Off-Piste Wishes (Jonas)
The afternoon sun had already dipped behind the peaks by the time we finished the last run, leaving the sky streaked with pink and gold. Jeff had been on fire today: his turns were confident, almost aggressive, carving deep grooves in the fresh corduroy. Every time he stopped at the bottom of a pitch, helmet off, beard flecked with snow, cheeks flushed from cold and effort, I had to fight the urge to drag him behind the nearest tree line and kiss him senseless. The gondola incident from yesterday still burned in my memory, his mouth hot and greedy around me, swallowing like he was starving. We had kept things tame on the hill, professional touches only, but the glances we exchanged said everything. By the time we clipped out near the base, the tension between us was thick enough to cut.
I leaned in close while we loaded our skis onto the racks. “Movie night at my place tonight? Marco would hear a pin drop at the farm and might be a little shocked. My studio’s small, but no one’s listening through the walls.”
Jeff’s dark eyes flicked to my mouth, then back up. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
His voice had that low, rough edge that made my cock twitch. We parted ways for a quick shower and change, agreeing on eight. I hurried back to the rental, heart already racing. The place was nothing fancy: a single open room with exposed wooden beams, a compact kitchenette, a fold-out couch that served as both sofa and bed, and one big window overlooking the darkening valley. I straightened the cushions, dimmed the overhead light to a warm glow from the table lamps, queued up some generic action thriller on the laptop connected to the small TV. Popcorn went into the microwave, two cold beers waited in the fridge. Nothing elaborate. The real plan wasn’t the movie.
When the knock came, my pulse jumped. Jeff stepped inside, bringing the crisp mountain air with him. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a dark thermal that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, the outline of his pecs and the dark hair beneath just visible at the neckline. His beard looked freshly trimmed, eyes bright with that same restless hunger I felt coiling in my gut.
“Smells good in here,” he said, nodding toward the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.
“Figured we’d need fuel.” I closed the door behind him, locked it, then stepped right into his space. My hands found his waist, pulling him flush. “But fuel can wait.”
He didn’t argue. His mouth crashed down on mine, beard scraping my scruff, tongue sliding in deep and possessive. I groaned against him, fingers digging into the solid muscle of his back. We kissed like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of hours: wet, hungry, all teeth and heat. His hands roamed lower, palming my ass through my jeans, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth.
We stumbled toward the couch without breaking apart. I pushed him down first, straddling his lap, grinding my already hard cock against the thick bulge in his pants. The friction was maddening through layers of denim. He broke the kiss long enough to yank my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. His big hands spread across my bare chest, thumbs brushing my nipples until they peaked.
“Fuck, Jonas,” he muttered, voice gravel. “Been thinking about this all day.”
“Me too.” I rocked down harder, feeling him throb beneath me. “Movie’s starting, but I don’t give a shit about the plot. Tell me what you want tonight. No holding back. Whatever fantasy’s been running through your head.”
He stilled for a second, dark eyes searching mine. A flush crept up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “Honest?”
“Always.”
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want to rim you. Bury my face in your ass, lick you open until you’re dripping. Then I want to fuck you. Slow at first, then hard. Want to feel you clench around me when I come inside you.”
The words hit me like a punch of pure lust. My cock jerked in my jeans, leaking against the fabric. “Jesus, Jeff. Yes. I want that. Want your tongue in me, your thick cock stretching me, your load deep in my ass.”
His breath hitched. “Then let’s not waste time on the fucking movie.”
He flipped us so fast I barely registered the movement. One second I was on top, the next my back hit the cushions and he was looming over me, peeling my jeans and boxers down in one rough tug. My cock slapped against my stomach, hard and flushed, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. Jeff stripped himself next: thermal yanked off to reveal that glorious hairy chest, broad pecs dusted with dark curls, thick arms flexing as he shoved his pants down. His erection bobbed free, heavy and veined, the head dark and slick.
“Turn over,” he ordered, voice low and commanding in a way that made my hole clench. “On your knees. Ass up.”
I obeyed instantly, knees sinking into the couch, hands braced on the backrest, back arched to present myself. The cool air kissed my skin, but his gaze felt hotter than any sauna. He knelt behind me, big hands spreading my cheeks wide.
“Look at you,” he growled. “So fucking pretty. Smooth cheeks, tight little pink hole. Already twitching for me.”
His breath ghosted over my entrance, making me shiver. Then his tongue—flat, wet, hot—licked a slow, deliberate stripe from my balls all the way up to my rim. I moaned loud, pushing back instinctively.
“Taste so good,” he murmured against my skin. “Clean, musky, all man.”
He dove in without mercy. Tongue circling my pucker in lazy spirals at first, teasing the sensitive ring until I was whining. Then he pressed the tip inside, shallow thrusts that had me rocking back for more. His beard scraped the tender skin of my inner cheeks, adding delicious friction. Spit dripped down my taint, slicking everything.
“Fuck, Jeff… deeper. Tongue-fuck me.”
He growled approval, the vibration shooting straight to my prostate. His tongue plunged deeper, fucking into me in steady, wet strokes. One big hand wrapped around my cock, stroking in time: firm, twisting pulls that made precum drip steadily onto the cushion. The other hand kept me spread, thumb occasionally pressing alongside his tongue, stretching me wider.
“You’re opening up so nice,” he rasped between licks. “Getting all wet and sloppy for my dick. Gonna slide right in when I’m done eating you.”
I clawed the back of the couch, hips grinding back against his face. “Yes… eat my ass. Make me ready. Want your cock so bad.”
He sucked on my rim, lips sealing around it, tongue flicking inside while he hummed. The suction pulled a desperate sound from my throat. Minutes blurred into pure sensation: his beard scratching, his tongue thrusting, his hand jerking me slow and torturous. I was dripping everywhere... precum pooling on the fabric, spit running down my thighs.
“Jeff… can’t wait anymore. Need you inside.”
He pulled back with a wet pop, lips shiny, beard glistening. “Turn over. Want to watch your face when I fill you.”
I flipped onto my back, legs spread wide, knees hooked over his shoulders as he settled between them. He grabbed the lube from the side table, slicking his thick length generously, then smeared more over my hole. Two fingers pushed in first: slow, scissoring, stretching me open while he leaned down to kiss me deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
“Ready?” he asked, positioning the blunt head at my entrance.
“Fuck yes. Give it to me.”
He pressed in slow, inch by girthy inch. The stretch burned so good, his thickness splitting me open. I moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders. When he bottomed out, balls snug against my ass, we both stilled for a second, breathing hard.
“So tight,” he groaned. “Gripping me like a fist.”
“Move,” I begged. “Fuck me.”
He did. Slow, rolling thrusts at first, dragging against my prostate on every out-stroke. The couch creaked under us, our skin slapping wetly. I wrapped my legs tighter, pulling him deeper. His hairy chest rubbed against mine, nipples catching in the friction.
“Harder,” I panted. “Pound me.”
He snapped his hips, driving in deep and fast. The angle hit my sweet spot relentlessly. I stroked myself in time, cock leaking steadily. “Gonna come inside you,” he growled. “Fill your ass up.”
“Do it. Breed me. Want to feel it.”
His rhythm faltered, thrusts turning erratic. “Close… fuck, Jonas…”
“Come,” I urged, clenching around him. “Give me everything.”
He slammed in one final time, burying to the hilt. His cock pulsed, hot spurts flooding me deep... thick, wet ropes that I could feel painting my insides. The sensation pushed me over: I came with a shout, cum shooting across my stomach in heavy ropes, mixing with sweat.
He collapsed on top of me, still buried inside, both of us panting. We kissed slow and sloppy, tasting salt and each other. The movie credits rolled unnoticed in the background.
“Worth skipping the plot for,” he murmured against my neck.
I laughed breathlessly, holding him close. “Best movie night ever.”
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