Worries

I was anxious.  A bundle of nerves.  It was everything: excitement from the upcoming meet, the anticipation of a whole night of raw sexual energy, the dread of sitting on a plane for a couple hours beforehand, and the most pronounced source of the chaos of emotions was this overwhelming worry that I won't measure up.  I've met other readers of my blogs before and I've even met up with other bloggers, but this will be the first time I'd meet up with another blogger for the sole purpose to fuck.  And it happens all the time.  People build up an image in their head of what you're like based off of what they read from you, whether it's just a profile off an app or a whole series of blogs.  And there's that worry that reality will be mismatched to the fantasy that you've accidentally projected.

But all of that was behind me now.  Funny how as much as how I worried about not meeting expectations, I had no equivalent fears about him.  And I didn't need to.  He's exactly as I pictured him.  A matured scruff that neatly accentuates his masculine jawline.  An incongruent youthful vitality to his voice.  And a hole that makes me salivate.

I'm on top of him.  He's face down on the bed and I'm trying to cover every inch of him like a warm blanket.  Pressing my weight into him.  Snaking my arm around and underneath him, either tucking him in or squeezing the breath out of him like a boa constrictor.  I try to convey the sense of both comfort and oppressive control, that odd intersection where giving your body up to another is overwhelmingly intimately safe and rewarding.  And that's because he brings it out in me.  I want to just snatch him up and have him curl into a ball into me for protection.  But there's always that element of fear.  My raging cock is achingly throbbing into the nestled valley of his ass and with a slight change, the head of my cock hits it's target squarely on and insists for passage.  I sense his body alternate between the sigh of contented submission and the tense rejection of control so my body tries to settle him down.  And then I raked my scruff across his back trying to read a spot on his body that would distract him with a shudder but his body was inscrutable.  My insistent cock insists on relief and presses in, millimeter by millimeter.  His body starts to tremble with both need and resistance.

"My cock is going to tear into you," I whisper into his ear, letting my hot breath in close proximity add to the sensations I insist his body to react to.  "I'm going to rip it into you and fuck you so hard, you're going to feel it for days."

This elicits a moan from him.  And a whimper.

"Oh, god.  Please don't."  It was a breathless reply that coincided with his ass trying to buck back into me involuntarily.  He clears his throat and just stops all movement. "No, seriously.  Don't."

There was that worry.  A different type than the one that I had before we met, but my twisted mind latched on to that and played on it.

"No.  You don't get to decide that.  I do.  And I'm going to just plunge my cock into you all the way without warning.  Your ass will be aching for days.  Throbbing from my assault."  And before I could finish those low tones directly into his ears, my cock had glided into him achingly slow until it hit rock bottom.

But he was still a bundle of nerves.  Drenched in desire and that worry, so much so that it took him a second to realize that I was all the way in.  I shifted to get in deeper still and made my cock throb.  And with that.  The worry went away.  The worry again came from that precarious place between fantasy and reality and in that instant when I was fully deep inside him, the two sides merged into one and it was real.  And reality was so much better.