Contrasting

He's a set of beautifully awkward contrasts. Smaller gauge hole in his ear and shoulders that seem to be permanently stuck in a charming boyish shrug. Superhero shirt that once removed revealed a network of images tattooed on his back, etching harsh stories in indelible ink. He spoke in a gentle tune that cascaded in a soft lull that drew you into a sweet dream. But it was me that wanted to rock him in my arms from the moment he walked in, impossibly tall but postured in such a diminutive way that just so fucking cute. Or maybe that hunch is of the injuries he sustained in a softball tournament just the other day, leading to the pain patch that he had on his arm. I felt kinda guilty after I found out what that patch was 'cause I had contorted his figure into impossible shapes as I nailed my hardness into him in. And I felt doubly guilty since I continued to fuck him after I had already hammered him so hard he came from just a few quick strokes. It was one of those moments where his ass was just tensing from his orgasm in such a way as to milk my cock and I just was so close I couldn't stop. So I just rode that cusp of cumming for a few more minutes after he came before I fucked my load into him. The guilt lifted, though, as he purred in that singsong voice of his how he could feel my load in him. Cute. In such a contrasting dirty way.