There I was, fully naked, ass spread, the cheeks mountainous and slicked with oil, my hole puckering around his thumb.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, nodding through the pane.
I’d never seen myself like this before, so on display, in complete submission, my face broken, shattered.
I wanted him. More than that. I needed him.
A full smile broke across his face.
“More?” he asked.
I nodded. “More.”
And then…
“Let me see you.”
He turned crimson, suddenly bashful, shaking his head. “No. This is about you.”
I glanced down at his body, every sinew straining beneath the thin layers of his exercise gear. It was too much. I needed to see it.
“Please,” I pressed, my voice unrecognizable.
Desperate. Breathy. I was practically begging.
Reaching for the hem, he slipped the shirt over his head, pits gloriously revealed before he released his arms along his sides, flexing.
“Jesus.”
He cast his eyes downward, blushing, as if somehow he had no idea how insanely gorgeous he was.
“Thanks.”
It was better than I imagined, his body—the hard-won form of an active older man. He was just as lean as I’d thought, impossibly all muscle and no fat, skin slightly beaten by the sun. His pecs were pronounced and large atop his stomach, a long trail of ripples extending down his stomach to his hip bones, the tufts of his pubes peeking out from the waistband of his shorts.
My dick tightened between my legs.
How the fuck was this guy half naked before me?
And then he shifted closer, placing his hand back on my hole, his mouth just beside my ear.
“Now be a good boy,” he whispered, “and relax.”
He slid his thumb back inside me, pressing lightly down within.
I’d never felt anything like it, the sensation sending shots straight to my cock, beautifully strained and stretched downward along the rim of the table.
He extended his free fingers, letting them run all the way down my cock, tapping at the underside where the foreskin met the piss slit.
It felt odd at first, and then amazing, the way he alternated between tapping inside my hole and tapping my dick, willing the pre-cum from its head, milking me with every gesture.
I moaned, any semblance of even breath lost. It was that feeling of having to piss, or being about to piss— lingering, insistent, like all the feeling in your cock was concentrated in one spot.
“How’s that?” he asked, our eyes still locked.
I shook my head. “So fucking good.” My eyes narrowed. “What are you doing to me?”
That smirk returned. “Healing you.”
I’d somehow thought myself exempt from anal pleasure, now living proof of exactly the opposite.
I’d merely just needed the right person. To be shown how.
“You’ve got the most perfect ass,” he said quietly, moving aside so I could see myself in the mirror once again.
Through that reflection, through Leo’s eyes, I believed him. I did have the perfect ass. I did look beautiful, so exposed and open. It was a position of submission, perhaps, but it didn’t feel like that. No, this felt different.
Powerful.
I was at once on the brink of orgasm and yet restrained, his touch firm and yet just relaxed enough that I was safely outside the bounds of release.
Good, I thought to myself. I didn’t want this to end.
And then he shifted, thumb still within, reaching his free hand down to my dick, releasing it from the edge of the table so it pointed out in front of me again, taking it in his hand.
I gasped. It was the first time he’d held it at all.
And then he began stroking me, feeling his way from base to tip—lightly, with the same gentle touch as within.
My body shook, the sweet relief of his hand riding my cock.
“What…the…fuckkkk,” I said.
My entire body was goosebumps, every nerve standing on end, the cool of the room causing my nipples to tighten. My arms strained from holding myself up, but I hardly noticed. Instead, I was too overwhelmed by what he was doing to me.
My face contorted, eyes narrowed. I was being…edged.
I was at the precipice, and then…
“Stop—” I said.
He instantly stilled.
It felt good—too good. “Not yet.”
He lowered his face back beside mine, shaking his head slowly, assuredly.
“No. Not yet.”
Slowly, gingerly, he removed his hand from my dick and the other from my hole.
“Turn over,” he whispered.
I was confused. I didn’t want to change positions, but I acquiesced, letting him guide me along the table. I rested my back down, facing upwards, my legs placed just so on either side. I was still plenty exposed—my legs spread, dick free and pulsing against my stomach, hole spread wide—but with the added benefit of him in my full view.
Fuck, he was beautiful.
But it wasn’t enough that he was shirtless. My eyes traced down his body to his shorts, the faintest bulge evident.
Fuck. He was hard, the outline of his dick evident through the shorts.
I wanted to see more of him. All of him.
But before I could make another plea, he positioned himself between my legs, bulge out of view, his face framed by the peaks of my knees.
He replaced his hand, grazing along my opening again, this time with his middle finger.
And then he pushed inside, just that one finger, pressing directly upwards—a new angle, towards my balls. He found that button again, that node, clear as day now even if I couldn’t have identified it mere hours before.
And then, ever so softly, he began tapping within me, hitting that node.
My dick jumped, an involuntary reaction.
“Fuck.”
“You feel that?” he asked.
I nodded back.
He tapped a bit harder, more insistently, my dick pushing out more and more pre-cum until there was a full pool atop my stomach, glistening in the dim light.
“Yeahhhh,” he cooed, egging me on.
It was the most generous thing—him beneath me, not touching himself—hell, barely undressed—riding my prostate with the greatest patience, building something inside me I hadn’t imagined possible.
It was like he was inflating a small balloon of pleasure deep within my hole, willing it forward.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he began thrusting in and out of me—deliberate, precise motions, lightly pressing that node. It might have felt aggressive, but it didn’t. No, it was the opposite. Firm, but gentle.
Massage.
Just like every other thing, he was riding me just up to the point of resistance and release, guiding me through.
“Yeah, Bryce,” he said quietly, eyes locked on mine. “Be a good boy and open up.”
I nodded, giving in, all of it happening involuntarily. The more he rode my prostate, the more relaxed my hole became, my lips parting wider and wider, creating space.
I glanced down at the mess I was making, my dick pulsing but untouched. In truth, it hardly needed to be; the sensation within me was enough to milk me.
It was even better than being stroked.
Leo pulled out, inviting an almost bratty reaction within me.
Where was he going?
But before I protest, he spoke. “I think you’re ready for more.”
He reached for the massage oil and slicked another finger, placing both fingers back to my hole and for a moment just tickling, teasing it. For a moment, I tensed, wondering if I could handle double. And then, before I knew it, he pressed in, my walls opening for him effortlessly.
He was right. I was ready.
Guys had fingered me in the past, guys with big, rough fingers and long nails, the experience enough to put me off the whole endeavor forever. But Leo’s fingers were smooth despite being so large—soft, warm, sliding in and out of me with ease.
And while I was shocked that I could take more than one finger, I only invited further. No, scratch that. I was desperate for more.
He once again found that node, this time pushing past it.
“Fuckkkkk,” I moaned, abs contracting, my head lifting off the table.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured. “Ride it.”
I was shattered, spread open more than I ever had been, clenching down hard on his fingers, gripping him.
I didn’t know that anything in my ass could feel this good.
And then he massaged within me, not the small thrusts from before, but slow, generous rubs of my prostate within me, working along those few inches with the greatest care.
I was fully leaking, the pre-cum dripping off the sides of my stomach and onto the table.
“I’m gonna add another,” he said quietly.
Okay.
There was something about his way with me, the way he projected absolute certainty, that instilled that same confidence in me.
A dick inside you was one thing. This was different—so precise, as if he was playing an instrument—me—one whose capabilities even I had been unaware of.
And while he wasn’t fucking me, I knew it was bringing some gratification to him too. The bulge in his pants and the expression on his face—intent, caring—told me so.
He removed his two fingers, slicking his hand again before grouping his three fingers in a tripod and placing them against my hole.
After a few small teases, he released, using measured pressure to slide back inside.
“Yes…yes…” he instructed.
My breathing deepened, a long inhale and exhale, my walls expanding as he pressed within, his eyes willing me forward.
An inch, and then another inch, until, finally, he was fully inside.
My body began to quiver, to shake. With three fingers within me, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, a full scale dissolution of self. Sensation shot through my dick and then disseminated throughout my entire body, my ass filled up in a way I could never have imagined, my prostate raging against his hand.
And then I realized it.
He practically had his whole fist inside me.
That very thing had always been so disgusting to me, the videos that popped up on gay porn websites causing me to grimace and look away—now I understood what it could be like, and why it all felt so good.
A hand could fill you up in a way that a dick couldn’t, respond to your body in a way that a dick couldn’t.
This was a deeper connection than fucking.
This was real care.
And this node, it was more than just a node. It was the source of everything.
I shook my head, eyes glassy, wondering how any of this was possible. What he was giving me was remarkable. A gift.
I struggled for words, struggled to articulate what I was feeling. And then I read his expression, his face recognizing the truth of what I couldn’t say.
“I know.”
He reached up, taking my dick in his hand, the gesture causing me to quiver.
“Fuck…Leo…”
I couldn’t stop shaking, my body bucking back and forth, the movement causing his hand to shift even further in.
“You tell me if you get close.”
He began massaging gently inside, those three fingers rubbing up and down along my prostate as he had with two, stroking me with the greatest of care as his hand squeezed my cock, barely shifting.
“I—I—”
And then, just on the brink, he released my dick, barely touching it, leaving me edged.
“Good boy,” he said quietly, nodding at me.
I loved the affirmation.
And so he alternated, massaging me in slow, gentle strokes and then more assertive taps and pounds, and all while merely grazing my dick—not jerking it, but lightly squeezing, that gesture alone riding me right along the edge.
I was dripping into his palm, more than a load’s worth having left my cock already.
Would I even have anything left?
“Leo—I—,” I said, breathless.
“What?” he asked. “Tell me.”
I glanced down at him, imagining once again what was within his shorts, concealed just out of view.
“Lemme see your dick.”
It was a lie. I didn’t just want to see it. I wanted to hold it, to suck it, to give him some of what he was giving me. But seeing it, that was a start.
“No,” he replied, blushing but firm.
“Please,” I begged. “Please.”
He stared back, observing just how desperate I was, how much control he had over me.
“I’ve been a good boy,” I said.
He smiled. “You have…”
“I need it. I need…you.”
And so, still within me, he rose, using his free hand to reach for the waistband of his shorts, gingerly pulling them down until his dick sprung out, revealed, its full length hanging before him.
Fuck.
It was just as I’d thought. His cock was big, beautiful, shaped almost like a baseball bat, wonderfully long, and extending wider at the head.
And he was hard, more than hard. Swollen. Raging.
He looked down at it, bashful. “Now you’ve got me acting up.”
I licked my lips.
“That’s the most beautiful cock,” I said quietly, my eyes flicking between his manhood and his face.
He came closer, cock dangling tantalizingly just above my face, his three fingers still expertly inside me.
“You think so?” he asked.
I nodded, clenching down onto him—my prostate fully engorged, my cock hard and straining against my stomach.
Leo, the dad of my dreams, lumbered above me, his cock just inches from my mouth, the peaks and valleys of his chest tanned and roped with muscle.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to come or stay here forever.
“Can I touch you?”
He hesitated. We had clearly already transgressed his typical boundaries. But that hardly mattered now. Despite his protestations, I knew he wanted it. His cock told me everything I needed to know.
“Can I?”
He held out for what felt like an eternity, until finally he nodded back.
“Okay, boy. You take control.”
And so I extended a hand, enwrapping my fingers around his dick just so, at first only feeling it. It was velvety, sensitive. No, more than sensitive. It was a fully loaded gun. I may have been close, but so was he—remarkably close. One false move and we would both fully combust, lose it, and the whole thing would be over.
He placed his own hand back on my dick, both of us just squeezing the other, riding on the brink of coming, his fingers still totally filling my insides.
I hoped he’d never leave.
The more he tapped, the greater the sensation became, the balloon of pleasure growing ever larger with me.
“Good boy,” he repeated, shaking his head, working his way deeper to the third knuckle.
Part of me wanted to stay here forever, to go on being worked like a puppet, Leo unlocking sensations within me that I’d never come close to understanding before.
But I was so close. I needed it. I needed release. I was nearing the limit of even my own conviction.
“Leo…” I began.
“My boy wants come?”
I nodded up at him.
“Yeah, son,” he replied. “I got you.”
He started stroking me slowly, jerking me so subtly his hand barely moved, but it hardly mattered. I felt everything.
I responded in kind, working the space between his head and his shaft, milking him as carefully as I could.
My eyes darted between his cock and his face—his kind, attentive eyes, laser-focused on me. I lifted my head, ever closer to his dick. I could practically smell it, taste it.
My body clenched tighter, bearing down on him, the intensity building even greater within.
I shook. I quivered.
I raised myself further, another inch, Leo’s dick just before my lips.
And then, finally, I made contact, the slightest graze, the beautiful smell of his cum just beneath my nose.
And then I lost control.
My entire body contracted, the space beneath my dick tightening, Leo’s fingers riding hard within. And then I began to orgasm, my dick shaking within his palm, waiting for my load to shoot out until…
Nothing.
Nothing?
I bucked back and forth, writhing on the table, riding his hand for ten seconds, twenty seconds, longer, coming and coming and coming, a seemingly endless wave of sensations all without one thing.
Jizz.
While my dick was pulsing, my insides contracting, my body shaking, nothing was coming out of me.
No ejaculation.
Fear struck. Was my dick broken?
But any concerns were assuaged by Leo.
“It’s okay…it’s okay…”
He held me tighter, nodding, watching my confused expression as I kept riding the sensation, expecting it to end and instead finding that only it continued.
I squeezed his dick harder, jerked him faster, and just as my dry orgasm was finally nearing its end, a long stream shot out of him, a first slash landing directly across my chest, the most welcome spray.
It was followed by another. And another.
I watched Leo’s broken face, his eyes narrowing, the cheeks of his ass clenching behind him as he, too, bucked back and forth, his cock tight within my fist as he released onto me until I was fully covered with his seed.
He had cracked me half open, every other orgasm I’d had in my life a mere gunshot, this a full-scale nuclear implosion, taking me out along with everything around me.
And all the while, Leo lumbered above me, this body the most beautiful manifestation of a hot older man, shooting his load all over my sweaty, oiled body.
Finally, we both slowed, our bodies stilling, my head finally resting back on the table.
“What the fuckkkkk…”
I couldn’t believe that had happened. What had happened, exactly?
“Welcome back,” Leo said, grinning. And then he lowered himself closer, his face just before mine. “Deep breath.”
I obeyed, completing one long inhale and exhale before he slowly removed his hand, my body finally fully relaxing.
He took his now free hand and grazed it all along my dick, its length jumping one last time—totally spent.
I stared up at him. “What was that?”
“Massage?” Leo said, playing dumb.
I shook my head.
“I’d say you just had a full-body orgasm,” he added, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“But I didn’t come.”
He smiled, a quizzical look on his face. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes, I mean I came, but…” I paused. “Nothing came out.”
He shrugged. “So?”
So?
“When you’re riding the prostate that hard, constricting it, it sort of redirects the orgasm from your dick to…everywhere else. And sometimes people don’t ejaculate.” He paused. “And you didn’t. Although you still managed to make a mess of my table getting there.”
I glanced down at the precum that had dripped down the sides of my body.
“I suppose you’re right.” I sat up. “That was…”
Leo raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“…the most intense orgasm of my life.”
“Good,” he said, as if he were hardly surprised. “And how are the legs feeling?”
Fuck. My legs. I had completely forgotten all about them.
I shifted my hips side to side on the table. They’d released, all the glute work from outside and within undoing whatever fucked up mojo I’d managed earlier in the afternoon.
“My god,” I replied, tentative at first.
He grinned. “Told you you’d be good as new.”
He reached behind him, handing me a towel.
“Let me clean up for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
And with that, he made his way out of the office, shutting the door behind him.
I began wiping down my stomach and my ass, bending my knees to clean along my hole. It was even clearer now. I was fully healed. Fuck.
I rose, only to find myself mildly unsteady on my feet. Thankfully, Leo returned, still fully naked, holding a cup of water.
“Eaaaasy there,” he said, setting me back down on the table. “Be a good boy and drink this,” he instructed.
I took a swig greedily, face flushed. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
He reached a hand to my chest to wipe off a remaining slash of come, smirking. “I think you more than repaid the favor.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think anything could repay that.”
“Bryce.” He stared me straight in the mug. “You’re gonna be great in the race. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, particularly yourself.”
His words warmed something inside me. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Anytime.”
I smiled back, my body the most relaxed it had been in years. Maybe ever.
This was a…new experience.
“Leo?” I asked, the wheels in my brain turning.
“Yes?”
I hesitated. “Can I…”
He raised his eyebrows again—so brown, so bushy—in expectation.
“…see you again sometime?”
That smile came across his face, the dimples in his cheeks so pronounced.
“Anytime.”
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