I couldn't stop thinking about it. About how Noah lay in front of me with his legs spread, sweaty, shaken, with my finger inside him. About how his body exploded, how his cum spurted onto his chest.
I saw him the next day in the kitchen. He was wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts, leaning his hip against the counter, eating yogurt as if nothing had happened. But his gaze was different. Shorter. Heavier. Sometimes it glided over me faster than it should have. And when I approached, he didn't back away an inch. On the contrary.
There was a silence between us that spoke louder than any words. I knew he was thinking about it. Just like me. And that if I spoke up, he wouldn't deny it. Maybe he would even initiate it himself. But this time... I wanted to be prepared.
When I got back from the gym, I went to the sex shop. Not for fun. For him. And for myself. I ran my fingers across the entire shelf until I found what I was looking for. A realistic dildo. Not too big, but not small. Thick, slightly curved, with details that resembled a real cock, warm to the touch, flexible but firm. Perfect for Noah to feel something more than just a finger.
At home, I opened a new package of lube. For a moment, I just stared at the toy lying on a white towel on the bed. In my head, I had his body, how he tensed, how he trembled. I imagined spreading his legs again. Taking something bigger than my finger. His breath getting faster, his moans deeper. Louder. His cock twitching against his stomach, glistening and wet.
I knew I would do it. And I knew he would let me.
It wasn't just about helping him anymore. I wanted to see him like that again. But harder. Deeper. Longer. I wanted to take control of his body and make him break.
Because that day he showed me how much he could open up.
And I was just getting warmed up.
He showed up in the evening, without a word. Just the quiet click of the key in the lock, his heavy footsteps in the hallway, and a look that said it all. There were no jokes. There were no explanations. Just his eyes fixed on me and the tension in his body, as if he was struggling to hold himself together inside.
I closed my laptop. I stood up. I was waiting for this.
“So?” I asked calmly, as if we were talking about watching a movie.
“I was thinking... maybe... we could try something bigger,” he said quietly, almost as if he was ashamed of his own words. But his body didn't lie, his shoulders tense, his fingers nervously squeezing his phone, his breathing faster than it should be.
“Everything's ready,” I said.
He didn't ask what it was. He wasn't surprised. He just nodded and followed me to the bedroom.
We walked without saying a word. But the air between us was thick as steam.
Exactly what I had planned was waiting in the room: a clean towel, lube, and a black, realistic dildo. It lay on the sheet like an extension of what was about to happen. Noah looked at it and froze. His eyes showed everything at once: uncertainty, curiosity, tension, and something deeper... desire.
“If you want to really feel what this is all about,” I said quietly, standing close behind him, “a finger isn't enough.”
He didn't answer. But his body had already made the decision.
He took off his shirt. Then his pants. He slowly slid off his boxers. He was naked. And he didn't hide it. His chest was tense, his stomach twitching slightly with each breath. His cock hung heavy, but it was getting harder with every second. He knew I was watching. He wanted me to watch.
He lay down on the towel. He spread his legs wider than last time. He rested his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes. Ready.
And I already had everything at hand.
Now it was my scene.
I knelt between his thighs, feeling the whole scene vibrate with tension. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was alert. His cock was already twitching slightly, not quite hard, but thicker and heavier with every second. His whole body said one thing: he was ready.
I started slowly. I squeezed some lubricant onto my fingers, warmed it between my palms, and then reached lower. I spread his buttocks, revealing a pink, tight entrance. I saw him shiver when I ran my thumb over his skin. Then I slid one finger in, slowly, precisely. There was no resistance. He was already open. He remembered me.
I moved rhythmically for a moment, watching his breath.
“Is that okay?” I asked quietly.
He nodded. Nothing else.
I reached for the dildo. Black, flexible, smooth. I covered it with gel, carefully, thoroughly, knowing that this first moment had to be perfect. Then I placed the tip at his entrance and waited. I wanted him to feel the presence, that something else, something bigger, was right there with him.
“Breathe,” I whispered. “Slowly. And don't move.”
I pressed lightly. The muscles in his body trembled. His head tilted back. He sighed, briefly, sharply.
I slid the tip in. Just that. And then another pause.
He groaned. His hand clenched the sheet. His hips twitched, but he didn't pull away.
So I went further. Inch by inch.
I could feel Noah's body opening up to me, as if letting me in deeper than just physically. I slid the dildo in slowly until almost its entire length was inside him. He wasn't moaning anymore. He was breathing heavily, throatily. Every muscle in his body was tense as a rope.
“Can you take more?” I asked, not taking my eyes off his face.
“Yes... Matt... fuck... yes.”
I started to move. Slowly. Long strokes. Then shorter, harder. The dildo slid in and out of him with a wet sound. Deeper and deeper each time, more confidently. I knew I was hitting exactly the right spot. I could tell by his moans. By the way his chest rose and fell in rhythm with my movements.
He didn't touch his cock. He didn't even try.
And yet... I knew he was close.
I could see it. Every change in his body. His breathing became shallow, choppy, his hips shaking slightly with my every movement. The dildo slid in deep, rhythmically, hard. Every time I thrust it into him, his insides tightened more. As if he didn't want to let me out.
Noah moaned. Openly, loudly, without any inhibitions. There was no trace of control left. His body arched, his fingers dug into the sheets, his neck tense. Sometimes he shouted my name. Sometimes he just opened his mouth silently, as if he couldn't keep up with what was happening inside him.
He didn't touch his cock.
He didn't have to.
He was so tense that I could see the veins in his neck pulsing. His head thrown back. His mouth open, his breathing ragged.
And then it happened.
One movement. Deeper. More precise. And suddenly... he arched his back. He froze. And he shot.
Sperm gushed out of him, strong, thick, hot. One stream hit his chest, another his stomach, and a third landed on the pillow. He shook under my hand, his whole body trembling in rhythm with his release. His fingers clenched the sheet so tightly that his white knuckles almost showed through his skin.
I didn’t stop. Just a few more slow thrusts. The dildo inside him, deep, moving carefully, as if it were prolonging his orgasm.
I pulled it out of him slowly. When it came out, he shuddered again.
He lay motionless. Sweaty, cum dripping down his chest. His eyes closed, his chest rising heavily. HHe was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. The room was quiet. Only breathing. And the tension that hadn't gone away, but had only gone deeper.
He looked at me slowly, as if he was just coming back to himself.
“I didn't know it could be... like this,” he whispered.
I moved closer. I put my hand on his stomach, right in the middle of the mess he had made.
“Tomorrow will be even better,” I replied quietly.
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