I got the dreaded question that every top that prides himself on being a good lover fears: "Are you close yet?" ... said in that tentative voice with a little bit of fear. And the problem was that I wasn't even a tenth of the way there. A jersey boy with Mediterranean features, here for an extended stay as a contractor, lying flat face-down on his belly and my raw dick wrapped by his deeply warm hole with a vise-like grip and I wasn't anywhere near the finish line. Broad expanse of a back down to a narrow waist. Shoulders softly dusted with fuzz. Beautiful skin. Unblemished until goosebumps peppered the valleys between his shoulders and down his back as I raked a day's worth of stubble across them.
Fuck with being nice. I could tell he wasn't a bottom by the way his hole resisted me and gripped my cock like Homer choking Bart Simpson. I placed my arm on his back and laid my full weight into it, pressing my elbow into that knot in his back that I felt earlier, hoping to distract him from the pain that was to come as I built up speed and fucked all my inches deep inside him. By the time I let loose, my hands were violently wrapped around the back of his neck and squeezing him as much as he squeezed junior down there and filled him with a huge load that was built up over a couple days.
He rolled onto his back afterward and his cock was shriveled up into a nub smaller than a flake of potpourri. Fuck. I thought I was better than that.
Funny thing is that he asked me to come back later in the week. Go figure.