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Fuzzy 7

Dinner was pleasant, though Paul and I had eyes only for each other. We held hands for much of the meal and it's hard to enjoy food when you are that horny and distracted by each other. I had to force myself to slow down and appreciate my boyfriend's handiwork. I complimented him, trying to be as specific as my untrained palate allowed. Fuzzy was gracious and genuinely appreciative.

Still, I practically choked, every time I looked at him. I wanted him so bad. His words echoed inside me and made my balls heavy with desire: ...want you to fuck me tonight... A couple of times my fork trembled. Paul noticed and looked at me quizzically, while the ladies were distracted in conversation. I put on a pathetic "want" face, for a second and looked down where his lap disappeared under the tablecloth.

He smiled. That fucker smiled and licked his lips. The fork jerked in my hand, threatening to launch its contents across the dining room. I had to look away.

Dinner finally over and the dishwasher running, we excused ourselves and returned to Fuzzy's place, where his bedroom was better: farther from his mom's, mostly. I was carrying a mystery package that I wouldn't show to Paul.

We got ready to take a shower and I produced the mystery item. As I filled the bag, I asked him.

"Have you ever had an enema?"

"Uh, no. Do I need one?"

"Well, there's two ways to do this. One is quick and dirty: I get my rocks off and you tolerate my dick. The other way is the boyfriend-who-loves-you method."

"That sounds like my kind of method," he smiled.

"Mine too. Then an enema will help. You'll enjoy the experience more."

There wasn't much doubt about enjoying: he already had a boner and my mouth was already watering. I showed him how to check the temperature, how high to set the bag.

"One last thing... " I said.

He looked at me quizzically. I slid to my knees and took him to the hilt, exulting in the plenty of him, the voluptuous head at the entrance of my throat. I would have lost my heart to this boy in the instant, but it was too late. I already had. He already held my heart in his own. His love was a great, humbling, scary, wonderful, comforting thing, as was his big sweet penis. Except that wasn't scary.

It pulsed. He pulled out, chuckling, "I think that will have to do for the moment! Unless you want my Creme Brulee for dessert."

"Oh, no! Oh, no! We want you horny and needy. And... and sweet and sexy." I stood up and kissed him, with our hot boners pressed between us.

"I need to smell you," he said, sliding to his knees and sticking his nose next to my balls. He pawed at them, sniffing his fill, then stood and gingerly sampled my pits. Then he smirked and licked his lips.

"Okay, sweet boy... You are my Sweet Boy, aren't you?" Fuzzy groaned and nodded softly.

"Lean over, Baby," I breathed. I had a little lotion on my finger. "Lean over for me." And I ran my finger over his hole. He moaned and I hurried up a little. Things could go one way: he was gonna cum right now; or he was gonna make it through this with his balls still full. I wanted him full. This whole thing is ever so much better when you want it bad.

I forced some lotion into his entrance and then removed my finger, trying to be unsexy about it. I kissed him apologetically.

"This is just the bathroom, Baby. The good stuff is yet to come."

"Oh, God, don't say cu- come... It's all good stuff, with you."

"Okay, well here." I lubed the plastic butt tube and handed it to him. "It's probably best if you put this in for yourself." He did. Between the weight of the tube and the pressure in his butt, it wanted to keep sliding out.

"Oh. Okay. Push it back in as far as you can and then stand up with your butt cheeks sort of clamped together. But relax everything else."

He did, and I released the clamp, watching his face. He made a weird crooked face and then relaxed, as the water rushed in and distended his insides. His boner visibly stiffened.

"How long do I leave this in?"

"Long enough for me to clear the room so you can crap in private. You'll know when it's maxed out. Shut off the water before you run to the pot. Then repeat."

I grabbed my towel, got out of there and went to the other bathroom to take care of business, myself. When I got back, he was already going for the second round.

"I figured I'd... "

"Uh, yeah, well good. A lot more water is gonna go in, this time. I'd let it go as far in as it'll go. As much as possible. After you... get rid of all that, you'll probably want to wait a minute and do a shallow one. Then we'll take a shower."

"You mean I'll take a shower."

"No, I need another one, too."

"Well, you don't get to take another one. I want to smell you."

"But I... "

"In all your primitive wonder."

I pulled off my clothes and my arousal was... evident.

"Ahh, you're looking... primitive this evening. Homo Erectus, I'm guessing?

"Mmmm! Me primitive! Me live in cave and fuck boy!"

He smiled and sort of wiggled. The tube sticking out of his ass looked like a tail and we both laughed.

"Well, even if you are gonna make me stay grubby, I'm gonna at least rinse my butt and my feet and my face. I'll leave the balls and pits the way they are."

"And the rest of you. Behave: I want to be able to smell your personal... your person... your skin."

"Oh-kay," I agreed, feeling oddly like the blushing bride. How exactly does that work, for a guy who is supposed to be being Mr. Primitive? Gorgeous Gronk?

At last, my beautiful boy was happy and clean and we left the steam of the bathroom behind.

His mom was home by then. Paul threw on his Pj's and went to say goodnight. I stayed behind, so we wouldn't get stuck in some long parental conversation, and just sent my thanks with Paul.

At last my boy returned, soft and pink and warm and amorous. He laid down on me and we ground our fat ones together in joyous celebration. I found the weight of his body delicious and somehow confirmatory: this was real. He was real. Our love was real. His boner was real. My need to make love to him was real.

So real that I groaned as I kissed him, as I rolled him over and tenderly undressed him, as I kissed from lips to balls, pausing to devour his every sweet detail. Coming to rest with the back of his balls between my lips, humming my delight and making him pulse.

"Careful, you'll make me... "

I pulled back a little, still talking into his balls. "You're not allowed! Not 'till I'm inside you. Then you can cum."

"Okay, then STOP! Whew! Damn!"

"I love you, my sweet one."

Oh, well, I guess that whole area was his "Go" button. We'd have to work around the edges.

I slid up next to him, kissed his panting lips.

"Put your knee up," I whispered to his lips, between kisses.

I broke for a moment, looked down and gobbed up my finger with lotion. I resumed the kiss. It was tender and sincere, to be sure, but I also kissed him as a distraction, as I slid to touch his hole again. My finger found his soft trembly place and lodged in the tiny entrance. I gently began to move my fingertip in little circular strokes, finding the yielding way and working my way in, juuuust barely.

"Unh. O-oh," he whimpered, "Feels so good... " It became a wordless moan. Afraid he would go over the edge, I had a decision to make: make him come now, so the rest would be less dicey, or...

Hey, did I love him? Was it too much to ask? For me to make every effort I could, that I knew how to make, for this first time to be extra special for my boy?

"I love you, Fuzzy," I crooned, and moved in bigger circles, but less tenderly, pressing to gain quicker admittance into his heat and softness. He stiffened all over and I froze while he groaned and pulsed, his hot rigidity trapped against my side, pulsing, pulsing. When I sensed he had pulsed himself back from the edge, toward safety, I withdrew and returned with another dollop of lotion, to slide through, to tease the portal of his inner ring. His moans changed and deepened, almost singing, then gained an unearthly, ghostly rapture. I slid through as he moaned his pleasure and the enormity of his surrender. Fully within his hot softness, I froze again, not wanting to press my luck. He made a tiny sound, almost inquisitive. A moan with a question mark, which I took as an invitation. I began to move my finger in circles, in and out a little, carrying the lotion as I stretched him that first little bit.

"You know that I love you, don't you, Baby?"

He hummed his "Umm Hmm," passive and surrendered and dreamy, as I added lotion and returned, pausing at the door to be invited, pausing to hear urgency in his moans, moans of desire for penetration. Proceeding, slow and dreamy, entering him lovingly.

"Are you a good boy? Are you a good boy? Are you feeling sexy inside?"

"Oh, yeah," he breathed and slid onto my finger, accepting the pleasure, "Oh, yeah!"

"Good Boy! My Fuzzy's a clean boy," I crooned, assuming he might secretly need that assurance, "So sexy inside."

I could feel him relax and take the pleasure I was offering. I felt him embrace the pleasure in his anus. It was okay. This was okay. He trusted me with knowing that he wanted things in his bottom, that he wanted to have a boy in his bottom and that he was going to cum from something in his bottom. A penis. He trusted me and moaned for more. I gave him more with love, with tenderness and with mounting desire.

Soon it was time for a second finger. We took longer, moving slowly, languidly. This was about giving him pleasure. This, too, was intercourse. This, too, was about showing him my love, in the language of deep anal pleasure. Of acceptance. There was no doubt from the sounds he was making: his emotions were being touched at a level beyond the reach of thought. This was the deepest penetration he had yet to experience, and it was with love and tenderness that I entered my boy and helped him become big for me. Big enough, in time, for three fingers, to hear him hum in pleasure and optimism at being opened. Pleasure that impelled him to press back against my hand to gain more penetration, to experience the bigness in his hungry anus. Pleasure that impelled him to press back rhythmically against my clustered penetrating fingers.

He was certainly still aroused, but the focus of desire had largely moved from his penis to the inside. His mouth hung open as he focused on the surrender, on the tender, sweet penetration. His dick was big and tender and hot. Drooling and almost hard. It was safe to suck him a little, to harvest the copious nectar beginning to run in a strand from his tip. His fluid thrilled me and made my lips numb. I had to refrain from getting lost in the urge to just suck and luxuriate. His pressure around my fingers brought me back to earth. I withdrew and returned with more lotion. First on one finger that now easily invaded him, then two, then back to three, loaded with lotion, patiently coaxing him to surrender again and accept them, welcome them, submit to them.

"I love you baby," I crooned. He echoed my words, in a little weak voice.

"I need you inside of me. Put it inside of me. I need to feel your penis inside of me."

"Okay, baby. I know lying down seems more romantic, but we need to do it this other way, just for a little while. To make it feel good this first time. Okay?"

"Already feels good. Oh God, feels good."

"Need to do it this other way, so it will feel better for your first time. Roll over baby. Here, stand on the floor. You can lean on the bed. You know I love you. You know I'll be gentle. You know you're in control, now, don't you? I'll only go as fast and as deep as you want me to. Okay, sweet baby?"

"Yes," he said, in a little voice, "Oh yes, just put it into me."

"Okay, baby," I said, repeating the process: one finger, smooth; two fingers, languid and rhythmic; three, slow and hypnotic, slow and loving and languid and hypnotic.

"Are you ready for me, lover? Are you ready for me?"

"Ohhhhh, yes..."

I touched my tip to his slippery hole. It even went in, a tiny bit.

"Do you feel me? Do you feel me, baby?" I asked.

"Oooooh! It's so big! It's so big... Oh God, I need it. It's so bih-hig!"

I wish. I began moving, very cautiously, teasing the entrance, with no effort to penetrate him.

"Baby, I want you to feel inside you. Feel the place inside you that wants my penis. Find the place and feel it. It's just the right size and shape. It's just the size of my penis. Can you feel it?"

"Oh, God, I can feel it," he crooned dreamily.

"Does it want me? Does it want me?"

"Oh, God, it wants you. I need to feel you inside. I need to have you."

"I want you to imagine me there, loving and tender. I want you to feel the place where you want me to be. Can you feel it?" I brushed my tip across his hole as a I spoke.

"Oh, I can feel it. It's perfect. It perfect. It's just the size of your beautiful penis... " Goose bumps broke out all over him and he shuddered. I pulled away and repeated the fingers: One, soft and familiar, wiggling to give him pleasure; two, fatter and meatier, smooth and rhythmic; three, slow and hypnotic. Then my tip.

"Do you want me baby?" I crooned. And I could feel his answer. He opened and I slipped a little ways in. I felt him resist a tiny bit. I withdrew all the way, came back in... gentle, gentle...

My boy moaned, a rising sound of need. I withdrew and came back, pausing where he had stopped me before. Welcome, this time, a tiny bit deeper, then a moment of resistance. I withdrew, returned, past the previous milestone, past any resistance that I could detect.

"Are you ready for me, baby?" All I got back was a sound of desire.

"I love you," I said, and went a little deeper, withdrew a little and pressed deeper, withdrew and deeper, deeper still, until I slid home and was cradled in his softness and heat. He made a little frantic motion and I held still, waiting for him to get used to it and to ask for more. I felt him accept me, felt him grip around me and take my measure. He pressed back against me. I was in as far as I could be. He was hot and soft and he was my Fuzzy and I felt such love and pleasure. But this was about him.

I began to move a little. Just a little. He was making little sounds of effort, sounds of acceptance, sounds of effort, sounds of pleasure. I began to move in him, listening for the sounds of pleasure and satisfaction, moving more, increasing the pace, as his pleasure became more evident. My legs were getting tired.

"Ready to get back on the bed, baby?"

In answer, he tried. Naturally, we became disengaged. He climbed up enthusiastically onto all fours and stuck his ass out, presenting himself to be penetrated again. I followed him up, applied more lotion to myself, applied more to him, tenderly, intending to give anal pleasure to my boy. He moaned and insisted, demanding penis. I obliged, holding him by the hips and slowly penetrating him, as he moaned his acceptance and delight. I fucked him slowly, languidly, as he moaned and called out to me to go deeper, called my name dreamily, told me he loved me, begged me to promise that I would never stop.

"I will never stop until you've had enough of me," I promised.

"Promise me that you will never stop. Ever." Oh, I get it.

"I will never stop," I promised, fucking him languidly, "I will fuck you forever. I will love you and we will fuck together, forever."

He sighed. He had the assurance he needed to fully surrender.

We fucked gently, and Fuzzy learned to take me. He began to press back, to get me deeper.

"Let's try something else," I said tenderly. I withdrew slowly, slowly, until his body spit me out.

"Lie down and let me put some pillows under you," I said.

I got him situated, with a ton of pillows under his hips, so his legs easily and naturally rested on my shoulders. I applied more lotion. Then I positioned myself and looked into his face. In the little bits of moonlight coming through the trees, coming in through his window, I saw his face. I saw the love and the acceptance. I saw the comfort and desire. It warmed my heart and it thrilled my cock and it made my balls scrunch.

I began to enter him again and he moaned, "Oh, yes, Oh, yess... " quavery, ethereal, as if in a dream. I was fully in, deeper this way. I was fully in and pressing myself to get that tiny bit deeper, tiny bit deeper. He sighed and hummed out the tastiness of this feeling, his ass taking, consuming my penis, feasting on it.

"You are so soft," I said, "So soft inside. Do you like having my penis inside you?" His delirious little sounds were my answers.

"Do you want me? Do you want my penis deep inside your softness? Are you soft inside for me? Do you give me your softness? Do you give it to me? I love you baby, my soft baby. Give your softness to me and let me be in you deep, in you deep... deep... deep."

I held and pulsed in him. He felt it and moaned. He loved me. He accepted my penis in the very core of him. He was sweet and soft. But his dick was soft, too. I held and caressed it and it began to respond.

"This is so sweet," he said. "I love you, tender man. But can I have some "Being fucked by my strong handsome boyfriend?"

Well, now: it was my invitation.

"Hell yes, Harriet!"

I pressed myself deep, I fucked him hard. He slid his legs down and crossed them behind my butt, pulling me into him. We bucked and grunted and groaned and rutted. His ass devoured me with gusto and apparent comfort, hungry to be fed my dick. I would fuck him fast and then stop, buried forcefully to the hilt, and grind into him, while he groaned around me and moaned things about my big dick and how hard and big and deep I was. We fucked like animals. Like dirty wild animals, abandoned and happy and uninhibited. The smell of our sex filled the room. The smell of sex done strong and dirty and right.

After a while he became gentle again and asked me to fuck him tender. I did, loving him more with each glorious stroke. His voice changed and he began to moan his pleasure. He began to make sounds of loss and desire. They sounded so sexy and they sounded like the road to orgasm. "Your penis," he breathed, "Your penis," he groaned, a little petulant sound. "Your penis!" he quavered, "Your big cock... big cock, big fucking cock" he said it like a prayer. The prayers and moans got more promising, whimpery, rose, became urgent.

"Penis! Penis!" His voice called, beckoned, as if to a lover.

"Penis, penis, penis," his voice beseeched.

"Oh Penis, Oh Penis," his voice celebrated. His words aroused the hell out of me and I had my ticket: I stoked longer, deeper, the sweetness gathering. I reached down and took his penis, now arching and hard, and stoked it in time with my motions.

"Ohhh, Ohhh Penis!" His tone on the verge of triumph.

"I love you," I howled, buried myself and came in him, a wall of pleasure, buried in my love, in his heat and his softness, buried, here with him, in him, tender, soft. It swept through me. Buried in him, I shuddered and came, the release indescribable: I was every male, eternal male, wild and ancient and young and clean. I shot a load bigger than any, into the willing receptacle that was my loving boy.

"I feel it! Ohh! I feel you coming in me!" His voice closing up, as his own orgasm swept down upon him and I felt him gripping and clenching around me, milking me, as his reward shot from him and landed on his face and his body and my hand, and my hand, and my hand. And my hand. I stroked him until he giggled and then leaned down to kiss him in love and triumph.

"Did you enjoy your first time, O' Boy That I Love?"

"Oh, God! You get a gold star, a bunch of 'em."

"Trust me, I saw them myself."

Later, lying together, he was trying to describe the deep pleasure and the sense of penis worship.

"It was like being... in church. Or like church ought to be."

"Hey," he giggled, "There was even a huge organ."

"Yeah?" I chuckled, secretly pleased.

"Speaking of which: so who the hell is this Penis, anyway?"


"I love you."

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