Cody

Cunting

August 31, 2019. It was Labor Day weekend and the scheduling gods decided to be kind to me and my fag, Cody. With our three days off, we decided to spend the weekend "hanging out". And by "hanging out", yes, I mean fucking as much as possible.

We had been fucking around since Friday afternoon, mixing sex intermittently with eating, resting, and even taking a break to go to the gym.

Saturday evening, naked on the couch, we assumed our usual positions: me sitting up, him laying down with his head on my lap. We started watching John Wick 3. About 20 minutes in (antique store fight), I started to get horny. Action movies have that effect on me; go figure. Cody noticed my cock getting hard on the side of his face and began to suck on my dick.

"Go shower," I told him, rubbing his buzzed hair.

"We gonna fuck?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Oh yeah. We gonna fuck."

"Sir, yes, Sir!" he said, giving me a goofy salute and bounded off to the shower, his cute ass bouncing in his jockstrap.

I kept the movie going while I set up. I got the baby oil and the lube from the bedroom. I laid a folded padded blanket for cushioning on the coffee table between the couch and the TV and tossed a fresh sheet over it. I turned off the lights and adjusted the blinds so that only the orange glow of the setting sun filtered in.

Fifteen minutes later, Cody emerged from the bathroom. I could smell the fresh soap and eager anticipation all over him.

"Lay on your front," I said to him, pointing to the makeshift massage table.

The coffee table is small and not meant for a full body extended on it. Cody's torso lay on the table while his bottom half dangled off the end. I grabbed the baby oil and stood above and behind him. I opened the bottle and dripped oil down along the ridge of his spine. I re-capped the bottle and dropped it on the floor. Leaning forward, I began to rub it into his soft skin. His small frame felt tiny in my hands as I rubbed his delts, his shoulders, his lats, down to his waist. He moaned in soft relaxation as I felt his body melt into my hands.

I knelt down behind him and pushed his legs to the side to open his ass to me. I pressed an oiled middle finger onto his hole and it opened willingly to the pressure. I felt his ass grind slightly as I made contact with his prostate. I moved my finger around a little before retreating from his ass. I sniffed my finger to do a spot-check. It was clean with only a faint whiff of the oil. Cheek in each hand, I pulled them apart, giving my tongue access. The light flavor of baby oil was not enough to distract me from the experience of eating his ass. I could feel him twitch with every flick and lick of my tongue. Rimming isn't that different from eating pussy. You look for the reactions and you enjoy the sexual response of the aroused body part. His hole, like the rest of his body, was relaxed. It was ready.

I got up and moved to his front, kneeling down near his head. His head looked up and his mouth opened. He took my cock in his mouth slowly, sucking mostly on the head to enjoy my steady stream of precum that he knew wouldn't stop until after I came. I placed my left hand on the back of his head and leaned over his back to finger his hole. It was tight but never clenched in resistance, a tell-tale sign in that moment that a fag has accepted your hierarchical superiority in the power dynamic. He nursed on my cock until I was hard.

"Stand," I said to him. I didn't bark it as an order, but stated it as a statement of destined fact.

He stood up at relaxed attention next to the coffee table. I walked up and approached him until our bodies were centimeters apart. I leaned into his ear and spoke softly.