"I don't mind if you go first - IF you hammer the fuck out of my ass," I told my new tight end as he hurriedly lubed my hole and his cock. I was leaning against the kitchen counter where Jeff had unexpectedly pinned me, his boner pressed into my crack, and asked me if I'd pass on my turn to top. I didn't mind at all.
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I moaned involuntarily as the big flared mushroom head of Jeff's thick cock entered me and eased in a couple of inches or so. I wanted all of him inside me and was already pushing back on him, trying to shorten the remaining distance he had to travel as quickly as I could.
Don't get me wrong, I like to fuck a hot dude in the ass as much as the next guy - and I now know that I REALLY like to fuck extra hot 18-year-old football player(s) under my tutelage in their firm, muscular asses, but what makes me crave bottoming, and REALLY makes me crave serving as the bottom to the seemingly perpetually hard extra hot 18-year-old football player(s) under my tutelage, is the unparalleled intimacy of having a cock buried balls deep in my ass.
There's simply no other way, for me, anyway, to feel so intimately connected to a guy I'm into than for him to fill me all the way. Sure, I get a good piece of that connectedness when I'm topping a guy, I'm into, but not as much of it as when the roles are reversed. Let's face it, I'm considered to be queer because I love cock, especially other guys' cocks, so it's natural that I prefer for their cocks to be inside me.
Another thing's that's obvious as fuck by now is that I was in the process of falling hard for the 18-year-old who was in the process of filling me up, but good, although I didn't yet know just how hard I was falling. I fucking relished the feeling of Jeff's powerful cock filling up and pushing out the smooth muscle walls of my rectum as he slowly pushed deeper, conquering all the empty territory he could possibly conquer.
Jeff wasn't quite all the way in yet, and I didn't know at that point that I was on the very cusp of being fucked like I'd never been fucked before, and like I'd always dreamed of being fucked. When he thrust in hard one more time, he had gone essentially far as he could go; as much of it as he had, he'd finally run out of cock.
To be sure, he could (and would) pull that big cock of his most of the way out and ram it back in just as deep, over and over and over again, but he wasn't going to get any deeper, not more than another centimetre or two. When Jeff got as deep as he could go that first time, and just before he began the first of his many long retreats down my rectum before charging all the way back uphill only to retreat again, I asked him to pause right where he was. I love the feeling of a big cock parked deep inside me, resting - and throbbing like a heartbeat - just before the series of retreats and charges begin in earnest.
It's really not a big deal to an experienced ass fucker, but Jeff wasn't that yet, and in however much adolescent ass fucking he'd thus far managed, he'd never before experienced the pleasure of having an experienced bottom kegeling his cock at full depth, of feeling the bottom's rectum deliberately and rhythmically clenching and releasing his swollen cock, time after time, effectively creating a controlled spasm.
And of course, he fucking loved it, so much that he almost didn't tell me to stop, to cut that shit out, in time. How was he to know that he could blow his load in my ass without moving his cock at all? Fortunately for me, he did figure that out in time and told me to cut that shit out before he nutted (and I missed out on the fuck I'd been dreaming of for so long). Of course, I didn't know that then. After another minute of rest while Jeff's sap ran back down into his heavy nuts, we both thought it was past time for him to start really fucking me.
He did really start fucking me then. I don't know where he'd had his hands before, but as he began his first long retreat and then slammed all eight inches all the way home, both of his hands were hands were firmly gripping my shoulders, and they remained there throughout that epic fuck.
That fuck wasn't epic because Jeff, at 18, was some exceptional cock artist, because he wasn't. Nor was he without skill - he moved pretty well with me, he varied his pace, tempo, pattern, movement and the like throughout. He came very close to orgasm three or four times before, after first asking my acquiescence, he finally allowed himself to explode convulsively deep inside me as his heavy balls continued slapping hard and fast against my ass.
No, that fuck was epic mainly due to two factors, Jeff's sheer physical strength and his uncommon stamina, the latter aided in part by the fact that he'd only recently drained his balls. Think about having eight inches of cock up your ass - a pleasant thought - that cock rapidly withdrawing six or seven inches on every counter stroke and then slamming back to full depth. Each stroke and counter stroke takes, what, ten seconds, at most?
And that basic pattern of hard, emphatic fucking, with the occasional variation of tempo and pace, and only three or four brief pauses to forestall orgasm, lasted an incredible 15 minutes. And I was fucking him back like any experienced bottom would do. It was an amazing performance that left me, once he'd finally erupted, lying on my kitchen floor gasping for breath, with Jeff panting beside me.
"Do you always fuck like that?" I asked after a few minutes. We were both completely spent, drenched in sweat, and sweat was pooling on the floor.
"No," he laughed, "but I've never fucked anyone I never wanted to stop fucking before." Of course, I liked hearing that.
"Hot tub?" I asked as I began to grow uncomfortable, despite my well fucked feeling, on the stone floor.
If the act of fucking alone could induce love, I thought, Jeff might've just made a high school football coach fall in love with him. While that may be a preposterous thought, I knew that what I was feeling for Jeff was stupidly, preposterously, dangerously close to love.
