My Friend Showed Me How Big It Gets 06: Sex (Patreon)

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My Friend Showed Me How Big It Gets

Chapter 6: Sex

I answered him by shoving him in the chest with both hands.

He fell over backward onto the mattress, even though he could have stayed upright with one arm if he wanted to. He just went back. His head hit the pillow and his arms opened up beside it, palms up, and he lay there flat and grinning at me in the dark with his chest still moving.

I swung a leg over him and planted my knees on either side of his hips and sat down on his stomach. Both of us naked. Both of us sticky, him from what he had all over his own abs, me from where I had leaked onto his hip.

His abs were hard under my butt. I could feel them shift when he breathed, my balls pressed down and spread over his skin.

This was a guy who could have picked me up by the ribs and thrown me across the room, and he was under me with his arms up by his ears like I had a gun on him, staying there while I sat on him. My heart pounded so hard I thought he could probably feel it through my thighs. He smiled at me, curiously waiting to see what I would do.

"I don't even know what I'm doing, bro," I said.

He laughed, which moved me up and down an inch. He put one hand flat on my thigh and the other on my hip, and the hand on my thigh basically covered the whole top of it.

"I don't either," he said.

I looked down at him from up there. That giant chest with my two boy hands spread out on it, my fingers not getting anywhere near the outside edges of him, his mouth still shiny from blowing me. I folded down onto my elbows on either side of his head and kissed him instead, my chest against his chest, my hips still sitting on his stomach.

He kissed me back with his hand moving up to the back of my ribs and holding me there.

I stayed like that a while, propped on my forearms over him, our mouths coming apart and going back together, until he turned his head half an inch and said it into the dark next to my ear.

"I want you to do it to me."

I sat back up. All the way up, off his stomach, onto my heels on his thighs, and I stalled out there with my hands on my own knees like an idiot.

"You want me to," I said.

"Yeah."

"Like."

"I want you to do it," he said again, his hands still open beside his head where I had put them. "I've thought about it."

"That's so gay, dude."

"I know."

I climbed off him and shuffled backward on my knees toward the foot of the bed, and he rolled onto his stomach and dragged the pillow down under his hips.

Getting him settled took forever, because we could not stop messing with each other. I smacked him lightly on one of those dense butt cheeks and watched it move, and he kicked backward at me and got me in the arm. I grabbed his ankle. He said something into the pillow I couldn't hear at all.

"What."

"Move the towel, dude." The wet towel from drying his hair was bunched up under his ribs. He lifted his chest an inch and I yanked it out and threw it at the closet.

I put a hand on the back of each thigh and pushed them apart, and he huffed a laugh into the pillow and I lost it again, and then we were both wheezing with our faces in the mattress trying not to make any sound at all, because his parents were down the hall.

Then he settled down, his arms folded up under the pillow, face turned sideways, that big bare back going down into the two cheeks lifted up on the pillow with the moonlight on them, and me kneeling behind him.

I reached sideways off the bed without getting off my knees and got the lotion off his desk. I squeezed way too much into my right palm, an absurd amount, a handful, and the bottle made a loud wet honk when I did it.

We both froze solid. His shoulders started shaking and I had to put my clean hand over my own mouth.

"Shut up," I whispered.

"You shut up."

I spread my left hand out on his lower back to hold him down and put one finger into him, and it was that same small vice grip I already knew from earlier, except now it was tighter, gripping around my knuckle and pulling.

"Slower," he whispered.

I went slower.

"Okay. Okay."

I worked it in and out until he stopped clenching, and then I put a second one in with it, and his whole back moved under my left palm. He reached back over his own shoulder blade, blind, found my forearm and turned my wrist about a quarter inch to the left.

"There," he said. "Like that."

I did it like that. He put his arm back under the pillow and breathed slowly and evenly into it, and I knelt there behind him doing that for a couple of minutes with my hands shaking hard enough that I had to keep resetting them.

Then I got up on my knees behind him, right up against the backs of his thighs, one hand around my own dick and the other spread on his lower back, and I could not find it.

I poked the wrong spot. Then I poked it again. Then I slid up off him entirely and had to start over, and I did that twice more, and it became a problem.

He turned his head sideways on the pillow and looked at me out of one eye.

"Are you seriously lost right now."

"It all feels the same from here, bro."

"It does not."

"Do you have a map, or..."

He reached back blindly along his own hip, got his fingers around my dick, and put it exactly at his hole.

"There," he said. "Genius."

I was slick from the lotion in his hand and he was hard too, trapped underneath himself against the pillow, leaking a wet spot into the sheet that I'd already felt with my knee.

I pushed.

His entire back seized up under my palms and that high, boyish noise came out of him into the pillow, the same one from before, and then he got a word out.

"Stop. Stop, it's too much."

I froze completely. I took my hands off him and held them up in the air like I'd touched a hot stove, and neither of us moved at all. I could hear the house. I could hear him breathing through his nose in that slow way he does after a workout set.

He adjusted his hips a little on the pillow. Then a little more.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, go."

I went. Short careful strokes, barely anything, and both of us kept holding our breath in patches and letting it out at the same time, listening for the hallway, and the frame gave one creak that made us both stop dead before I started again.

Then he pushed back at me.

"Harder," he said.

"You sure?"

"Harder." He said it again with his fist balled up in the pillowcase.

I put my left hand flat between his shoulder blades and gave him what he asked for.

He took it. His back stayed tight under my hand and his breathing turned ragged into the pillow and every so often he pushed himself backward to meet me. My own noises were getting away from me and I bit down on my lip to keep them in.

I folded down over him without stopping, my chest on his sweaty back, and dropped my face into the pillow next to his. Our cheeks pressed together. I could feel his jaw shift every time he breathed, both of us panting into the same few inches of pillowcase, his stubble scraping me on every thrust.

Then his arm came out from under the pillow and bent back over his own shoulder, that ridiculous flexibility of his, and his palm reached the side of my head and pulled my face around to his mouth. We kissed sideways, half into the pillow, his neck craned at an angle that would have snapped mine, tongues and teeth and zero coordination, and neither of us stopped moving while we did it.

Now it feels like sex, I thought to myself.

The part where my dick was inside him was honestly the smallest part of it. My mouth was on his mouth and my stomach was on his back and my thighs were spread over his thighs, every inch of me pressed onto some inch of Finn, the two of us rocking together like one animal in the moonlight.

He hummed into my mouth. I pushed back up onto my hands and he shoved himself back at me harder.

I got down onto my left forearm along his back and snaked my right hand down between his stomach and the pillow. He was already soaked down there, slippery all over the head and running down my fingers, and I stroked him from underneath while I kept moving, my chest lying on his back, my mouth by his ear.

He started squirting into the bedding in seconds, with his whole body clamping down around me so hard I had to stop, and then he started laughing. Mid-orgasm, still pulsing in my fist, wheezing into the pillow while it was actively happening to him, exactly like he did on the couch. That set me off, and I finished inside him a few strokes later with my face pressed into the back of his neck, and then I was laughing too, both of us shaking, both of us trying to do it silently and failing, my hand still down there and everything still going.

"Stop laughing," I whispered.

"You stop."

"I'm not finished yet, dude."

"That's a you problem."

Cleanup happened half sitting up in the dark and it was not done well. He got a T-shirt off the floor and used it on himself and then handed it to me like that was a gift. The pillowcase was destroyed. He balled it up and kicked it off the end of the bed under the frame and we both looked at where it went.

"Your side's worse," he whispered.

"That is your cum. All of that is yours."

"It's on your side, though."

"It's your bed."

"Yeah but I always sleep on this side. Sorry nothing I can do about it."

We argued about it in whispers for another minute, and then we lay back down on our sides facing the same way, my smaller body nestled behind him, my knees behind his knees. He reached back over his own shoulder, found my arm, hauled it over him and pressed it flat against his chest, and held it there with his hand on top of mine.

My mouth was about an inch from the back of his neck.

"Hey," he said, not turning around. "That was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Yeah," I said into his hair. "Same."

He reached down without letting go of me, caught the blanket, and dragged it up over the both of us, tucking it in at my shoulder.

"My back hurts," he said.

"From the bands?"

"No."

I grinned into the back of his neck and he felt me do it, I know he did, because his thumb moved once over my knuckles.

"Let's do it facing each other next time," he said.

"Next time?"

Finn just pulled my arm up tighter into him, holding it tightly against his chest.