Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

When his finger leaves me, I let out an unmanly whimper. I cover it by grunting—deep and guttural.

Damon knows what I’m doing and chuckles. “Just a sec, baby.”

The telltale sound of the lube cap opening has my cock leaking precum. Hmm, interesting. I’ve developed a Pavlovian response to lube.

I don’t have time to dwell on that because Damon’s back, his mouth on mine and his fingers sliding inside me.

“Goddamn it, sonofamotherfucking fucker,” I ramble.

Damon smiles against my mouth. “I love when you don’t make sense.”

Something takes over me, and I officially have no control over my hips which thrust forward. Our cocks bump and rub against each other, and it’s so, so good—too good.

“Wait, wait, wait. Too fucking close.”

His fingers slip out of me, and it gives me time to catch my breath. He fiddles with the lube again, and then the cool, soft feel of silicone trails down my ass. Forget catching my breath; I’ve forgotten how to breathe entirely.

“I’ll go slow,” Damon murmurs.

I tense to brace myself.

“Need to relax or it’ll hurt.”

I nod.

“Maddy, you’re still tense. Kiss me.”

Our mouths distract me from the pressure between my ass cheeks as Damon inserts the toy inch by inch. The sting of stretching makes my arousal waver, but I know if I breathe through it it’ll be worth it as soon as—

“Oh fuck.” It brushes against my prostate, and even with the sting still there, I want more.

Instead of moving it, though, Damon leaves it in me and moves his hand in between us, gripping our cocks together and stroking in slow pulls.

My chest rises and falls in shallow pants, and my face and skin burn up.

“You’re so hot when you’re turned on,” Damon says and tightens his grip.

“You mean when you’re trying to fucking kill me.” I throw my head back enjoying the fullness in my ass and Damon’s hand on my cock. “Fucking hell.”

“I know you’re close when you start dropping too many F-bombs.” His hand releases us and goes back to the toy. He moves it in and out slowly, and I can feel him watching me for a reaction. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head vigorously. “Fuck no.”

He continues to torture me with it—in the best way possible—until I’m breathing so heavy I can’t talk. “Can you take more?”

The same time I go to answer, he pushes the dildo back inside me harder. “Yes!” Fuck, yes. I can’t tell if it’s my mouth or my head that chants “More, more, more.”

“Roll over,” Damon whispers.

I shudder in anticipation as I turn over onto my hands and knees. Staring at him over my shoulder, I watch as he rubbers up and covers his cock in lube.

“Still with me?” Damon asks.

“Hurry up and fuck me, jackass.”

Damon laughs, and in one swift move, he removes the toy from my ass and lines up his cock. He pushes in, and I tense against the invasion. He’s a lot bigger. I take a deep breath.

“Babe?”

“I’m okay,” I choke out. “How far in are you?”

“Just the tip.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Another deep breath. I can do this.

Damon doesn’t push in any father but starts massaging my ass and lower back, trying to get me to relax. He squirts more lube in my crease, and it works enough for him to slide in a bit more. His groan has my cock twitching. The poor thing is confused. It doesn’t know whether to be turned on or go flaccid from the pain in my ass.

“I can stop,” Damon says.

“No, don’t.” I’m anything if not determined. “Keep going slow.” I close my eyes tight and rest my head on my forearm.

Just when I think this isn’t going to work, Damon reaches that glorious spot deep inside me. The stretching pain diminishes as Damon’s hips roll in small, shallow thrusts, making his cock rub over my prostate over and over again.

“More.”

“You sure?” Damon asks.

“Yes. I need …” The words die as Damon tests out a bigger thrust. It feels so fucking good. “Keep going,” I pant.

Damon keeps moving in and out of me, slowly picking up his pace.

“Fuuuuck,” I grunt.

“So hot. Tight.” His voice is strained.

“I …” I can’t form words. Nope. Brain is gone. Words no longer exist. I’ll be lucky if I can grunt like a caveman.

“What do you need?” Damon asks. “You need me to touch you?”

Fuck, yes. Friction on my dick is exactly what I need, but I can’t do it myself. My fingers are scrunched in the bedsheets, holding on for dear life while Damon’s hips piston and thrust deeper. The pain is completely gone and replaced with a growing need for more. More touching, more fucking, more, more, more.

Apparently, I’m a greedy bottom. Interesting.

I have no idea if my “Yes” comes out aloud or not, but Damon reaches around me and starts stroking in time with his thrusts which are now frantic and needy.