Page 9 of Winning the Dad
“I know.”
He was ready for me.
I opened the packet and rolled a condom on, checking to make sure it was tight. I pointed at the lube. “Do I need…?”
“A little extra helps.”
I squirted out a bit and spread it around my cock.
Sawyer didn’t need to tell me to go slow. My cock was thick, so it wouldn’t be an easy fit, but I trusted him when he said he wanted this. “This position good for you?”
“Yeah. I want to see you experience this for the first time.”
I kneeled between his legs, his ass canted toward me. The tip of my cock slid into his crack, then found his hole, so beautifully open for me. I pushed.
“A little more force is okay,” Sawyer said.
I pressed harder, and with a pop, my cock slipped past his ring of muscle. Fuck, that was tight, but oh, so good…and thatwas just the tip. Sawyer’s body had tensed, and I waited until he’d relaxed. I sank an inch deeper and held again.
“Sorry. It’ll get better,” Sawyer said. “I just need to?—”
I placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t. It’s already incredible. We have time.”
Inch by inch, I worked my way inside him, and Sawyer breathed through it, panting and puffing. Another inch and his body gave way as if it had surrendered to the inevitable intrusion. My cock sank in until my balls pressed against his ass.
He was so hot, so tight, so slick. I wanted to stay there forever, but I also had to move. Jesus, the slide in and out of him was smoother than an eighteen-year-old Macallan, sweeter than a Graham’s port, silkier than a Château Lafite Rothschild. Nothing compared to this, nothing.
I pushed his legs back, and he lifted his hips so I could watch my cock disappear into him, his hole stretched to the limit around me. So. Fucking. Hot.
A slow slide and Sawyer curled his toes and moaned.
A hard thrust and he threw his head back and grunted.
A deep punch and he wriggled his ass and howled.
I found my rhythm and hammered into him.
He mumbled, babbled, whispered, groaned, whimpered, and sighed, and I kept fucking him, kept snapping my hips, kept soaking up every sound he made. He was magnificent, stunning, the most beautiful sight I’d ever laid my eyes on.
For one moment, Stacy’s image popped into my brain. We’d been so in love, but it had been sixteen years, and she was gone. I deserved to be happy, and she would’ve wanted me to be. So I let the image go with a hint of nostalgia.
“Jack,” Sawyer said. “Harder. Pound me.”
Jesus fuck, how could words be so arousing? As if he’d thrown gasoline onto a raging fire. My ears buzzed, and a haze came over me as if I was half outside my body. I sped up,pushing his legs back until I had full access, and slammed into him. Sweaty skin slapped against sweaty skin, and the squelch of my slides was a symphony. The heavy scent of sex saturated the air, spurring me on.
He was so hungry for me, so needy, and fuck, I loved it. I wanted to crawl deeper inside him, own him, mark him.
He’d wrapped his hand around his cock and was jacking himself off with uncoordinated movements, his body jerking with every plunge. I fucked him harder than I’d thought possible, and he took it, meeting me thrust for thrust, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, his back arched. “Fuck, like that…” he moaned. “Jesus, do that again. Harder… So fucking close…”
I fucked and fucked and fucked until he froze and came. His load flew from his cock, splatters coating his hands, his belly, his chest. He kept jacking off until nothing was left. Mesmerized, I watched him, languidly sliding in and out with easy strokes.
Warmth bloomed inside me, and it had nothing to do with sex or attraction. We’d connected in a way I hadn’t expected, a way that went far beyond the physical.
“Jack,” Sawyer said in a dreamy voice. He reached up and pulled my head down for a slow, sensual kiss. “That was perfect. Now it’s your turn.”
“Aren’t you too sore?”
He snorted. “Not too sore to deny you your pleasure.” He grew serious. “Show me, Jack. Let me see you come.”