Page 80 of Big Britches
“Yeah? Well, it loves your catcher’s mitt—all soft, snug, and warm.”
Titus picked up the pace, stroking in and out. Pedro let his legs slip down and encompass Titus’s hips. What he could manage to, at least. He reveled in the urgency of Titus’s powerful thrusts, his head jolting with the movement.
He’s right, Pedro thought. There’s some excess aggression in there he’s tapping into.
Some men were abusive, maybe drank too much, or both. Titus had found a better way to decompress.
Lucky me.
When the slamming grew harder, he asked Pedro, breathy, “You alright? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me. It’s all good. You just let it out, baby. Let it all out.”
Permission granted, Titus sped up, crashing aggressively, deeply, desperately seeking solace. Pedro held on as best he could, his thighs gripping Titus around the waist, fastening to his relentless purge.
When fatigue eventually set in, the thrusts became lengthier, more deliberate stabs. Pedro saw the intense and delirious look in Titus’s eyes, knowing that climax was near.
“I’m gonna come, baby, and I’m taking you with me.”
Titus’s hand landed on Pedro’s cock and began stroking it. Pedro had been close for a while—the visual stimulation of being brutally pounded by his bestial lover had taken him near the edge. Now, with the added sensation of Titus’s thick fingers touching?—
Sayonara, baby.
Pedro came, bucking upward, his ejaculate spilling more than shooting from him, flowing over Titus’s fist. He squeezed at Titus’s hips with his legs, and more intimately from within.
Titus plunged a final time. He didn’t flail through his climax; the large man simply let go, collapsing on top of Pedro, all spasms involuntary and mostly internal. Pedro felt newer, expanding heat within, immense and satisfying. His body shivered with an intensity he’d yet to experience, pleasure and satisfaction so sweet he never wanted it to end. At that moment, he felt as if could lie there with Titus inside him for eternity.
But the feeling dissipated, as profound and intense revelations do when the mind and body awake from passion.
The tremors subsided, and when Titus had his fill of Pedro’s spill—lapping at his chest and stomach—they showered together. Pedro stood under the hot water while Titus washed him, velvety slick hands and suds all over his body. When he reached between Pedro’s legs, however, scrubbing at his tender underside, Pedro winced.
“What?” Titus asked. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
“I am so sorry, P. Never again. I promise I will never get carried away like that again.”
“Yes, you will,” Pedro said, turning to face him. “I insist.”
Later, after they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted and spent, Pedro awoke to find Titus gone. He climbed out of bed and went to the window. Across the yard, he saw Titus’s silhouette sitting at the table by the pool.
Outside, the warm, humid air was refreshing on Pedro’s skin, chilled from hours in the air conditioning. As he approached the pool, he announced, “I’m behind you. Don’t let me scare you.”
“You don’t scare me,” Titus answered. “I scare me.”
“I’m fine, T. Relax.” Pedro placed his calloused hands on Titus’s bare shoulders and began kneading them.
“Oh, man. You can do that forever, please.”
Pedro continued with the massage for a moment, pinpointing scant traces of tension remaining in Titus’s neck and shoulders. When he stopped, he mussed Titus’s hair before sitting down beside him. “Why are you out here?”
“Just thinking. I do my best thinking at night, by the pool.”
“What about the wintertime? Do you only think well in the summer?”
“Fireplace. I need something soothing to look at. It helps me focus.”
“What’s on your mind?”