Due to being longer than I expected, I decided to break this story up into more than two parts, so there'll be at least one more after this one.
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Thank you, and enjoy!
I kept stroking Ray’s cock, slow and steady, watching him squirm and writhe beneath my hand like he was trying to stay still and failing miserably. His abs flexed, his thighs tensed, and every so often, his hips would jerk up into my fist like his body was operating on instinct alone.
His head lolled to the side, breath coming in hot, shallow gasps. “Fuuuuck…” he groaned, one arm flopped across his face like the pleasure was too much to look at directly.
I slowed down, letting my strokes go lazy and teasing. Then I stopped altogether, my hand slipping off with a wet schlick. Ray let out a strangled noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
“I was about to fucking blow,” he panted, peeking out from under his arm.
“Yeah?” I said, already moving. “Not yet.”
I got off my bunk and dropped to my knees beside his bed. The floor was cold against my shins—somehow colder than it had been all day—but I barely noticed.
Ray’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say a word. Just looked down at me, chest rising and falling fast, his slicked-up dick still throbbing against his stomach.
I grabbed it again—firmer this time—angling it toward my mouth.
And then I went down.
Warm. Heavy. Smooth. The taste of him hit my tongue instantly: sharp and salty and Ray, somehow. He groaned so loud it probably echoed into the hallway.
“Shiiiiiit, Luke,” he choked out, his hips jolting upward reflexively as I sank lower. One of his hands shot out and grabbed the edge of the mattress, like he needed something—anything—to hold onto.
I pulled back slowly, letting his tip pop free with a soft slurp, then glanced up at him.
“Still cool with this?” I asked, my voice low and breathy.
Ray looked completely wrecked, eyes glassy and lips parted.
“Bro,” he said, voice ragged, “if this is a dream, do not wake me up.”
“Not a dream,” I murmured, licking a bead of precum off his tip before sliding him back into my mouth.
I took Ray deeper, inch by inch, until my nose brushed the base of his shaft and my throat tightened around him. I held there, steady and still, feeling the weight of him, the way his breath caught like I’d punched the air out of his lungs.
When I finally came up, gasping softly, his cock glistened with spit. Ray was a mess—his chest rising and falling fast, jaw slack, a hand fisted in the sheets like he was barely hanging on.
Then I went back down again, slower this time, taking him halfway before wrapping my hand around the base. My other hand slipped lower, fingertips brushing lightly over his balls, teasing with just enough pressure to make him twitch.
“Ughhh, yeah. Play with my balls, dude,” Ray groaned, voice rough, needy, completely unfiltered.
I smirked around him, shifting just enough to give his balls the attention they clearly deserved—gently cupping and rolling them in my hand as I kept bobbing my head, tongue swirling in rhythm.
Ray’s hips bucked slightly, like his whole body was on autopilot. “Fuck,” he muttered, half under his breath. “You’re really good at this…”
I hummed in response, and he gasped again.
His thighs tensed under my hands. Every time I swirled my tongue or gave his balls a light squeeze, his breathing stuttered, like I’d flipped a switch.
My hand didn’t stop moving, but my finger began drifting lower, curiosity and heat guiding it. I found the cleft of Ray’s ass and slowly traced down until I reached the center—his hole, warm and tight and already twitching with anticipation. I circled it lazily, teasing, and was rewarded with a sharp inhale and a low moan from above.
“Jesus,” he muttered, hips rolling involuntarily. I pressed a little more firmly, and his breath hitched. Then I slipped my finger inside—slowly, gently, giving him time to adjust.
Ray’s whole body jerked. “Fuuuuuuuuck!” he growled, his voice an octave deeper, like I’d just flipped his internal breaker switch.
I started working it in and out, easy and steady, feeling him clench and relax around the rhythm. His abs flexed every time I pushed in, and his cock gave a sympathetic twitch of its own.
“So,” I said, voice low, “this what your girlfriend did before she fucked you?”
Ray groaned, tossing his head against the pillow. “Yeah…” he breathed, squirming on the bed as I curled my finger just right.
“Ohhh—shit!” he gasped again, back arching. I’d found the spot.
“Thought so,” I murmured, giving it another press.
His hands clenched in the sheets. “She didn’t do it like that, though,” he choked out.
I leaned in, lips close to his hipbone. “Guess I’ve got better aim.”
Ray let out something between a laugh and a broken moan. His cock was at full mast, heavy and hot in my mouth, every throbbing vein pulsing across my tongue like a heartbeat I could taste. I could feel how alive he was, how close to the edge his body already teetered. Every flick of my tongue drew another twitch. Every shift in pressure made him groan like he was trying not to alert the whole damn base.
And below that, Ray’s hole clenched around my finger with every breath he took, like it couldn’t decide whether to pull me in or push me out. I moved with careful pressure, reading his body as much as feeling it—and then, when his moans turned from startled to needy, I pushed a little further.
I slipped in a second finger.
Ray let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a growl. His whole body tightened—abs flexing, back arching slightly, thighs spreading just a little wider like he didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted it.
“Holy shiiit, Luke,” he muttered, voice ragged, “You—uh—you’re not new to this.”
I looked up at him, smirking around the base of his cock. I pulled off just long enough to say, “Told you I had good aim.”
Then I pushed my fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make him jolt.
Ray clutched the sheets like they owed him money. “Bro—what the hell—where’d you learn this stuff?”
I gave his thigh a light smack. “You want me to stop?”
He shook his head fast, eyes wide and half-wild. “No. No. Jesus. I’m just sayin’… keep doing exactly that.”
His voice cracked at the end, and I laughed—soft and warm—before taking him back in, my fingers still working steadily beneath. He moaned again, louder this time, his whole body humming like it had never felt this good before.
My own dick, aching and neglected, pulsed beneath me like it had started its own protest. It throbbed with every heartbeat, hot and insistent, as if to say: Hey, remember me?
I’d been so focused on Ray—on the way his body responded, the noises he made, the way his thighs trembled under my touch—that I hadn’t realized how long I’d gone untouched. And now? My body was demanding satisfaction.
Finally, I gave in.
I pulled off him slowly—mouth, hand, fingers—all at once, drawing a gasp from Ray like I’d just unplugged him from life support.
“Wait—what are you—?” he started, but then he saw me move.
I climbed up onto his bed, muscles tight with anticipation, straddling his waist like I’d done this before—which, to be fair, I had. Just not with him.
Ray’s eyes tracked me the whole time, wide and dark and stunned into silence. His hands hovered at his sides, unsure if he should grab me or brace for impact.
I reached back, guiding him into place, and slowly began to lower myself onto him.
Ray sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers dug into the sheets again, hard.
“Holy hell, Luke,” he muttered, staring up at me like I’d just rewritten the rules of physics.
I couldn’t help it—I smirked. “You good down there?” I asked, voice low, teasing.
His response was a rough, breathless laugh. “I—I think so. Just… Jesus.”
I settled deeper, adjusting with slow, careful control. The stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him inside me—it was almost overwhelming, but in the best way. A slow burn that made every nerve ending light up.
Ray’s hands finally moved, sliding up my thighs, gripping just above my knees. Not to stop me. Not to guide me. Just to feel.
“You’re… full of surprises,” he breathed.
I rocked my hips forward, just slightly, just enough.
“Yeah?” I said, watching his face. “We’re just getting started.”
I sank down slowly, inch by inch, until I was all the way on him—grimacing as I bottomed out and settled into the stretch. My body tensed, shoulders tight, eyes fluttering shut as I adjusted to the fullness.
“Fuuuuck,” I growled, low and shaky, my fingers gripping Ray’s thighs for balance. My dick jolted as I hit my prostate on him. Ray let out a rough sound from beneath me, part groan, part stunned exhale. His hands hovered like he didn’t know if he should hold me still or let me move.
I braced myself and began to lift up, slowly, feeling every inch of him inside me as I rose—then sank back down again, letting gravity impale me. The motion made my entire body tighten and release in waves, like every nerve had its own reaction time.
Ray swore again, this time barely audible, his hands finally landing on my hips like instinct had taken the wheel.
“Jesus, Luke,” he murmured, watching me like I was something he hadn’t dared picture before tonight. I moved again, finding a rhythm—slow, deliberate, teasing both of us with the tension. My palms rested on his massive chest, feeling the heat and flex of every breath he took.
Once I’d found my rhythm, I really started moving—bouncing on Ray’s thick length with growing confidence, fucking myself like I was built for it. Each bounce sent a ripple through my body, every landing lit a fuse. My thighs were working overtime, and I felt a flush creeping up my chest, but I didn’t care. I was in it.
Ray, wide-eyed and breathless beneath me, finally gave in to instinct. He started thrusting up in time with my movements—tentative at first, then more sure, more urgent. The bed creaked beneath us with my every bounce, the springs protesting like we were committing war crimes against Army-issued furniture.
“Holy hell,” he gasped, his fingers digging into my hips like he was anchoring himself to reality. “You’re so fucking tight, dude.” He groaned again, louder this time—half pleasure, half disbelief. I could feel him getting closer with every upward thrust, his body tensing beneath mine, every breath a growl. “God, Luke,” he panted, voice raw, “you ride like—like you do this for a living.”
“Only on weekends,” I teased, voice shaky as another thrust hit just right. My moan cracked through the room like I’d dropped a plate.
My big shlong slapped wetly against Ray’s abs each time I bottomed out, slick with sweat and precum, the sound rhythmic and obscene in the overheated room. Every time I dropped onto him, my shaft squirted precum into the deep grooves of his stomach, filling each ridge with every bounce.
The pressure in my gut was coiling tighter with every motion, heat rising fast beneath my skin like I was being wound up from the inside. My thighs burned, but I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. I kept fucking myself onto him, driving down hard, taking him as deep as I could, like I needed to hit the very bottom to unlock whatever release was waiting.
“Unhh—” I grunted, breath catching as I bounced harder, bracing myself on Ray’s chest with both hands now. The muscles beneath my palms tensed and shifted with every thrust, sweat-slick and alive. I leaned into him, chasing that perfect angle, the one that made my whole body jolt and my cock pulse dangerously between us.
Ray didn’t say much anymore—just rough, loud moans and guttural sounds each time I dropped down and clenched around him. His hands were firm on my hips, thumbs stroking absently as if to anchor us both, letting me do the work while he reveled in the sensation.
My own moans came out louder now, less controlled, each one punched out of me when I landed just right. My cock slapped against his stomach again, leaking freely now, every nerve lit up like a warning flare.
“Shit, shit—” I panted, almost to myself. I could feel it—so damn close. That edge teasing me, building with every bounce. I was practically trembling, not just from exertion, but from the heat, the tension, the way Ray’s cock filled me up with every deep thrust of gravity.
He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, face flushed, breath steady but shallow, like he was just enjoying the ride. His hands tightened on my waist again, fingers digging in slightly—not to control, just to feel.
I rode him harder, desperate now, chasing that high with wild focus, my cock throbbing untouched, sliding slick across his abs, smearing my own liquid across his body with every downward thrust.
Every slap echoed in the close air, fast and wet and relentless.
My eyes squeezed shut. Impaling myself one final time, I slammed down hard, taking Ray as deep as my body would allow—flesh meeting flesh with a wet, echoing slap that filled the room like a final drumbeat. The pressure inside me exploded into white heat. That thrust—that one—tipped me right over the edge.
My head snapped back, spine arching, every muscle going taut as a shout tore out of my chest.
“Oh God… Oh fuuuuuuuuuck!” I cried, raw and unfiltered, the sound cracking through the humid air like a live wire. There was no hiding it, no biting it back—it was the kind of release that tore through you like a wave, pulling everything else under. My whole body arched forward as the climax overtook me. I gripped Ray’s pec with one hand for balance—solid, sweat-slick, flexing under my fingers—and with the other, I wrapped around my own cock, already throbbing and ready to explode.
The first spurt hit Ray’s chest before I even realized it, hot and sudden, followed by another, and then another, as the orgasm coursed through me in tight, uncontrollable pulses. My load coated Ray’s pecs. My cock filled the deep ridges of Ray’s abs with jizz, cum leaking out of them like syrup from a waffle.
With my other hand gripping his pec—firm, drenched, rising and falling with every ragged breath he took—I steadied myself as the rest of me completely unraveled. My thighs trembled, my vision blurred, and my dick kept twitching, kept releasing, ropes of cum striping his abs and pecs like it couldn’t stop.
It felt endless. I didn’t even know I had this much in me. Every throb sent another jolt through me, pleasure ricocheting out from my core, making my knees go weak even as I straddled him. My chest heaved, skin burning with sweat, heart pounding like I’d run a mile with no gear and no breaks.
Ray just lay there, stunned, letting me ride it out—his big hands still holding onto my hips like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Exhausted, I pulled myself off of Ray, gasping as his length slid free. The sudden vacancy made my whole body tense for a second—it was like my muscles didn’t know what to do without him inside me. My thighs trembled from the effort, every muscle humming with the aftershocks of release. I braced myself with one hand on his chest, trying to steady my breath. I hovered there for a moment, catching my breath, knees wobbly, skin flushed, sweat cooling on my back in the thick air of the room.
Beneath me, Ray was still very much not finished.
