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The Conquered - Chapter 14: Triumphs
***** Taylor *****
Peace offerings aside, Larry and I weren't anything close to the comfortable friends we'd been before. It wasn't that he didn't care, or stopped thinking about me as a friend, but I think it was that he no longer understood me. I told my kids that "taking the time to get to know someone is the easiest way to get over your fear of them." So much fear and hate was from a simple lack of understanding. It was easy to hate a "them", but it was much harder to hold onto the hate when the "them" was one of "us".
I still avoided morning swims. I missed them, but I wasn't sure how Larry would react to having a gay man in the same showers as his students. It was Friday at lunch when the next olive branch was presented. I loved my friends. Difficult, pig headed and opinionated as they were, they were my family.
"Hey," Larry settled down on the bleacher next to me, "you haven't tried to grab my ass all week."
I snorted. "With an ass like yours why bother?"
"Ouch!" He grinned, pulling out his lunch and sliding me a pack of natural lays. He wasn't gay, but the man knew my buttons. He looked out at the field as he absently popped open his salad. "You haven't been to the pool all week either."
I shrugged, trying to ignore the bag. "Wasn't sure if I was still welcome there."
Larry glared at me. I swore he was angry. "You're gay, Taylor. I know the difference between a homosexual and a pedophile."
I smiled. "I wasn't sure. Thanks."
He snorted, shrugging it off, and ate a spoonful of potato salad. "Not like being gay is contagious."
I snagged the bag. "Ok, Larry. You only bring out the drugs," I ripped open the bag for emphasis, "when you want something." I bit into one of the addictive little crisps and mumbled around it, "Spill."
He shrugged, looking back out at the field. "I can get the love part. I just don't get the sex part."
I laughed. "Not much different than man-woman sex, Larry. Tab A into Slot B. Same tab, different slot." I grinned. "Well, mostly..." He eyed me dubiously and I laughed. "Come on Larry, you know more than a few guys fuck their girl's asses too."
He cringed. "I just don't' get it. I mean, it'd just feel like shitting in reverse."
Shaking my head, I took a bite of my tuna on wheat. "For a physical education and human sexuality teacher, you're such a puritanical prude."
Swallowing down another spoonful, Larry frowned at me. "Becca and I do more than missionary with the lights off you know!"
I laughed. "Ever fucked her ass? Ever let her do anything to you other than suck on that flag pole of yours?"
He frowned, looking away. "She does a lot more than just lick the log, Taylor."
"You ever let her near your ass? Ever swapped roles?"
"Taylor!" Larry squirmed. "Shit, I'm not a fag like..."
My eyes narrowed. "Yeah, like me. I know." It hurt, but at least he'd tried not to say it.
He looked away again, his shoulders slumping. "It's not normal."
"Do you do any research into sex other than what is in the book you have to teaching from?" That pissed me off. It wasn't about me. I just couldn't let someone who was responsible for teaching kids about their bodies and sexual options chain the kids in the restraints of puritanical morals. "I know you know what a prostate is, Larry. Guess what? Gay men and straight men have them. They work the same no matter who your sex partner is. A straight guy can get off having it worked just like a gay guy. The only difference is that his partner is a woman and she has to use her fingers or toys."
Larry sat there, his face flush and his eyes hard as he chewed on my words. Yeah, I'd hit a sore spot. Larry had never been comfortable teaching the sex-ed classes. He was more than happy to joke with his jocks about "scoring", but to actually give them real information about women and sexual options shut him down. He knew I had him dead to rights, even if he didn't want to admit it.
"A woman's G-spot is in about the same position, Larry. She can have some really amazing orgasms from it." I grinned. "Why do you think I was so tired all the time when I was dating Shelly?" Larry just looked at me, the harshness draining away as I switched to topics we'd covered before. "She loved to have her G-spot worked. Once was never enough and she wanted oral, anal, and just good ole fucking with every session. It was great, but a lot of work."
Larry just shook his head, but he grinned in spite of himself. "You are such a fucking horn-dog."
"Pig," I corrected as I picked up my sandwich again.
"I'm a sex-pig. Get your terminology right, Larry." I laughed at him and decided to toss another log on the fire. "Guess what Andrew's nick name is for me?
He rolled his eyes and looked back out at the field. "Man, I don't want to know." He shoveled in more potato salad, took a swig of his diet coke, and did everything but look at me while I waited. He didn't last long. "Okay, what?"
"Bacon," I chuckled. It had been embarrassing at first, but I'd come to love the nickname. I was one hot little fuck. I could make big, strong, muscular men scream and beg. I could fuck and suck a man 'til he was dripping, limp and completely blown. So what if I was the smaller, pretty guy? I could do things to a man or a woman that left them begging for more.
"Bacon?" He looked at me, trying not to laugh.
"Yeah. I'm his 'sizzling hot little pig'." Leaning back, I wiggled my eyebrows. "Andrew can't resist bacon in any form."
"Oh, jeez. I did not need that visual." He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut while he tried to turn off his mental TV. I laughed. A year ago I never thought Larry would sit next to a gay guy and talk sex. It was just too funny. He opened his eyes and looked at me. The doubt there surprised me. "He really lets you fuck him?"
I nodded. "Yep." I thought about our session from the night before and smiled. "He does a lot more than 'let' me, Larry."
He shook his head, looking at his lunch sack. "I'd never have pegged him as a fag. He's what most of my kids in the weight training class want to become."
"He's a man, Larry. Big, solid, honest, strong, and loving." I could have gone on, but I didn't want to gush. "If he wasn't gay, you'd probably use him as an example of what 'real men' could be. Does whom he loves and sleeps with really matter?" I shrugged and finished my sandwich. "It doesn't change how he deals with his clients, his family, or anything else. The only person who should be concerned with his sexual leanings is, well, me."
Larry chewed on that while I finished the chips he'd given me. He looked back at me after he'd tucked his empty Tupperware back into his bag. "So, you guy's swap?"
I shifted on the seat. I'd slammed Larry pretty hard. Could I face admitting I couldn't bottom for my boyfriend? Well, not yet anyway. "Not completely."
His face scrunched up into a confused frown. "Unless gay sex is different, which you say it isn't, I can't think of how you can have it be 'incomplete'."
I looked away. "He's too big."
"That must suck." I didn't look at him. "At least women can adjust over time. It took Becca a while before I could get mostly in. After James was born, she was able to take all of me... that was what, four years?"
I nodded. "We're working at it. I think I'll be able to take him soon." I grinned. "Thanks for telling me about Becca. It isn't quite the same but it helps, you know?"
Larry smiled. "You're my friend, Taylor. I'm just a narrow minded, redneck jock. Give me a little while to get my head on straight." He frowned. "Well, I'm straight already... "
I laughed. "We're just taking the blinders off, huh?"
Larry grinned. "Yeah. Even an old horse I guess."
I looked at him as he stood up. "Thanks, Larry."
He shrugged, and then gave me a stern look. "You'd better get your queer ass in the pool next week. If Becca gets word that you've been sloughing because of me, my life will be hell."
I saluted. "Sir, yes sir!"
"Freak." He grinned as he started down the bleachers.
I snorted, shoving my trash back in my paper bag. "Redneck."
He looked back. "Queer."
I stood up and took a step down the bleachers. That put us at eye level. "Prude."
Larry just laughed. "You're the gutsiest guy I've ever known."
I smiled. "Don't forget it."
***** Andrew *****
Each day I went to work, the feeling that I was a fraud diminished. I didn't have any doubt in my abilities. I was damn good at my job.. I simply felt like the gym was a pipe dream, and that the dream that would soon end. I'd wake up, and this great place, this wonderful feeling, would be gone.
My first client that day was Buck Jacobson. He was a sweet man, but a lonely one. I think he came in more for someone to talk to than anything else. In the last month, he could walk more easily. He used his cane for balance rather than support. I had also really missed the mark about his age. Instead of being in his late fifties, he was nearly ten years younger, pain having weathered his face. I was working him through some exercises when he stopped to wipe his forehead. "You've got something on your mind, Son?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I guess I do, Dad." He'd called me son so many times, that I got in the habit of calling him dad, at first sarcastically, then out of affection.
"Wanna talk about it?" As I internally debated, Buck waved it away with a grin. "I bet I can guess." I raised my eyebrow at him and he chuckled. "You're thinking about your man again, aren't you?"
I knew that blushing was an involuntary response, but it still pissed me off when I did it. "That obvious?"
He smiled warmly as he clapped me on the arm. "No Son, it isn't. But you can't stop staring at him when he's here." He rubbed my arm once, and then nodded at me. "If you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to listen."
Touched and weary, I smiled at him. "Buck, I appreciate it, but there are some things..."
He looked a tad sad, but smiled at me anyway. "I may not know what it's like to be in love with a man, but I do know what it's like to be in love." His gaze turned inwards as he continued to speak. "My wife died in the car accident that has me coming here to you. It's been a while, but I remember what it was like to meet her, fall head over heels, then finally know she was mine." He grinned at me again. "But it was pure hell between the first hello and the day she married me."
"In what way?"
He chuckled. "Because I knew she was the one for me from the first. It wasn't until she said `I do' that I could relax." He flashed me a toothy grin. "Some slick bastard could have taken her from me."
I sat down on the front part of the bench next to us. "I don't worry about that. Not really." I rubbed my face with my hands. "Is there such a thing as wanting something to be too perfect?"
Buck looked at me strangely for a minute, and then shrugged. "Perfection is hard to achieve. What are you trying to make perfect?"
Now this was a sticky subject. I wasn't about to tell a perfect stranger that Taylor and I'd been working him so he could take my monster cock. "There's something special that's coming up, and I want it to be perfect."
The man seemed to do nothing but smile whenever he spoke to me. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps he simply liked me. Whatever reason, I was sure glad he'd become a client of ours. "For our fifth anniversary, Joanna and I were going camping by the river. I had a friend who had a cabin out there. I had champagne, good food, candles, a present, everything. It was going to be perfect."
There was a heavy `but' in what he was saying. "Why do I have a feeling it was less than perfect?"
He laughed outright. "It rained the whole way up there. The roof leaked. The road got washed out. We spent three days huddled into a corner of that cabin in a sleeping bag."
I shook my head, commiseration riding me hard. "How awful. I'm sorry, Dad."
He shook his head at me. "It was far from awful. The place, the trimmings, the weather... it all doesn't matter. It's the person you're with. The rest is just window dressing. That was one of the best times I'd shared with her." His smile grew wistful, lonely. "Our daughter was conceived that weekend. At least I'm pretty sure it was that weekend."
I recognized the lonely look in his eyes. "Where's your daughter now?"
"Her husband's stationed in Germany."
"You must miss her."
His blue eyes came up to stare into mine, mirth shining in them. "I'm going to be a grandfather in six months."
I sent Buck over to walk off his workout on the treadmill and I used the time between clients to clean up a bit. Before Buck could head off to the changing room, the chime over the door rang and my mother called out. "Andrew?"
"Back here, Mama."
I made my way over to Buck, making sure he was okay on the treadmill. The man pushed too hard sometimes, but so fiercely guarded his independence and pride, that I only watched, and seldom had to step in. Give the man his dignity. Mom walked up to us as Buck was slowing down. His face was sweaty, but not flushed. He stepped off the machine and grabbed a towel to wipe his face.
"What can I do for you Mama?"
She clicked her tongue at me. "Can't a woman take her son to lunch?"
I rolled my eyes at her. "Of course she can. Anytime. You know that." I hugged her to me. "So why are you busting my chops about it?"
She patted her face and pinched my side. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
I took my eyes off my mother, and saw Buck standing there, with a small, silly grin on his face. "How stupid of me. Mom, this is Buck Jacobson. Buck. This is my mother, Grace Jackson."
He wiped his hand on his sweat pants then shook her hand, smiling warmly at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
My mother blushed. She actually blushed. Geez. What was that about? "It's a pleasure to meet you, Buck."
Buck smiled at her again, and then patted my shoulder. "I'll see you on Friday, son. I'll get out of your hair so you can take your mother to lunch."
"Yeah, I do. Have a good lunch, Andrew."
"Okay. Mama, I have to grab some things in the back, give me a minute?"
When she nodded, I left her alone with Buck, who grabbed his bag and cane. I went into the storeroom and got a few things ready for my one PM client. When I got back, Buck headed out the door as my mother stared off into space. "Ready to go, Mama?"
We headed out down the walkway to a teriyaki place in the same strip. They had a great chicken breast and sesame salad, low carb, and few calories. I'd cheated already this week, darn it. Mom had some grilled shrimp. We gathered our orders to go, and headed back to the office so we could talk. If she were surprised that I chose to eat in, she wouldn't be for long. Once we were settled and had eaten for a few minutes, I broke the ice.
"Mama? I need some advice."
"About what, baby?"
I fidgeted in my seat a bit. "I want to take Taylor someplace special. Only I don't know where."
She looked at me over a bite of shrimp, thinking while she chewed. "How special?"
She shook her head. "I meant special in what way? Someplace romantic? Someplace big? A weekend? A big vacation? What?"
I grinned, a bit embarrassed. "I meant romantic. And just for a weekend."
"Okay." She nodded, bit into another shrimp, and chewed slowly. I hated it when she did that. "Did you think about a B&B over on the coast?"
I had actually, though finding one was hard. I wanted privacy and intimacy. "I did. But... I've never done this before, and I have no clue what to look for."
Her sigh was quiet and her face was sad. "Sunsets and holding hands while walking on the beach. Sounds wonderful."
I placed my hand over hers. "Mom. What's wrong?"
"Nothing sweetie. Nothing at all." She shook herself. "I'm glad you're doing this. How can I help?"
Not wanting to let her down mood go, but excited over the prospect of having someplace special to finally claim all of Taylor, I shelved her response for later discussion. "If you know of anyplace that's kind of private, I can take it from there."
"You're in luck. Melissa at work spent a few days on her honeymoon at a place last summer. I'll get the name of the place and call you later on with it."
"Thanks Mom." I kept my hand on hers and squeezed it. "Now tell me what's got you down."
She tried to pull her hand away, but I wouldn't let her. "Andrew Jackson, you stop this right now!"
"No. Tell me."
Her shoulders slumped. "I got a letter the other day, from your father."
My entire body stiffened. That bastard had no right to even speak to her after he'd broken her heart and left us alone. She'd cried herself to sleep night after night after he left. But because she'd never said one bad thing about him, I kept my voice calm. "What did it say?"
She smiled, but it was a stopgap to keep from crying. "He signed the divorce papers. He's getting married again." She looked away from me. "He wants his grandmother's ring back."
I looked at the hand still clasped in mine. The ring wasn't there anymore. She loved that ring. I thought it was something special from her family. Not his. I wanted to stand and punch the wall or better yet, find that asshole and punch him. Not a word. In twenty years, not a single word to Moira or me. No birthday or Christmas acknowledgments, no congratulations on graduation, and he wasn't there and never showed up to give Moira away at her wedding. Fucking prick! But I couldn't say it. I bit back every word I wanted to utter then stood and took mom in my arms and hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Mama."
She sniffed into my shoulder, but didn't cry. "It doesn't matter. It's over. Has been for years."
"Don't give me that. He was a shit to Moira and me, but you loved him. You have to be hurting."
She pushed away from me. "I am,. but more than anything I'm pissed. I gave up a lot of my life hoping he'd come back. I'm mainly pissed because he doesn't care about you or Moira."
I chuckled and hugged her again. "Go get `em tiger. But don't worry about Moira or me. We both put it behind us a long time ago."
"Good. He's a worthless, unfaithful, son of a bitch. He doesn't deserve either of you."
"No problem." She straightened up, wiped her nose with a Kleenex, and then kissed my cheek. "I'll call you later today with the name of that place."
"Thanks again." I stopped her from leaving. "Mama, why don't you stop by for dinner tomorrow night? Taylor and I'd love to have you."
"Thanks baby. I'll call Taylor later and see if I need to bring anything." She turned to leave then walked back and hugged me again. "That man of yours is damn lucky."
I kissed her cheek then walked her to the door. "Thanks Mom. For everything."
I watched her leave, thrilled that I had an idea of where I could make our first time special, but sad and worried about my mother. She'd been alone since the day the sperm donor left. Before I could think too much on it, my next client came in. Even though I worked just as hard as I always do, my mind filled with split thoughts, worry, and lust.
***** Taylor *****
The sight of a big, sweaty, hairy man wearing only sneakers and onion skin running shorts kept me half hard for our entire run. Andrew's body glistened in the early afternoon light as we got back to the house. There was nothing I loved more than watching all that hairy, sweaty muscle moving. Okay, that was a lie. I loved feeling all that hair, sweaty muscle against me even more.
"Babe," Andrew eyed the clouds building on the horizon, "I'm going to get the lawn mowed while the grass is still dry. It's supposed to rain the rest of the weekend."
"Okay. I'll go in and get stuff started for dinner." I jumped as Andrew slapped me on the ass. "Hey!"
"Cook for me bitch," Andrew growled, and then winked playfully.
I snorted. "I'm your pig, not your bitch."
Andrew stood to his full height, extended his arm and pointed out the house. He looked like a Greek God, if Greek Gods wore running shoes and onion skin shorts. "Get in there, get barefoot and get cooking!"
I rolled my eyes. "Like that would work."
I cracked up as Andrew bent down, brought his hands together just under his chin and flashed those huge puppy dog eyes of his at me. "Please?"
"God. I love you." I kissed away his boo boo lip and trotted off to the house while he retrieved the lawnmower.
Andrew wandered the yard with the mower, grass and dust slowly caking in his fur, while I put the roast in the oven and started it for a long, slow cooking. It would be four hours before it was ready. I sipped my tea and watched Andrew, my eyes drifting to the sway of the bulge in his shorts. I'd been taking the last dildo without any problems for most of the week, but Andrew wanted to wait on my trying to take him again. It was thoughtful and endearing that he wanted to do something special, but frankly, I didn't want the pressure. The first time had been special. Sure, painful, humiliating and in many ways a nightmare, but it had cemented our relationship like nothing else could have. I'd been too uptight and nervous, and scared to let it happen. This time, I just wanted to fuck. We already had the romance in spades.
I grabbed a towel off the dryer and spread it out on Andrew's armchair. There was one thing I could count on as surely as there being day following night, and that was that after working in the yard, Andrew would come in and drop, like a fifty pound sack of fertilizer, in his armchair for at least ten minutes and swig down thirty-two ounces of fluid. The poor thing looked like it had been through a war, but he loved it. I reminded myself I needed to conspire with Grace to make a washable chair cover or three before the upholstery gave out completely. Checking on Andrew's progress, I realized he had at least a half hour more to go. I poured him a tall glass of ice tea, put it in the fridge, and went to take my shower.
The image of my hot, sweaty man haunted my otherwise relaxing shower. I came out, lay back on the bed, and stroked myself to the thoughts of being with a hot, sweaty, dirty, bear of a man. Stroking wasn't going to do it. I found the lube and fingered myself as I moaned out his name. I found the eight incher without having to look, and began fucking myself with it, slowly, in short strokes, while listening to the mower and imagining Andrew. I stopped as I heard the mower shut off. I lay there, panting, and made up my mind. I practically squirted the lube up me, which admittedly wasn't the most erotic feeling, and grabbed my sarong from the end of the bed. Andrew loved me in the sarong he found on our one weekend at the beach over the summer. He said I looked like his hot cabana boy. This cabana boy wanted to be skewered pork.
I wandered downstairs as Andrew dropped, glass in hand, half the tea gone, into his chair. "Done," he grunted before gulping some more tea. He smiled at me as I came into the room. "You look clean and fresh." He sniffed himself. "I'm rank."
I straddled his hips and sank into his lap before leaning in and taking a long, slow, shuddering breath of him. "You smell like the gardener."
He chuckled. "Good thing I'm the gardener. I'd hate to have to kill someone for scenting my man."
I captured his lips before he could get out another smart remark. He moaned, his arm searching out to the side to get his glass to a safe spot, as his other hand gripped my ass. It was such a natural thing for him to do, and it was time he got to do more with that ass than grab it. I pressed him back against the chair and chewed at those always firm nipples of his. All Andrew had to do as think about doing a pushup and his nipples would flush out. When he'd had any exercise at all, they were hard nubs just begging to be lavished with attention. I tried to give them plenty of attention.
He groaned as I rubbed my palm against his aching shaft. He'd pushed out the leg of his shorts, and was beginning to leak. I reached under me, using his monster to push his shorts aside, and I stroked his self lubing shaft while he sighed. "Damn, Bacon. Slow down."
No way. If I slowed down he would want to do something loving and wonderful and avoid the whole "Taylor wants to be fucked" signals I've been sending like emergency flares for the last week. I hadn't wanted to push, but we were getting nowhere. I released his shaft and it slapped, unerringly, against my crack as I slid up to chew on his lips again. Andrew may have wanted romance, but his hog had other ideas. This time, I sided with the hog. I think he was too caught up in the kiss to realize what was happening. It was common for me to squirm against him while we kissed, putting everything I was into the kiss, but this time I had a plan. I grabbed his lower lip in my teeth and pulled as I shifted and impaled myself on his pole.
Andrew cried out. I wasn't sure if it was in surprise, warning, or lust. It was probably all three. I grimaced, taking a deep ragged breath, as I let the stars fade from my vision. I hadn't torn, but that massive head of his still felt like a bowling ball had just been forced through my ring. "Oh, fuck," I groaned, drawing it out as I breathed.
"Taylor?" Andrew's hands held me from sinking further. It almost felt like he would try to pull out.
There was no fucking way I would let that baseball sized head of his pull back out after I'd gotten him in there. He was in, and that was where he would stay. "Shhhhhh," I hissed into his lips, kissing him again as I started grinding my hips about to get the lube around him. "I'm barefoot," I gasped, sinking a little ways down his shaft. "I'm in the dress," I grunted as I flexed, trying to take more of him. "And I've cooked." He wasn't even half way in and I was feeling him all the way to my gut. "Fuck me, Andrew. Fuck me like you mean it."
He gripped my hips and thrust upward. I cried out, bracing myself against his chest as he took three rapid plunges into me. I thought I would to die. It wasn't pain, not exactly, but it was definitely a sensation so intense that my body couldn't decide if it liked it or not. I was trembling against him, nuzzling at his neck as he held me. He was over half way in, but he'd stopped. His hands stroked my back. "You okay, baby?"
I nodded, trying to find my voice. "You're so fucking huge."
"We can stop," he whispered.
I shook my head. "No. It doesn't hurt. Keep going."
We flexed and gasped and groaned against one another for what felt like forever. By the time I felt his balls against my ass, I wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to pull back out. "I'm in, Taylor." His voice was strained, but filled with so much awe and love that I had to pull back and look in his eyes.
"I told you we would get here," I managed before groaning as he flexed inside me. "God. If you were any longer I'd be able to taste you."
"How do you feel?"
"Full," I sighed. My sigh became a loud, ragged moan as he lifted me up his shaft, dragging that bulbous head of his from my gut, past my prostate, and stretched my ring in one continuous motion. "Oh, Jesus," I squeaked, "don't pull out."
"I'm not," he said through clenched teeth, and then pressed me back down onto him while he swiveled his hips. Now I was sure I would to die. He was drilling for oil and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I didn't even have the brain power to comment. Everything was burning, stretching, and shocking me from my ass to my ears. I had goose bumps.
"Fuck me, Andrew." It was the only thing I could think or say.
He rolled us forward, his knees going to the floor as my back pressed on top of the ottoman. My legs came around his hips as he began to thrust into me with more passion and less control. "You're so fucking tight," he grunted into my ear as he began taking harder and harder plunges into my willing ass. The shock of having something so huge in me was over, and the sensations of surrender had taken over. He pistoned me like a machine, grunting and moaning. Suddenly, Andrew's eyes flew open and he looked like someone had shot him. "Oh, fuuuuuck!" He seared my insides, shaking as he came, his hips doing little jack rabbit thrusts as he whimpered. "Oh fuck. Oh, God."
That was it? I'd just started losing myself to it and it was over? Andrew didn't give me a chance to feel let down. With a deep, shuddering grown, he pulled back and slid deep again. "Oh, God." Yeah, we really needed to start going to church. We'd been calling to the divine a hell of a lot more frequently as of late. I looked at Andrew's face. He grimaced, clenching his jaw as his eyes glistened with tears. "Andrew?" He looked like he was in pain.
He panted, thrusting into me slowly, swiveling as he went. "It feels like my dick is going to peel." He shuddered. "You're the tightest guy I've ever fucked, Taylor." He groaned as grassy, dirt filled sweat began to began dripping from him. "I forgot what this was like." He hunkered down, thrusting more urgently into me again. "I love the feeling of fucking through an orgasm," he groaned, "the intensity makes my eyes roll."
"Yeah," I grunted in return. I'd never been able to do that. Once I came, I had to let my dick desensitize for a minute or two before I could go back at it. Just keeping it in a vise, torturing myself, was beyond my endurance.
Andrew picked up the pace, causing me to lose my breath as he started doing full ring to gut thrusts. "I want you to ride me raw, Taylor." He bit at my neck as I clawed at his back. God my man could fuck. "You're the only man I need, ever." I started to tremble as the sensations rose. "Promise me, Taylor."
All I could do was nod into his shoulder. I was going to blow. This one was like none he'd give me before. I was certain I was going to shake apart as the eruption rose from my gut.
"Promise," he whispered, fucking me harder.
I just couldn't answer. I wanted to, but my brain couldn't send any signals to my mouth. All I managed was to scream as I blew between us. His furry belly tortured me as he kept rubbing against my throbbing shaft. His dick had softened a little since his first blow, but he was still massive. He just kept thrusting, more slowly, as I recovered. I whimpered into his shoulder. "I promise... just don't stop."
He didn't. He stayed in me, on the ottoman, the floor, and later after carrying me, still impaled, into the shower. Over two hours of nothing but Andrew, stretching me and making me feel things I'd never felt before. We cuddled in the bed, Andrew's overspent tool resting between my cheeks, when I realized I could hear the oven buzzer from down stairs.
"Meat's done," I mumbled.
Andrew kissed my neck, chuckling sleepily. "I'll say."
I grinned. "The other meat, you pig."
He ground himself against me. Just the feel of his thick muscle against my well stretched hole made me tremble. "I could always check to see if you're done."
I whimpered as he chewed on my ear. "Are you sure you're only nine inches? I swear you were more than an inch deeper than the dildo."
"Last time I checked," he murmured.
I groaned. "When was that?"
I blinked. "Nineteen?" I rolled away from him, more for the need to save our dinner than to get away from his thickening interest. "Andrew, I've gotten bigger since I was nineteen."
"Tomorrow I'm pulling out the yard stick."
Andrew laughed. "Taylor, a ruler will do."
I grinned. "True, but the yardstick will reach farther when I beat your ass for giving me an under-estimate."
Andrew propped himself up on his elbow. "You wouldn't."
"Nah, but I'm going to be proud as hell if you're even bigger." I laughed. "It's like running an extra mile after the marathon is over, just because you can."
"I love you, Taylor." His voice, and his eyes, drew me in.
I pulled back before he could drug me with another round of kissing. "I love you too. Let's eat."
"Eat?" Andrew looked at me like I was an alien. "We finally finish what we started back in April, and you want to eat?"
I stood up, feeling an ache behind my pelvis that I realized I'd have to become accustomed to. "Yes. I've just been fucked within an inch of my life. I'm hungry."
Grumbling, Andrew rolled out of bed. "I married a freak."
"Play your cards right," I raised my eyebrows as I walked for the door, "and this freak may just let you park that limo of yours in private parking again."
He caught me around the waist before I could get out the door, and nuzzled my neck. "You sure?"
I moaned, leaning into the man who'd made my life complete. "Yeah, but timing will have to wait until I know how sore I am. New muscles and all."
He chewed on my neck, his hand sliding down to rhythmically squeeze my dick. If I hadn't blown five times already, I'd have plumped up. As it was, I did fill out a little. "Maybe later, you can return the favor."
"Screw the roast," I moaned, "Let's go out."
I pulled out of his arms and turned towards the dresser. "Seafood restaurant. I think we're going to need a lot of oysters."
Neither Andrew nor I were into raw oysters. They were disgusting, actually, but it was the thought that mattered. "You say the most romantic things."
"I know." I tossed him a pair of undies. "The sooner we get out of here, refuel, and bring this first time to a close, the sooner I can return the favor."
Andrew was dressed in record time.