Questions Answered
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
Lecture dragged today. Every minute felt like ten, my professor's words blending into a meaningless drone. All I could think about was the dream I'd had. The roughness. Casper's hands gripping my hair, tugging me back, the force of him shoving inside me with a rawness that sent chills down my spine just recalling it. It wasn’t like Casper at all, at least not the Casper I'd experienced in real life. He was always so controlled, methodical, careful. But the Casper in my dream had been wild, primal, a complete contrast to the composed gymnast I'd come to know.
And God, I'd loved it.
Admitting that made something surge in my stomach and my face flush right there in the middle of class. I glanced around quickly, paranoid someone had noticed, but the other students looked as bored and uninterested as usual. I shifted in my seat, my jeans suddenly feeling tighter, a pressure building between my legs as I replayed the scenes from the dream. Casper pressing my face into the mattress, whispering commands, taking me in ways I'd never imagined but apparently craved.
My mind wandered unbidden to Mason. That single drunken night we’d shared still lingered in my thoughts, surfacing unexpectedly. He’d been rough too, different from Casper but similar in ways I was now becoming increasingly aware of. Mason had pushed my boundaries, grabbing and holding and using my mouth with a kind of confidence that was intoxicating. Raw and unrefined. Nothing graceful. Nothing soft. Just pure, hungry force. It had left me shaken and desperate for more, even though I hadn't admitted it to myself until now.
Is that what I really wanted? Roughness? Control stripped away, someone else's desires overpowering mine, pushing me past hesitation and fear? The thought felt dangerous, reckless, but undeniably thrilling.
I wished, not for the first time, that I had a gay friend I could talk to about this stuff. Irina was supportive and kind, but there was no way I could bring this up to her. The few gay guys I knew on campus were acquaintances at best, and none of them felt approachable enough to unload my messy, complicated questions onto. I was alone in this, spinning through desires and confusions with no one to ground me.
Almost no one.
Mason’s face popped back into my thoughts. He wasn't gay, at least, he’d never indicated anything beyond girls, but he knew sex. He understood desire. And weirdly, Mason was approachable in his own abrasive, teasing way. Maybe I could ask him without revealing too much. Frame it as curiosity, something vague, something I’d heard. Mason might make fun of me, but he'd also answer honestly. Probably too honestly.
I chewed the idea over, my knee bouncing nervously beneath the desk as the professor droned on. Could I really trust Mason to keep it casual? Would he suspect something more? My stomach knotted anxiously. He was all I had. He wasn't perfect, not even close, but right now Mason was my best shot at understanding these desires churning inside me.
Class ended, and I stood, gathering my stuff. I’d talk to Mason tonight. I had no other choice.
When I got back to the dorm that evening, Mason was exactly where I’d expected him to be, sprawled lazily across his bed, earbuds half-in and the muted glow of his laptop illuminating his face. He glanced up briefly as I entered, offering his usual casual greeting.
“Yo, Eli. Done being a responsible human for the day?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, dropping my bag onto the floor. My heartbeat quickened as the silence thickened between us. I stood awkwardly by my bed, trying to muster the courage to ask what I’d spent all day agonizing over. The questions felt heavy on my tongue, too clumsy and personal to say out loud. But I had to try.
“Hey, Mason…” I started.
He lifted an eyebrow, pulling out an earbud and fixing me with a curious stare. “Uh-oh. What's up?”
I hesitated, heat rising to my face. “Can I ask you something?”
Mason swung his legs around, sitting up and giving me his full attention. He seemed amused by my hesitation. “Sure, man. Fire away.”
I drew a breath and dove straight in. “What do you know about rough sex?”
Mason's eyes widened slightly, surprise quickly shifting into a cocky smirk. “Rough sex, huh? That's an interesting choice of topic, especially for you.”
I shrugged, fighting to keep my voice steady and casual. “I'm just curious. Like… what exactly does rough sex entail?”
He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this more than he should have. “Depends. There's a lot of ways to do rough. Like, you mean spanking, choking, hair-pulling, that kinda stuff?”
“Yeah,” I managed, cheeks burning. “Stuff like that. Or even…rougher?”
He laughed lightly again, shifting forward on his mattress. “Damn, Eli. Didn’t expect this kind of curiosity out of you. But alright.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, rough oral is one thing. Girls can get into it if you hold their heads down a bit. Y’know, really control the rhythm. Spit gets everywhere, it’s messy, and usually, it’s pretty damn hot. If they're into it, obviously.”
“Messy?” I echoed dumbly.
“Yeah, messy,” he confirmed, amused. “Spit, drool, sometimes tears if you're really going at it. The whole thing is about control. Taking it. Not asking.”
The words sent fire surging through me, memories and dreams mingling in my mind. I forced myself to stay composed, to keep pressing. “And when it’s…actual sex? How rough is normal?”
“Normal?” Mason laughed outright now, leaning back comfortably. “Normal’s whatever gets her off. But yeah, hair pulling, holding wrists down, slapping her ass or thighs…all pretty standard. The trick is knowing how much she wants and when to back off.”
I nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “But how do you know how much they want?”
“Body language. How they sound. If she pushes back into you, begs you to keep going, that’s a pretty clear sign. Some girls want you to go hard. Like, leave a mark kind of hard. But they have to trust you first.”
I swallowed hard. “Trust?”
He raised an eyebrow at my nervous tone. “Yeah, man, trust. Rough sex isn't about hurting someone, it's about pushing boundaries safely. She’s trusting you to know where to stop. That’s part of what makes it hot. The risk, the intensity. But you have to have trust, or it’s just fucked up.”
I took a shaky breath, my mind spinning with possibilities, images from the dream flooding back. “What about…talking? Do you usually talk during it?”
Mason’s smirk widened. “Talking’s half the fun. Doesn’t have to be complicated. Stuff like, ‘take it,’ or ‘you like that?’ or telling her how good she feels. Some girls like hearing dirtier stuff, being called names. But again, only if you know she wants it.”
My chest tightened, excitement mixed with anxiety. “Do you…hit? Or bite?”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You're really diving deep, aren't you? Yeah, biting can be good. Usually softer spots, neck or shoulders. Slaps are fine, too, as long as they're not too hard. Again, it's all about reading her. If you slap and she moans, you know you’re on the right track.”
I must've been staring intently, because Mason leaned forward suddenly, eyes narrowed in playful suspicion. “Dude, you seem way too invested in this. You got something you wanna tell me?”
I jolted, quickly shaking my head. “No! I mean—no, I’m just curious. I don’t have anyone else to ask about this stuff.”
He grinned, amused by my discomfort. “Sure, sure. Well, I'm flattered you're coming to me for advice.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop my blush deepening. “Just figured you had more…experience.”
Mason settled back, hands behind his head now, relaxing again. “You're not wrong. And for the record, rough sex is fucking awesome. If you've never tried it, you're missing out.”
I swallowed again, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice. “So, it's better than…regular sex?”
“Not necessarily better. Just different. More intense, more primal. But regular sex can be hot as hell too.” Mason’s mouth curled into a lazy grin as he leaned forward a little. “But when it’s rough, everything feels sharper. Harder thrusts, harder breathing. You don’t stop every two seconds to adjust a pillow or whisper something sweet. You just…take. And you don’t give them time to think about what’s coming next.”
I swallowed hard. “So you just…keep going?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, eyes bright with the memory of whatever he was thinking about. “You keep a grip on them and you don’t let up. Maybe you pull her hair to keep her face down. Maybe you hold her hips so she can’t move. If she wants it rough, she’ll get loud, she’ll claw at the sheets, she’ll beg for more. And you don’t slow down until you feel her go limp from it.”
The way he said it made my skin tingle. “And if she…gags or cries a bit?”
“That’s part of it too,” he replied easily. “Spit everywhere, tears in her eyes, her throat working hard to take it. If she’s into it, it’s the hottest thing in the world. You see her drooling on you and you don’t even care. You keep holding her head, you keep her there, you make sure she knows you’re in charge.”
He leaned back again, smirk deepening, his eyes on me now in a way that made my throat tighten. “It’s not the kind of thing you really understand until you’ve been there.”
The silence lingered between us for a few seconds, charged and heavy. Mason watched me closely, eyes narrowed just slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a teasing smile.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he said finally. “You were practically interrogating me a minute ago. Run out of questions?”
I shrugged awkwardly, my throat dry. “I guess…I don’t know. Maybe.”
He chuckled lightly, still watching me. “Come on. You’ve been asking all these questions like you’re studying for a test or something. But you know, with stuff like this, you won’t really get it until you feel it for yourself.”
My pulse sped up, blood rushing hot under my skin. Mason’s voice had lowered slightly, becoming softer, quieter, and yet somehow more intense. His eyes locked onto mine, never wavering, as if he was daring me to look away. I didn’t.
“I mean,” he continued, his grin slowly spreading, “all this talking is just theory. It doesn’t compare to actually feeling it firsthand.”
I swallowed hard, tension pooling low in my stomach. “Yeah, I guess not,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mason sat up straighter, leaning forward toward the edge of the bed. “So, do you wanna know what it feels like?” His voice was playful but carried a quiet intensity. “I can show you better than I can explain it. All this talk has actually made me pretty horny.”
My breath hitched, heartbeat hammering in my chest. Was he serious, or was this just another one of Mason’s jokes, his endless teasing to see if he could embarrass me?
“What do you mean?” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady.
Mason laughed quietly, his eyes still fixed intently on mine. “Exactly what it sounds like. You’ve asked enough questions, Eli. Might as well stop talking and just show you.”
I stared at him, heart pounding, mouth dry. I didn’t respond—not because I didn’t want to, but because the words wouldn’t come. Mason seemed to understand my silence perfectly, because his smile deepened, turning into something more knowing, more confident.
Slowly, deliberately, he stood and stepped toward me, closing the small gap between us. My body felt frozen, every muscle rigid as Mason reached forward and cupped my crotch firmly through my jeans. My breath caught sharply.
“You seem curious enough,” he murmured softly, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “Let’s see how curious you really are.”
Before I could answer, Mason hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down casually. I inhaled sharply as I saw him exposed, cock already thickening, so big and inviting in front of me. My hesitation faded, desire overriding uncertainty. Without thinking, my hand reached out, my fingers curling around his length. Mason chuckled softly, a low, knowing sound that told me he understood exactly what I wanted.
Mason’s laugh still hung in the air as he kicked off his sweats completely, leaving them in a heap by the bed. He peeled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, standing there for a moment in front of me, bare and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, and I could feel it swelling under my fingers, hardening by the second as he looked down at me with that half-smirk, half-dare.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking to the rest of my clothes. He didn’t say a word, but the message was clear enough. My pulse kicked up hard as I reached for the hem of my T-shirt, tugged it off in one motion, and dropped it on the floor. Mason’s gaze followed me, steady and unflinching, as I fumbled with the button on my jeans.
I hesitated for a breath before pushing them down and stepping out of them. When I slid off my underwear, a faint grin tugged at his mouth, like he was amused at how quickly I was stripping for him.
For a moment, the room went quiet. I couldn’t hear anything, just the sound of our breathing and the low hum of the radiator. Mason stepped forward and closed the small space between us. He reached out, one hand brushing my cheek, the other sliding into my hair, his fingers curling until he had a solid hold. With one firm tug, he tilted my head back so my eyes locked with his.
“You ready to see what rough feels like?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, but there was weight in the words.
I nodded, barely breathing.
Mason grinned, the expression sharp but not cruel. He shifted his grip slightly, guiding my head lower as he brought his cock to my lips. The head of it brushed over my mouth, smearing a bead of pre-cum across my lower lip.
“Open,” he said simply.
I obeyed, parting my lips as wide as I could. Mason pushed forward slowly at first, just enough for me to taste him. Warm skin and the faint tang of sweat filled my mouth. He fed me more, an inch at a time, until the weight of him pressed against the back of my tongue.
My chest tightened as his grip on my hair firmed, pulling me forward in small, deliberate tugs. The tip of his cock pressed deeper, sliding past the back of my tongue. My throat tightened reflexively, my eyes starting to water as he pushed a little further.
Mason groaned, low and approving. “That’s it. Take it.”
The words made my stomach clench. His hips gave the first sharp snap forward, and spit spilled from the corner of my mouth, trailing down my chin as I gasped around him.
Mason’s grip on my hair tightened, his fingers digging in at my scalp as he set the pace. His hips pushed forward again, harder this time, the head of his cock sliding across the back of my tongue and pressing into my throat before easing back just far enough for me to catch a ragged breath. Then he drove in again, faster now, testing how much I could handle.
The mess started almost immediately. My lips couldn’t keep up with the weight of him moving in and out. Spit slipped over my chin, thick strings stretching toward my chest as I tried to swallow around him. Mason’s voice dropped lower, rougher, the words carrying that effortless confidence that always made me feel smaller beneath him.
“Good. That’s it. Keep your mouth open for me.”
I couldn’t do anything but obey. My jaw was already aching, the muscles straining as he fed me more of himself. Each thrust forced him deeper, the blunt pressure at my throat making my eyes sting until tears blurred my vision. He didn’t stop.
He used the hold on my hair like a handle, pulling my head down into him when he wanted more, letting me ease back just enough to suck in a shaky breath, then drawing me forward again. His hips found a rhythm, sharper now, confident, wet sounds filling the space between his low groans and my muffled breaths.
Mason’s free hand brushed my cheek, his thumb smearing spit across my skin like he was spreading it there on purpose. He glanced down at me and gave a satisfied smirk before focusing again on the movement of my mouth around him.
The sting in my eyes, the drool running down my throat, the ache in my jaw—it all melted into one blur of sensation. Mason’s voice cut through it, steady and unrelenting.
“Yeah. Just like that. Take it.”
Another thrust buried him almost completely, the head of his cock forcing my throat wider. My gag reflex flared, breath catching, and Mason held me there, his grip steady, waiting until I fought the urge and swallowed around him. The sound he made then, half groan and half laugh, sent a fresh rush of excitement through my body.
“That’s what I like,” he murmured. “Looks like you like it too.”
Mason kept the rhythm steady, his hips snapping forward, his cock driving in and out of my throat with purpose. Each movement forced me to surrender a little more of myself to him, my body loosening under his control. He shifted his stance slightly, bracing one hand on my shoulder for leverage while his other stayed locked in my hair.
“Deeper,” he said, his voice low but clear.
He pulled me into him again, and this time didn’t let up. My nose pressed into the warm skin of his stomach, his cock filling my throat until I couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed freely down my face now, the sting mixing with the wetness already covering my chin. He eased out just enough for me to suck in a sharp gasp before thrusting again, harder, pushing me right back to that point of choking.
Spit ran in heavy strands from my lips, dripping to the floor, slicking my chest. Mason didn’t wipe it away; he only looked down, smirked at the sight, and pushed my head forward again.
“You’re doing fine,” he muttered, breath uneven now. “Keep taking it.”
His cock hit the back of my throat again and again, each push rougher, each pull on my hair firmer. My jaw ached, my throat burned, but I stayed there, letting him use my mouth the way he wanted.
He started talking more, voice slipping into a rough, teasing tone. “This is what you were after all along with those questions wasn’t it? Letting me fuck your mouth like this. You’ve wanted it.”
I couldn’t answer, not with him holding me there, his cock filling every inch of space. The only sounds were wet gulps and shallow breaths between thrusts. Mason’s hips rolled faster, his abs tensing as he moved, his breath quickening above me.
“Yeah,” he groaned, voice thicker now. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
He held my head still and thrust deeper, faster, until every push made my throat clench around him. His cock pulsed in my mouth, the taste of him getting stronger, heavier, every time I swallowed. My body shivered under the roughness, a strange mix of ache and need leaving me almost dizzy as Mason kept using me, steady and relentless.
Mason slowed his thrusts just enough for me to drag in a sharp breath, my chest rising and falling fast. My jaw ached and my throat burned, spit and tears streaking my face. He wasn’t done. His hand stayed tight in my hair as he held me still, his cock sliding in and out with deliberate, grinding strokes, making sure I felt every inch.
He tilted his head, eyes fixed on me, that cocky smirk still there but his voice dipping low and rough. “I know Casper’s been training your other hole too lately.”
My whole body went rigid, his words slicing through the haze in my head.
Mason’s grin widened. “I’ve been watching.”
Heat flooded my face so fast I was sure he could see it. Mason had seen that too. Not just the blowjobs, and the rimjobs, he’d seen Casper fuck me. Every humiliating, thrilling moment of it—Mason had seen. He’d been back to watch again! The thought made my stomach twist and my cock twitch with sudden, sharp need.
Mason gave a little tug on my hair, forcing me to look up at him. “You want me to show you what it’s like when I go rough back there?”
I blinked at him, heart hammering, throat tight around his cock, no words coming. The idea sparked something hot and undeniable in my chest.
Without thinking, I pulled back, gasping, spit stringing from my lips to the head of his cock. I turned, moving on instinct, planting my hands on the floor and arching forward, presenting my ass silently.
Mason let out a sharp laugh, half surprise, half approval. “Didn’t have to ask you twice.”
He stepped behind me, hands clamping on my hips. I felt his cock brush over me, smearing spit from earlier as he looked down at me with that same wicked grin. Then he leaned forward, gathering spit in his mouth, and let it drop right onto my hole. The warm stream hit, slicking me, and his thumb spread it roughly, working it in with one short press.
Then came the blunt head of his cock, pressing hard. Mason didn’t ease me in. He shoved, steady and strong, pushing deep until the air caught in my throat and my eyes squeezed shut. The stretch burned, sharp and perfect, my body trembling under the force of it.
“Yeah,” Mason muttered, his voice heavy with satisfaction as his hands gripped tighter, “that’s what I’m talking about.”
Mason wasted no time. The moment he felt himself seated deep, he pulled back almost all the way and then slammed forward again. The slap of skin echoed in the small room. My breath caught in a jagged gasp, my fingers curling against the floor as he set a brutal rhythm. Every thrust felt like it split me open, each one harder than the last, his hands digging into my hips to keep me where he wanted me.
I gritted my teeth, a sound caught between a whimper and a moan slipping out as he drove into me again. My cock jerked against my stomach, every nerve in my body screaming from the pressure and the pleasure colliding all at once.
“Yeah,” Mason groaned, his voice rough with exertion. “Take it. Take all of it, roomie!”
He leaned over me, his chest brushing my back, his breath hot against my ear. The weight of him pressed me down further, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arched even more. The pull sent a sharp jolt through me, half pain, half something that made my cock strain harder, leaking onto the floor beneath me.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” he growled softly. “I can feel you tightening up every time I go harder.”
I let out a muffled sound, unable to form words. Mason smirked, like my silence was answer enough, and slapped my ass with his free hand, the sting immediate and sharp.
The smack made me jolt forward, but his grip on my hips kept me from escaping even an inch. He struck again, harder this time, his palm connecting with a loud crack that made my breath hitch.
“Stay still,” he muttered.
He started moving faster, each thrust deep and relentless, the wet slap of his cock driving into me filling the room. The burn of being used that way melted into something hotter, something overwhelming. I could barely keep myself upright, my arms trembling as Mason pounded into me, rough and raw, his grunts growing louder with every push.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said, his voice sharp and low, his hands locking down on me as he drove himself in to the hilt again. “I can see why Casper’s been keeping you so busy.”
Mason’s rhythm turned relentless, the kind that left no space for thought. Every thrust felt like it drove the breath right out of me, my arms shaking as I struggled to hold myself up. He kept one hand twisted in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to keep me off balance, while the other stayed locked on my hip, dragging me back to meet every rough push.
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice thick and uneven. “You’re a good little bitch for your Bro, aren’t you?”
He shifted his stance and suddenly slammed forward with a force that made me cry out. The sound came sharp and raw, muffled against the crook of my arm, but I couldn’t stop it. My cock pressed against my stomach, dripping freely onto the floor, the pressure building inside me so tight I thought I might lose control without even touching myself.
Mason slapped my ass again, harder than before, the sound cracking through the room. My body jerked from the sting, but he didn’t give me a second to recover. He followed the slap with another thrust, even deeper, his hips smacking into me with a wet, brutal rhythm.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice pitched low, almost a growl. “You’re getting exactly what you ordered… and then some.”
My breath came ragged, my fingers slipping on the floor as I tried to steady myself. The burn from the roughness blurred into a steady pulse of pleasure, so intense it was almost frightening.
Mason leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back, his breath hot and heavy against my neck. He tugged my hair harder, pulling my head up so I had no choice but to feel every inch of him sliding in, stretching me wide. I yelled out so loud I was sure the neighbors would hear. I pushed my head into the bed but Mason pulled my hair back again, forcing my head up.
“Louder,” he murmured. “Let everyone hear you.”
The words sent another jolt through me, and I groaned, my voice breaking into something closer to a whimper when he slammed into me again. Mason didn’t stop; his pace only got faster, his thrusts short and sharp, his fingers digging so hard into my hips I knew I’d feel the bruises later.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his breath hot against my ear, “this is so good.”
And all I could do was take it, my body giving in to every rough, merciless stroke, the world narrowing to the sound of him pounding into me and the way my cock twitched helplessly with every thrust.
Mason was a furnace behind me, heat radiating off his body as his pace grew harder, more frantic. Each thrust slammed through me with a raw force that bordered on violent, his hips crashing into mine so sharply I could hear the slap of skin over my own strangled sounds. My arms buckled, and I dropped to my elbows, my forehead nearly touching the floor, but Mason only grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back up, refusing to let me collapse.
“You’re not done,” he grunted, breath rough and hot against my ear. “Stay up for me.”
He jerked my hair again, making me arch. The angle shifted, and suddenly the thrusts landed deeper, the blunt stretch of him hitting a spot that made my cock jerk wildly. I gasped, a broken sound, and Mason felt it. I knew he felt it.
“Yeah,” he said, voice dark and satisfied. “Right there.”
He slapped my ass again, the sting echoing through the room, then dug his fingers into the sore skin like he owned it. He was relentless now, a pounding rhythm that bordered on too much but had me pushing back against him anyway, desperate for more.
My cock leaked steadily, wet streaks marking the floor beneath me. Each thrust made me groan louder, each burn of his cock inside me tightening the knot of lust in my gut.
Mason’s breath grew jagged, his movements rougher, almost erratic, his grip on my hips turning bruising. “You’re taking this so damn well,” he muttered. “Didn’t think you could, but look at you.”
The praise, sharp as it was, sent another tremor through me. My moans turned to short, broken cries as he slammed into me over and over, my body rocked forward with every thrust.
Mason leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear. “Gonna fill you up,” he rasped, the words thick with lust. “You want that?”
The question made my head spin. I didn’t answer out loud, but the way I pushed back against him said enough. Mason groaned, the sound rough and guttural, and thrust even harder, hips snapping fast and unforgiving, driving himself in to the hilt as the tension in his body reached its peak.
Mason’s pace turned punishing, the kind of rhythm that felt like it could shake the whole room. My breath came in ragged gasps, the force of each thrust knocking the sound out of me. His hands were everywhere. One yanked my hair so my back arched painfully. The other gripped my hip like he was holding me in place for his own pleasure.
The burn in my ass had blurred into something else entirely. Every rough push now sent electricity shooting through me, pleasure so sharp it was almost painful. My cock hung heavy and leaking, each thrust from Mason making it twitch helplessly, leaving slick streaks across my stomach and the floor beneath me.
“God, you definitely wanted this,” Mason muttered, his voice thick and ragged, hips still pounding. “You took every inch rough and raw like you were meant for it.”
The words sent a dizzy wave through me, my whole body buzzing. I groaned, the sound breaking apart into something high and breathless when he slapped my ass again. The sting made me jolt forward, but he pulled me right back into him, his cock driving deep enough that my fingers clawed at the floor just to stay steady.
“Don’t you fucking pull away,” he growled, thrusting so hard my knees slipped on the hardwood.
I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
Mason’s thrusts grew erratic, his breathing rough and uneven. A deep groan ripped out of him as he slammed into me one last time and stayed there, buried as far as he could go. His body locked against mine, his hips grinding forward as I felt it happen—warmth spilling inside me, filling me in heavy, pulsing waves.
He cursed under his breath, the sound low and strained, and thrust again, slower this time, pressing the last of it into me before finally stilling.
For a moment all I could hear was his breathing, harsh and uneven, his chest pressed to my back as sweat dripped from him onto my shoulders. He stayed there for several seconds, cock still deep inside me, his weight heavy and grounding, before he finally pulled back.
The slide left me feeling empty and raw, my body trembling. Mason slapped my ass once, hard, the crack of it sharp in the quiet room. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he muttered, voice rough from exertion.
I stayed on my hands and knees, catching my breath, my body aching and covered in sweat — mine and Mason’s. My head spun with what had just happened, with how much I’d loved every second of it, and with how much more confused I suddenly felt now that it was over.
The room felt strangely still once Mason stepped back, the sound of his footsteps moving toward the bathroom breaking the heavy quiet. My arms gave out and I let myself sink down, my cheek pressing to the cool floor. My whole body was shaking, my thighs sore, my ass stinging where his hand had left its mark.
I stayed there for a few seconds, breathing hard, trying to piece together what had just happened. Mason’s weight had been everywhere, his voice in my ear, his hands controlling every inch of me. And I’d loved it. The roughness, the pain, the way he’d taken whatever he wanted from me without hesitation, it lit something inside me that I hadn’t felt before.
I reached back, touching where he’d been, still feeling the soreness deep inside. My cock twitched as my fingers brushed across my swollen rim, slick with the cum he’d left there. My stomach turned hot at the thought of how easily he’d filled me, how I’d begged for more without saying a single word.
Mason hadn’t looked back when he left, and that unsettled me more than anything. He hadn’t said a word about what it meant, hadn’t cracked one of his usual jokes as he walked out. He’d just finished and gone.
I sat up slowly, my legs heavy and unsteady, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The confusion started to creep in, replacing the haze of arousal.
Mason had admitted he’d been watching me with Casper again. That single line kept replaying in my head. How much had he seen? Every time I’d bent over, every moment Casper had pushed into me… Had Mason been there the whole time, getting off on it, waiting for his turn?
And what about that night, the night he came home drunk? Had he remembered more than he let on?
I rubbed my face with both hands, still sitting on the floor, cum cooling on my skin. I couldn’t deny I was satisfied, but the questions tangled around each other until I couldn’t tell what I felt most: aroused, exposed, or completely confused.
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