 Days.

That’s how long I went without anyone else. Without another man’s touch. Without feeling a man’s kiss. Without a man pulsing inside me. I was a wreck, and there weren’t many around me to care. I had pretty much pushed everyone else away. Joe was my world. And when that accident took him away from me at the start of that year, just after a perfect Christmas with his family, there was no one left for me. There was no one else I wanted around me.

Over three months since leaving Joe’s father’s house after Christmas and the accident. Over three months now without Joe. The reality with Joe’s death had sunk in fast. I was alone. 24 years old and a lonely, broken young man.

And before reality hit and I could even grieve his death, there was the immediate problem of the house. I had 90 days to move out of our house. Well, Joe’s house after all it wasn’t in my name. Back then, there was nothing legally that tied me to Joe. I had to pretend I was his brother just to get into the room where he lay lifeless, attached to machines. The house was his and his alone, and I was just a pretend brother. So when he died, his sister took over.

Julia was still kind, but she was grieving as well. It was beyond tense at the hospital, and I was in no condition to ask for anything. I think Julia recognized that, and took over for me, she would say later. She thought it would be a good idea to get me out of the house and promised to give me some money from the sale of it because she knew how much I loved him. And how much he truly loved me. It was the right thing to do she had said to me. 10 percent was the right thing? When we had shared over three years together? When we were completely in love with each other? What’s mine is yours. We are one he had said. With him gone, I was nothing. I had nothing. Only 10 percent of our life together.

I took a leave from work. I tried to function as best I could while still in our house for those few months. His house. He was no longer there with me. Every night I relived that moment leaving his father’s place after Christmas and coming upon the accident. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see him looking at me as he pulled the truck over to the shoulder to help. I secretly tell myself we shouldn’t have stopped to help. If we had kept driving, Joe would still be here. But Joe wasn’t a selfish man and helping people out was in his nature. That was Joe, too helpful.

I still shiver when I remember the cold that night. I can still picture the vehicle sliding towards us as we stood on the side of the road. I could still hear his deep voice calling out my name and pushing me sideways. I can still hear the sound of his head hitting the pavement and the emotions that took over seeing him on the ground.

While I began to pack up once the house sold, surrounded by his things, our things, my grief consumed me. I had to get out, to get away from his clothes, the smell of him that still lingered, the sight of every piece of furniture, of our life together. I got rid of all of his things, all of our things together, except for that one special gift from Joe. I needed to escape before I did something even more drastic.

When the sale of Joe’s house closed finally, I didn’t move back with my mother. She had never been supportive of my relationship with Joe. And I just couldn’t be with anyone. She too was having problems of her own with Walt now. It gave me a reason to go elsewhere so I found an apartment to rent for the time being and bought a few things to take my mind off him. But the new place didn’t change my emotions. I could still sense him. I could still feel his big hand laying lifeless in the hospital bed as I sat 24/7 at his side. That strong paw of his, now still and weak, that I held every day waiting for him to open those big eyes again. I could still feel the nurse’s hand on my shoulder as the machines switched off. After only a week, Julia had given in, even though I wasn’t ready to let go. I would still be sitting there beside his immovable body, still holding his hand if they hadn’t pried me off him.

But Julia gave up on him, after only one week.

Now it was one week after I moved out of our house and into a one-bedroom apartment, with boxes still yet to be unpacked. The IKEA bed I bought had been put together by me, loose sheets tossed on the mattress on it and the duvet I kept strewn over it in a half hazard sort of way. But that was about it save for the sofa and chair in the living room. I kept to myself, hardly going out, crying alone in my apartment.

My grieving had turned to anger finally. 107 days after the accident and I felt more alone than ever. I was still off work, and I spent my time alone on the verge of a complete breakdown, just mad at everyone and everything. At only 24 I had had enough of this world. From a single parent upbringing to a coach that seduced me, to a string of men that had led me to Joe and complete and utter happiness and confidence, I was now unsure of who I was, how I could possibly find happiness again or what I would do with myself.

It was my anger and loneliness that made me pick up the phone near the end of April on that 107th day and call his number. It was out of anger I wanted to reach out again, to feel the connection of a man, to show Joe that I COULD move on as I knew he would want me to. After 107 days I needed something familiar. I was afraid that if I couldn’t feel alive again, there was no reason to go on.

I let the phone ring and ring. But he didn’t pick up.

I screamed into the receiver and slammed the phone down, expecting him to be available after four years. Forgetting that his wife and kids would come first. How dare he, I thought in anger as I dialed a second number. The second number that had I contemplated calling first. The second number of a man I had hurt, and who lived much farther away. Both men had drifted into my head after Joe. Both men had left a mark with me. I needed someone.

After all these years I wondered if they still thought about me.

The second number was the one I really wanted to call first. But the way I had left him, left me somewhat scared, worried that he would not be so receptive.

But he answered.

The deep voice gave a gruff “Hello” after the third ring, and immediately a rush came over me and I felt my cock stiffen for the first time in so long at just his words. I paused as memories flooded me. His big smooth body. That thick huge cock. The sound of his voice sparking instant shockwaves through me.

“Tom?” I asked tentatively.

There was a slight pause, and a drawn out “Yeeeeeesssss….” as he tried to place my voice. After all, it had been over two years since I had last seen him, in the university centre as Joe stood beside me. Two big men sizing each other up as I stood between them.

“Hey…It’s, uh, Brian.” I said and waited.

I heard a sharp breath and then a definite exhalation with a slight “Huh.”

“I, uh….I didn’t know who else to call….” I muttered out in a lie already, feeling the emotions rushing over me as the sound of my own voice came out of me. I stopped short, catching my breath and trying to sound normal. But Tom sensed something was different.

“You okay?” Tom asked in his familiar tone. That phrase got to me and I held back my tears. Tom was a man who truly got to know me. Once my professor. Then something more.

“No.” I said through trembling lips. And then I couldn’t speak. I just held the phone tighter, closing my eyes tight and trying to control myself.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you in town? Are you okay?”

I was holding my breath, afraid to let any sound out. I was pissed that I couldn’t control this, pissed that Tom was hearing this, pissed that Joe was gone.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice sounded almost furious, and even though I couldn’t speak, I was shaking my head until I managed to get out a “NO” before I started to sob.

“Did you guys break up?” I heard Tom ask after a moment of silence. Tom remembered. He had eyed Joe carefully when he saw us together. He knew about us.

“No….” I looked up at the ceiling, trying to control my own anger, and finally sputtered out, “…there was an accident. And he….uh…..he….” I trailed off, trying to stop the sounds attempting to come out of my gut.

“Brian? Are YOU okay?” Tom’s voice sounded different. He sounded scared. “What do you need? Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.” Tom’s voice was direct, commanding, strong. He was taking over, like I knew he would. He was suddenly in charge again, just like before. This was what I needed.

“You.” I said. “I need to see you.” I choked out.

“Are you back home? Do you need me to come to you?” His voice seeped into me, directly back to my soul. That connection we had was still strong. I was the one that shut it down. I was the one that couldn’t get past the fact that I was his student, and he was my professor. I was too young back then, afraid of something more. Until Joe came along.

But I also knew that before Joe, Tom was the only other one that knew me completely. Inside and out.

“He died.” I got out, and there was silence on the other end. I could hear my own heart pounding in my head, thumping like mad, wishing Tom was here right now to hold me.

There was a moment of silence, so long I thought he hung up, until I heard his voice again. “Oh my God. Brian I am so sorry. Tell me where you are and I’ll come see you. Right now. I’ll come right now.” Tom’s voice was softer, and I could hear that fatherly figure emerge from him again. I needed someone to take care of me.

It took a while for us to work out the details, as I tried to protest, suddenly ashamed for calling him. But he persisted. I honestly didn’t think he would come. I just needed to hear his voice. I needed to know that someone still cared.

Despite the three-hour drive, despite the end of the semester marking, despite not knowing exactly where I lived, Tom insisted. I let him take over, I let him come to me. I needed him and he knew it. I promised him I would wait. I promised him I wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Three hours went by so slowly. I did manage to shower, but I still wasn’t eating much. I had lost almost 25 pounds, including some muscle mass. I was definitely leaner, my 5’9 frame barely reaching 140 pounds. My waist was thinner, my arms seemed smaller though still defined with some muscle still over me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought I looked too skinny. But my pecs were still hard, my abs still showing. My eyes more grey and piercing, like a hungry wolf.

At the three and a half hour mark, there was a knock at my door and I rushed to it, opening the door without speaking and slid to the floor beside it, holding my legs to my chest and my eyes to the floor.

The door slowly opened and I saw the size 13 running shoes step in. A whiff of him seeped into my nostrils and I looked up into the big blue eyes of my former lover. My former professor. My former Daddy.

“Jesus Brian.” His deep voice said as he frowned down at me and pulled my skinny frame up and into his still massive and still solid body and held me in his hands. He seemed bigger, thicker, even stronger as he stood over me. I could see in his eyes that I didn’t look the same. “You’re not okay.”

He pulled me in and I wrapped my arms around that big back and closed my eyes into him as he bear-hugged me. My feet lifted off the floor and wrapped around him, making him cradle me like a little boy. I buried my face into his chest, feeling the mountain of muscle under his sweatshirt against my cheeks as I felt the tears come. Tom said nothing, just stood there holding me, resting his chin on the top of my head, lightly rubbing my back as I shivered out tears. His sweatshirt was soft, smelling like him.

After a while, I felt my body being carried to the lone chair I had set up across from my sofa, Tom sitting down with me still cradled in his arms. He still didn’t say anything, just let me cry, holding me, rocking me, not telling me to stop or anything. When I finally subsided, I sat back a bit, finally looking at him. That Viking look was still there. His face still lean and handsome, his hair still shaved short. His body was still bulky, still massive, still full of muscles. For a man in his early forties, he still had it. He felt good. And I felt calm in his arms.

“Feel better?” He asked me softly.

I nuzzled back into his thick neck, breathing in the familiar smell of him and wrapped my arms around his chest. “Yes.” I said quietly. “I can’t believe you drove all this way. Thank you.”

Tom didn’t respond, but his big hand moved slowly up and down my leg. I could hear him breathing and wondered what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” I mumbled quietly into his sweatshirt.

“I’m glad you did. You’re not okay.” His voice was low, almost inaudible compared to the giant of a man he was. “Wanna talk about it? What happened?” He added softly. I felt my body relaxing and I closed my eyes as my nose rested against his throat.

It took me a moment to begin, the images all coming back to me in flashes, until I finally found the words to begin. “We were coming home from his dad’s place in January. January 2nd. After Christmas.” I had a flash of Joe in his PJs, red flannel, white shirt, bare feet, and my voice cracked. “We came upon a car accident – two cars had collided after hitting a patch of black ice.” I was amazed at how calm I could relay this information to Tom. I hadn’t talked about it to many people since I left the hospital, thinking that it was a dream and hadn’t really happened.

I took another deep breath, feeling my body shaking a bit as I continued. Tom’s giant hand gently stroked my back as I talked. The sensation sending shivers over my shaking body, calming me at one.

“Joe immediately pulled over to help. It had looked like it had just happened as the one guy was getting out of the one car.” I stopped for a moment as images flashed by me: Joe pulling over quickly; Joe jumping out and telling me to stay in the truck; me getting a blanket from the truck as the one girl fainted into Joe; Joe looking back at me; me moving to him; headlights coming at me; Joe’s voice loud as he yelled at me to move; Joe pushing me out of the way; and the sound of his body taking the blow, first from the truck, then from the pavement. “Another car – a pickup – slid on the same patch of ice that caused the first accident and swerved into us as we were helping. It was skidding towards me.” I felt Tom’s hand glide upwards over my shoulder where it stopped at this sentence and squeezed, as if he knew what I was going to say. “Joe pushed me out of the way and the pickup hit him. And then his head hit….” I stopped, trying to remember what the nurse had told me. “He died of a brain hemorrhage. Traumatic Brain Injury. He bled out in his brain.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Knowing how big Joe was, he probably broke the truck.” Tom squeezed me tighter in his arms and I felt a little chuckle escape me, and it made me smile. He was right. No truck would have taken down Joe. It was the pavement that did it.

“He lasted seven days. One week before they turned off the life support. I thought he would wake up….” I trailed off and felt Tom’s hands resume their light caress up and down my back as I lay against him. I breathed in his scent, rested my hand on the swell of his hard pec once again. I could hear his heart thumping in his chest and I felt my own pulse match his rhythm. It felt good to be resting against another man again.

“I’m so sorry Brian.” He kissed the top of my head like a father would, and wrapped his arms tighter around me, rocking me. His cheek rested on the side of my face, and he whispered again, “I’m so, so sorry.” After a moment I looked up at him, and his eyes looked at me sadly. I studied him for a moment, the outline of his face so close to mine, his sad look on his face at me and the way his lips were slightly parted, breathing out slowly. Something inside me flared as I moved up his body a bit and found those parted lips with mine.

Tom didn’t move, didn’t kiss me back, and just looked at me with his eyes open, letting me crawl up his body, pushing him back in the chair, as I hungrily kissed and sucked on those big lips of his. His hands moved around me, holding me by the waist as he seemed to resist, eventually pulling his head back far enough to break the seal. I opened my eyes, his hands now on my cheeks, holding me, looking back at me. He shook his head slightly, those eyes staring at me. My cock was swelling, and I felt dizzy. For the first time since Joe died.

“Brian…” he started to say softly.

“Please.” Was all I said. I could feel him underneath me. I knew he wanted me just as badly. He let out a sigh and looked at me sadly. “Please!” I said almost tearfully between his two soft hands on my face.

With sad eyes he leaned forward to me, opening his mouth to kiss me. I almost sobbed, feeling his tongue meet mine, the familiar way in which our mouths connected. I latched on to him, practically swallowing him as my body responded, pressing into him again. His hands moved down my body, feeling the contours of my trimmer body, moving one hand between my jock ass and sliding a finger under my loose-fitting pants.

As soon as I felt his hand on my skin, I let loose. I leaned back on his legs and pulled at his top, lifting it up to get at his still fit, still rippling body. I dove downwards, licking at his abs as he lifted his arms over his head and tore his own sweater off. I slid down his legs, to his shoe covered feet, tugging at his jeans. I looked up into his eyes but this time there was a smirk, and his eyes were half closed as I opened his fly and grabbed hold of his big cock. That big 10 inches of uncut meat that was already hardening for me.

I spread his jeans wide as I sat on my knees in between his legs on the floor, pulling his underwear down over top and let it flop out, watching it grow even more, seeing the head of it emerge slowly from the skin. Still as thick as ever, still as tasty looking, still mouth-watering. I dove onto it, savouring in the familiar smell, the way it tasted as I took him in my mouth. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, I blocked all memories and just started to suck. His cock was bigger than Joe’s, and still hard for me. I took it as deep as I could, letting my instincts take over, as if we hadn’t been apart for the last 5 years and I knew how to handle his 10 inches easily.

His big hand moved over my head and he remained quiet, watching me as I feasted. Just like old times. So I was confused when he pulled back, lifting my head and holding me in his big hands.

“Brian, stop. I can’t.” He didn’t move though, just looked at me as my fist held his thick cock. He didn’t believe what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes. And I wasn’t going to stop.

I pushed him back in the chair and he seemed to let me, given his size and how he outweighed me by like 100 pounds. I climbed back up his body, straddling him, never breaking my gaze and put my hands on his shoulders, staring back at him. “I need you Tom. Please. I just…need to feel something.” I lowered my head onto his forehead, and I heard a long sigh as we sat like this for a few seconds, forehead to forehead. Then his hands moved up my legs, over my ass and in one swift motion, he was pulling down my track pants over my ass. I grabbed his face and kissed him, sucking in air through my nose, moving my ass back to feel that big 10 incher of his behind me. He was fully erect, and he was breathing just as hard as I was now. There was no turning back. He was moving like the Tom I knew, like the man that took control, like the daddy that needed his boy.

His lips clamped onto mine and he hungrily kissed me, hard, chewing on my mouth and gagging me with his tongue. I heard the low growl in his throat. I felt his body moving as if on its own again, pulling me into him closer, no longer thinking with his brain. He wanted me. And I NEEDED him.

I spit on my hand and reached behind me to stroke him, maintaining my lock on his mouth with my lips. I could feel his hands doing the same, fumbling frantically, slapping his big cock against my ass, his breathing increasing, as if this was something he needed to do quickly. His hands grabbed my ass and spread me wide, and then moved me over his dick as I held it up. We wriggled together, trying to get to the spot, and when his cockhead found my hole, I stopped moving, holding him in place, letting my ass take over. Our mouths stopped kissing, and we opened our eyes and looked deep into each other. We were mere inches apart, our breath feeding into each other’s open mouths as I felt my ass splitting open slowly. There was a pain that I hadn’t felt in years, and I knew I had to go slowly or else Tom’s big cock was going to hurt. I shifted, moving up, feeling his massive pecs under me as I held on to him. Tom just sat beneath me, waiting, watching, breathing. But the look in his eyes was undeniable: he wanted me just as badly.

“Take it easy baby.” He whispered, pecking my lips softly as I held him in place.

I added more spit and then tried again, closing my eyes and lowering myself down. I heard Tom’s breath catch, and then a quick exhale before he held his breath, waiting for me to take him in. His fingers were clutching my ass, holding me apart, waiting for the heat to take over and swallow him inside me.

And then I gave way, his head pressing in forcefully, the tip of his shaft splitting me open. Tom let out a long breath and clutched my ass as he resisted plunging into me. He knew he had a big cock and he knew how to fuck me without splitting me in half. I looked up, feeling the pain begin and gritted my teeth. I wasn’t sure if I could do this suddenly, and I looked back down at Tom.

“It’s okay.” I said softly through a breath. “Just go slow.” There was a slight smile to his face, more relaxed than I was at this moment. He closed his eyes as I clung to his meaty bare pecs. I felt his hands caressing my ass, just rubbing my bare cheeks as his big dick edged its way into me. I let out a slow breath, letting myself give in to the feeling, and then the pain subsided, and I felt him slide into me deeper until his hands were trapped between my ass and his own thighs.

We didn’t move. I felt his cock flinching in me, his eyes studying me.

“You okay?” He whispered and I buried my head into the crook of his neck. I kept my eyes closed, letting the feeling wash over me as his hands moved up my back and his arms encircled me in another bear hug. He squeezed me tight, whispering in my ear, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” With my eyes closed, I felt the massive muscular body underneath me and feelings of Joe washed over me. He was the only man I have had for the past almost four years. This felt like him, the size, the muscles. But when I opened my eyes it was Tom’s smooth body under me. It was Tom’s blonde face I saw. This felt good yet wrong. This felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Something in me changed, and I growled, pushing myself up, my ass clamping down on his cock in me as I took him all the way inside me deep and sat back on his massive thighs. I grabbed his pecs and glared down at him. “Just fuck me!” I yelled at him, my face contorted in an angry look. I could see the look of shock wash over him briefly but he didn’t respond as I started to move up and down fast and hard. I grunted as I rode him, closing my eyes and taking it, his big dick stretching me. It hurt, but it was good hurt. I didn’t care. I was getting this first fuck out of me.

I used Tom. Sitting there, under me, trying to be nice and kind. He resigned himself to this, letting me pleasure myself on his rod, getting back at him for the times he fucked me hard just to get off. Or so I thought. And then I slapped him hard across the face.

“Fuck me!” I yelled at him, grabbing that thick neck of his. “I need you to FUCK ME!”

Tom’s face tightened and he lurched forward, holding me onto his dick, pulling me into him to stand straight up with me. I gasped at the sudden change in position, feeling his cock punch my insides. A white light went through me as pain seared around my hole. He stood there, with me impaled on his cock, easily holding my light body in his hands and started to fuck me hard, lifting me up and down furiously as he glared at me. His mouth was hanging open, he was moaning lowly, biting his own lip as he concentrated.

“I’ll fuck you alright boy! You want THIS?” He groaned, shifting his feet wider, hooking his arms under my legs and really planting me on his cock. I let out a loud groan as he started to lift me up and down effortlessly, fucking me like a rag doll, standing in front of the chair. He plunged into me deeper than ever as I clung to his thick neck, my legs spread out over his bulging biceps. He was merciless, relentless, giving me what I just begged for without any care, like the old Tom. “This what you want boy?!” He yelled. The possessive Tom. The masculine rough man that always took over. The huge Viking that loved to show off his size and strength over his boy.

He watched me bounce off his body, his face frowning, as he rough handled me in the air before he took a couple steps forward and lowered me onto the floor on my back with a force that reminded me of the days at his house. That need. That owning of me. I held onto his neck still, my legs now pushed up over his shoulders. I heard his jeans hitting the floor as he moved his legs, but his dick never left me. His hands came off me and grabbed my legs and pushed them towards my face to let himself sink further into me. I arched, and groaned, clasping the massive bare thighs near me as he pinned my legs back beside my ears. And then he started to fuck me again. Harder than before. Harder than ever.

“Is this what you need?” He roared over me, drilling into me fast and furiously. I could see he was mad, his hips moving in lightning speed as he plowed me. I grabbed at him, clawing at his skin, feeling his body over me as I urged him on.

“Yes! Do it! Fuck me! Harder!” I yelled back. I was writhing under him, clutching at him, holding his ass, scratching his back, punching his chest, clawing at his cheek until he reared up on his knees and grabbed my hands, pinning my arms over my head with one hand and grabbed my cock in his free hand.

“Yeah boy. This is what you want.” He started fucking me again, jerking me off at the same time as I laid there under him, helpless. He was plowing me, using me like a toy like he had done before. I closed my eyes, his hand working me expertly as the feeling of his actions took over. “You missed this didn’t you?!”

I stared up at him, his face in a fury, his eyes looking down at me. He was every bit the conquering Viking again, raping my ass and giving me what I needed. I closed my eyes, taking it, my body moving in rhythm with his assault. But even in this rampage, I calmed down and let myself go as I felt myself on the brink of explosion in his masterful grip.

I scrunched my face and took it, letting the sensation of my incoming orgasm wash over me. Tom’s hand around my shaft knew the angle. He pumped it like a pro as his cock moved like a pleasuring piston in my hole. I lifted my ass off the floor, Tom’s hand moving with me.

“Come on boy. Shoot that load for me. Show me how much you missed your Daddy!” He yelled at me. Hearing that name did it. I moaned and felt the first rope of my cum erupt from my cock.

I opened my eyes to see the white stream fly out of my cock. It had been 107 days since I had sex. And my body responded in an uncontrollable way. A torrent of cum erupted from me. Rope after rope of thick white liquid poured out of my cock as he kept drilling my ass. I shook violently as it shot out, hitting my face, my chest, my arm, the floor, pooling in the crevice of my pecs, down my abs into my belly button. I couldn’t believe the amount of cum that continued to flow from me. My ass seemed to clamp around Tom’s cock in spasms, but he kept fucking me and his fist kept pulling on my dick, letting every copious amount of my juice leave my writhing body. I saw him look up as it must have felt like a vice grip around him, his mouth open as he moaned out.

“Jesus Christ!” I heard him yell.

I took in the sight of his thick body. His pecs were tight, huge, clamped together as he leaned over me. I could feel his cock, still pumping between my legs, his chest now glistening with sweat. Then he rose up on his knees, grabbing my legs and spreading them wide, almost parallel to the floor and fucked me like a doll. My ass was off the floor as he pumped harder into me and thrust his body forward into me without mercy. He looked back down at me, and I noted how amazing his upper body still looked, shaved smooth, his neck thick and veiny as he pounded my ass like never before.

He grunted with every thrust and let his mouth hang over mine. “Take my load baby!” He grumbled and with one hard shove, he let it explode inside me, lifting me higher off the ground till I was on my shoulders, my legs still split open in his grip. He grunted louder with each hard thrust and each deposit straight into my guts. He shivered a few times, drilling into me deeper, making me moan with the sudden and unexpected thrusts, before he slowly lowered my body back down and let go of my legs. He leaned over me as my legs wrapped around his sweaty waist and he kissed me hard, letting his spit soak into me, practically eating my face as I felt his cock soften inside me.

We both moaned as he withdrew, his body still covering mine. I felt my hole burn as he slid out quickly, leaving it gaping open from his massive dick. I felt like he was leaking out of me, and I suddenly worried about the mess, as if he had tore my asshole wide open from the reawakening. I knew he had dumped a huge load in me. Tom could cum buckets, usually more than once in a row. But today I doubted he was going to try to fuck me again.

I laid under him, my hands on his arms, feeling his triceps flexing as he held his body tentatively over mine panting loudly. Our eyes met and he kissed me again, letting himself lower, his chest coming in contact with my cum soaked one. Our tongues danced together playfully, and I felt myself relaxing again, my hole subsiding, my heart slowing down, but my skin on fire as Tom’s body connected with mine. Our bodies squished together as my hands slid around to his wide back, my legs slid down over his as he rolled sideways on the floor holding me tight to him still in one tangled sticky mess.

Tom’s cock was still hard and pushed against me as we kept kissing frantically, and then our lips broke free. Tom rolled onto his back, wiping his forehead with his hand as I rolled the opposite way, flopping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.

I could hear his panting along with mine, felt the leaking of his cum from my torn-up ass as my own cum dripped down the sides of my body. We laid there, side by side, my leg draped over his, the top of his jeans just below his knee under me. The still of the air enveloped us. The sounds of the outside coming into focus. And just the sounds of our breathing, until Tom finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I sat up, looking at his heaving chest, his big body laying on my floor in his half dressed state. His upper body naked, a few red lines from my fingers showing on his rippling chest, his jeans crumpled around his big calves, his cock now somewhat deflating and lying to the left side on his massive upper thigh.

“You okay? That was too rough.” He turned his head towards me, those blue eyes looking concerned. “I didn’t hurt you?”

I actually smiled at him. “No.” I said simply, seeing his face soften as he stared back at me. “I needed that. So, thank you.” I said with a sad smile. Then his eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, looking away from me again.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” He said again, and then sat up abruptly, folding his hands in front of him, slumping his wide shoulders forward.

This time it was me that put a hand on his solid back, and I moved beside him, resting my head on his right arm, folding my arm around his bicep. “It’s okay. Trust me.”

But he shook his head and faced forward. “No, it’s not.” He sat there for a moment before he turned to me and opened his eyes. He looked at me differently, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You should know that I’m seeing someone.”

I froze. I hadn’t thought about that scenario. I hadn’t imagined that Tom had someone else. I didn’t even ask, didn’t even take that into account. I was only thinking of myself, and my needs. In my own head I never pictured Tom with someone else.

I sat there looking back at him, not knowing what to say. And Tom didn’t say anything either.