One of the inexplicable pet peeves of mine are people that laugh at a joke and say "That's funny." Or worse yet, "This is funny." For some reason, the latter sounds like an even more formal way of telling you that your joke was a dud. It's as if they're acknowledging the attempt at humor but instead of just laughing they're compelled to try and cover up any insincerity behind their laugh with confirmation that "Yes, that was a joke and I got it despite your utter failures in comedic timing." And related to that are the laughter that comes from people in a way that you can spell it out. Ha-ha-ha. Literally ha ha. Not just new onomatopoeia, a close approximation of the sound but more like a literal phonetic spelling. That irks me too.
Well, it did until I met him.
He works by the airport. Partnered. A fellow cheater. He couldn't meet up in the evening but could fudge the clock a little to leave a little early on the way into work for a little nookie.
And his body is so sensitive that he giggles. Anywhere I touch. Just the hot breath against his neck. And his ears? Forget it. I have to scrape him off the ceiling. Squirms and giggles. Ha ha ha. Stuttering of the ha tumbling out of his mouth in stark contrast to the sexiness I was trying to assert. But it came from deep within. Genuine. Complete abandon. Hahas from the core. And I fuckin' loved it.
And his nipples were wired. Every little thing I did to them made his cock twitch. So I pressed the boundaries. Soft touch up his side to the giggles stopped by a hard munch on the nipple as he thrashes. Giggles and thrashes and sighs in wild abandon until I worked a little bit of spit on my cock and shoved in. Hard. Fuck he was tight. He gripped it hard and yelled out in a mangle of laughter, pain and a moan of pure exhaustion. I continued to munch on his nips while gripping his shaft and fucking my cock in and out of his tight hole until I felt him cum, setting me off in quick succession.
"Holy fuck," he says afterwards. And giggles. Pure and clear.
I was chewing hard on his nips in an attempt to mark them for a few days, to make him spring a stiffy every time he puts on his shirt, every time he walks and his shirt brushes against them just so. And it worked. I checked in on him after three days and he still remembers the hour we spent together. His nips still sore. A constant reminder. And as I was reading his reply, I couldn't help but hear that giggle that makes me rethink things. Not affectation. Just a deep rooted natural reaction.