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“Damn it,” I groaned, desperate for him to get to it yet loving that he wanted to take his time with me. Most guys didn’t care if I longed to be touched, coddled, or petted. They wanted to get in that ass and get the hell out. I’d gone along with that mentality, calling it my own, while deep down inside I’d wanted them to spend a little time with me. “Oh…shit, that tickles!”
He nibbled on my toes softly, then kissed each one. Ten kisses, ten toes, a dozen giggles. Finally, he tired of making love to my feet and moved up over me, stripping off my belt and then my vest, opening the buttons on my lightweight linen vest with infinite care. Peeling the vest open, he rubbed his hands on my chest, using his nails to find my nipples under the short-sleeved white shirt. I whimpered in pleasure, stroking his hair away from his temples. The black mass was overgrown, shaggy, and perfectly beautiful on him. He moved with gentle deliberateness as if unwrapping a long-wished-for gift. My balls ached and sweat coated my skin. He licked at the droplets on my chest, laying his bulk between my legs. The ache in my groin intensified as his rock-hard cock rubbed over mine.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” I began chanting, arching up as much as possible with him spread over me like a magnificent man blanket. Hot, yes, he was hot, but his weight was everything. He nuzzled at my neck. I tugged up on the back of his shirt, peeling it off his damp back and tugging it free of his head. He did the same for me. Lifting me with one strong arm, then taking my shirt and vest from my body. They fell off the side of the bed. I cared not. It was just a Hermes shirt and vest combo. “Please…I need you inside me.”
He growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating into me as he tongued a wet stripe up the side of my throat.
“Do you…touch me there…yes…” He rolled his hips as my fingers danced along his spine. The friction of stiff prick on stiff prick made me yelp. “So hot for dick, yes? My dick.”
“Yes, your dick. Please, please, Donvino, I need you in me,” I pleaded, floating my fingertips along his back to his ribs and up into his hair. I gripped handfuls of his wet locks, grinding upward, my heels driving into the thin mattress.
He kissed me hard and long, his tongue tasting of the last cool drink we’d had outside the gallery where David had moved me so. Lemon soda, citrus and cool, the taste mixing with the aroma of his lime aftershave. A citrus overload to my already maxed-out senses.
“Is it okay for you here?” he asked, easing off me and sitting back on his haunches to allow the fan to blow over me. The hot air did little to cool me off. I smiled up at him.
“It’s perfect for me here. Take off your pants,” I said, reaching for his zipper. He swiped my hand aside playfully as his gaze burned like a supernova.
“Greedy,” he joked, standing now, his fingers working on his fly. I wet my lips as he jerked the zipper down and shucked his jeans and briefs down to his ankles, bending low to bar me from seeing his cock while he removed his clothing and socks. Then he straightened, his prick jutting out of a bushy black cloud of curls, heavy balls hanging low like meaty fruit for me to mouth. He was uncut. My mouth began to water at the sight.
“Oh yes, so greedy,” I huffed, my eyes locked on his cock. I slithered to the end of the skinny bed as he stepped into my open arms. The slick head of his dick peeked out at me. I opened my mouth to lick at the weeping slit as I gently pulled back his foreskin. A deep moan floated down to me as his hips twitched. I fell on his cock like a hungry dog only with far less teeth. He surged into my mouth, his cock tickling the back of my throat. How lucky for him that I had learned to suppress my gag reflex. I hummed around his dick, the taste of him rich on my tongue. Needing more, I grabbed his ass and pressed him deeper. Soft, hot words in Italian rained down on my head as he began thrusting. My eyes drifted shut as he rocked in and out of my stretched lips. Spittle leaked out of the corners of my mouth. His fingers held my head tenderly. He eased out, leaving just the tip resting on my lower lip, his dark eyes on my face as I laved the tip of his fat cock.
“No more,” he panted, easing away, his chest and cheeks flushed, his cock leaking precum and saliva onto the back of my Hermes shirt. No shits were given. “Now I love you,” he said, pressing forward to pin me to the bed. I gasped with delight at the nudge of his cock at my hole. “I have…things. The things…shit, my brain is confused with English right now.”
I smiled at him. “I love it that I make your brain confused.” He stole a kiss, moved over me, and dug under the bed. Out came a shoebox, the lid long gone or perhaps fallen off in his mad haste to reach his pleasure box. He pulled out a tube of lube and several condoms. My balls drew up tight to my body, the tickle of an orgasm at the base of my spine. “I’m close,” I whispered, needing to touch my cock but not daring to yet. All it would take was one hard tug, and I’d be done. “Shit, I am so close.”
“This will be fast…this time. Next time, slower, yes?” He rolled a condom over his thick cock, his fingers moving shakily, as I went for the lube. With a mighty squirt, I had my fingers and cock coated as lube slithered down over my balls. Donvino knelt between my spread legs, his sight on the river of slick slipping down over my hole. He touched the furl. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugged my knees to my chest, and let my eyes close.
One rough finger breached me, then two, both stretching me, easing the tight pucker open. Tiny bursts of light went off behind my eyelids when he found my prostate.
“Oh! Oh yes, that’s…no, don’t stop,” I shouted, my eyes flying open in time to watch him move over me, his jaw set, his gaze molten. “Oh okay, yeah, come on, sweetheart, fill me up.”
“Bellisimo, cosi bello,” he whispered as he moved into me. His cockhead swelled so large that it took a moment even with the prep to get my body to accept him. I clung to his forearms, breaths huffing out of me, my cock now flagging, as he eased out and then back in. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he repeated in jagged English as his prick eased past the resistance. “Such a pretty hole, so eager for fucking.”
“It is, it is so eager,” I cried out, the fan moving a sweep of hot air over us as he thrust deeper and deeper and even deeper. He balanced on one strong arm so that he could take my dick in his hand to work it with speed. Each time his fat head bounced off that knot of glorious nerves, pegging it over and over, each time the bump harder, faster, until I was shooting all over myself and his hand. My body convulsed over and over, coating my belly and his fingers. With a grunt and one last punch of his hips that nearly sent me into the headboard, he came. His cock kicked inside me, filling the condom, his shoulders bunched and taut under my hands.
Even though it was late afternoon and sunlight shone through the slats on the dark green shutter, a thousand stars burst into life. My cock pulsed a few more times as he rocked in and out, his powerful legs driving him so far into my body it was hard to breathe.
“Donvino! Good God…holy gods above,” I panted, clinging to his biceps now, my sight clearing, then latching onto the red welts I had made on his shoulders and arms. “Oh shit…sorry…I dug you.”
“No needs for sorry,” he replied breathlessly, lowering himself onto me, my legs slowly falling open, my arms sliding around his slick back. “No sorry for the sting while I make you shout my name in pleasure.”
He kissed me, long and slow, as our bodies tried to cool. He eased out of me, making me shudder at the loss of his dick, and then wobbled to a small door beside the fridge. I’d not even noticed a broom and mop was hanging on it. The door creaked open. I rolled to my side to face the fan while trying to see what was behind the door. Just a small bath with a sink, toilet, and shower stall that looked to be far too small for a hulking man like my lover.
Mm yes, my lover. And what a lover he was. It was going to be an uncomfortable ride home on that motorbike of his, but the discomfort would be worth it. I wadded up the lone pillow on the bed, my cheek resting on the foam, and watched his backside clench, then loosen as he tended to the condom and washed up at the sink. God his ass was divine. A work of art. Easily as wonderfully crafted as Michelangelo’s David.
He turned, wet cloth in his hand, to catch me staring at him. “You like?”
“I love,” I answered, stretching and wincing at the pull on delicate areas.
He grinned widely, padding closer before sitting beside me to wipe the cum off my belly. He was intent on the job, taking only a tiny detour to bend down to lick a droplet of spunk from my collarbone before tossing the cloth to the floor and stretching out on the other side of the bed, allowing the fan to blow on me. What a gentleman.
“Shit,” he complained. “I forget the wine.”
“Mm, I could use a drink.” I moved my head to face him, kissed his elbow, and pushed to sit up. My taint was complaining about the pummeling it had taken, and my asshole was joining in on the chorus. “I’m going to need a pillow to sit on for the ride home,” I half-teased as I slowly stood. Donvino made a sound much like a proud lion after he had bred his lioness. I turned to look down on him reclining in his bed. Yes, he could have easily posed for one of the great Italian sculptors. His long frame took up all the bed. He had his hands linked behind his head, one leg straight, the other bent. His soft prick lay placidly along his thigh. The sun flowing through the slats in the shutters painted soft yellow stripes across his belly and chest, which was lightly furred. Perfection. Sheer perfection. “You are so lovely,” I confessed, not ashamed of that adoration for him in the least. Why should I not tell him the truth? Surely he knew he was pleasing to the eye.
“I am passing with push,” he replied, a ginger glow coming to his rough cheeks.
“You’re far too modest,” I said, spun, and made my way to the coffee table where our goodies had been hastily dumped.
