Humping My Hung Buddy 04: Butt Fucking (Patreon)

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Humping My Hung Buddy

Chapter 4: Butt Fucking

I was still on my hands and knees facing the wall.

"You can just fuck me," I said.

And the room was silent. This is a guy who told an entire lunch table what special sauce was at normal volume, with his mouth full. And he said nothing for so long that I turned my head to check he was still there.

"Are you serious," he said.

"Yeah."

"Like actually. Are you actually serious."

"Yeah."

He wiped his palms on his own thighs. "Will it hurt?"

"Probably."

"Should I do something first? Do I need to, like, do the fingers again?"

"I already did a... cucumber. Just stick it in before I change my mind. Use the oil."

He reached for the bottle and his hand was not steady. I heard the cap. He put too much in his palm and some of it ran off his wrist onto my leg and the bedspread.

"Tell me if I'm doing it wrong," he said.

"I will."

He got up on his knees behind me on the bed, both of us facing the wall, and I put my forearms down and dropped my forehead close to the sheet. His hand settled on my hip, and then the blunt head of him pressed up against me, hot, too big, and so much wider than the cucumber had been that I understood immediately that my preparation had been insufficient.

He pushed.

"AH," I said, through my teeth. "Ah, ah, fuck."

It went past burning, like my body was taking on a serious risk, and I just braced as my heart beat through my chest, telling myself, people do this every day, probably. And it just kept going and kept going and there was so much more of him behind it.

He started to pull back. "Okay, I'm..."

But feeling the monster retreat literally rubbed me the wrong way. I reached back and got a hand around his hip and locked him where he was.

"Keep it in," I said. "Just... go slow."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, facing forward.

He held still with his hands on my waist and both of them shook against me. I breathed into the sheet. We stayed like that with him buried halfway in me and neither of us saying anything, my whole lower half one enormous pressure, and then something in me let go a notch and the burn subsided, slightly.

"Okay," I said. "A little more."

He fed another inch into me and I grunted into my forearm and my back dipped, and then that eased off too, and the pain turned over into something heavy and full that spread up through me.

"Am I hurting you."

"No."

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

He got maybe five strokes into it. Shallow ones, careful, barely pulling out at all, his hands gripping my hips and his breath getting ragged behind me.

"Oh my God," he said. "Dude, it feels so good. It's so warm."

"Yeah?"

"It's so warm, it's..."

And that was it. He drove in once more and locked up, his dick pulsed inside me as his whole body came down over my back, chest to my spine, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, both hands clamped on my hips. I felt every throb of him releasing in there, one after another after another, his hips twitching forward with each one.

Neither of us moved. He stayed folded down on me, breathing on my back, hair dripping cold onto my skin. My arms shook and I locked my elbows so they'd stop.

He laughed once into my back, an embarrassed little wheeze.

"That was fast," he said. "Bro, I'm sorry, that was so fast, I didn't even..."

"Can you keep going?"

He lifted his head up off my back. "What?"

"You're still hard."

He paused for a second, then straightened up behind me, hands settling back on my hips, and pulled halfway out and pushed in again, cautiously, and I heaved a big breath into the sheet. It was still too much. It was still a whole dick, and a big one. But the burn had faded away somewhat during his first round, and what came instead when he sank into me was this deep, dragging fullness that lit a heat low in my stomach, an oblique kind of good, arriving from a strange new angle that I had never really associated with sex. It wasn't even in my dick, just a good feeling radiating from my ass through my abdomen. And his load from the first round had added a new dimension to the lubrication, everything in there hot and smoothly coated, so every stroke slid more smoothly than the one before it.

He stroked into me again and my breath came out shaky.

"Is that bad?" he said.

"No. Keep doing that."

He did. And somewhere in the middle of all that heaving I caught my own hips pushing back at him.

"Dude," he said. "You're pushing back."

I didn't answer. 

"Hold still," I said a minute later, and he froze, buried in me. I put a hand flat on the bed and started walking my knees around underneath myself, one leg at a time, keeping my ass pressed back onto him for the whole rotation, and the thick length of him corkscrewed in me while I turned, which nearly buckled my arms. He followed my ass with his hips, and my dick swung up hard against my stomach halfway around. By the time I got onto my back with my legs on either side of him, we were face to face, and he had never once come out of me.

"No way," he said, looking down at where we were joined. "It stayed in that whole time."

"Yeah."

"That's crazy."

Then he came down over me, planting his elbows on either side of my ribs, and started up again, and this time he had abandoned being careful with me, He nailed me with short, quick thrusts, barely pulling back at all, his hips snapping into me in a rapid little rhythm like a rabbit, and his head dropped and rested on my collarbone. Every breath rushed out of him across my chest and neck in hot bursts that tickled, and he didn't slow down even slightly.

I put my arms around his back and held on, reaching down toward his ass.

He bounced on me like that longer than I thought he could. He always seemed to cum so fast, even for a second round, and he held a more athletic pace than I had seen in him before. His whole body worked at it, his back flexing under my hands, his ass rising and falling, his balls swinging down against me.

My own dick stayed trapped between our stomachs, hard, smearing wetness onto both our abs. This was the guy who came six times in a jacuzzi, and I lay under him and took every stroke of it and honestly just admired him, the sweat forming on the back of his neck, the little grunts timed to his hips, the machine of him running at full speed on top of me.

And then I decided it was time.

I clamped one arm around his back, hooked a leg over his, and rolled us. He slipped out of me in the roll, and I put him flat on his back and knelt up between his legs with my dick standing straight off me, shining with oil.

"Your turn," I said.

"What?"

I didn't answer as I reached over him for the olive oil on the nightstand. He watched me pour it into my palm. He watched me grease myself up with a slow fist, root to head, twice. He didn't move and he didn't close his legs.

I grabbed the backs of his thighs and lifted them, folding him toward his own chest, his heavy balls rolling back, that smooth pink spot pointed up at me, the same one my fingers had opened an hour before. I set the head of my dick against it and pushed slowly.

He clamped shut at first, one hard flinch that ran the length of his body. Then his breath dropped out of him and his body remembered its boy lesson, and it subtly loosened up, before giving in to my dick. The head of me popped past his ring, and he groaned at the ceiling with his mouth wide open while I sank into him an inch at a time. He gripped down on every inch I fed him, hot and tight and dragging at me, and I understood, from the other side of it now, why he had lasted five strokes.

"Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God, dude."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes. Keep going."

I bottomed out against him, hips flush to his ass, and held there, and watched his eyebrows knot up and then slowly unknot. His dick had never gone soft through any of it. It lay up his stomach, thick and hard, drooling a fresh string that puddled in his navel.

I pulled back and drove in. And again. And it built from there until my hips were clapping against his ass cheeks in a steady rhythm, the bed frame knocking the wall, his body rocking up the sheet with every impact and his dick slapping his stomach.

And I reached up and laid my hand on his neck.

Just like that first time I humped him directly, my fingers curling around the side of his throat, his heartbeat tapping in my palm, his eyes getting wide, snapping onto mine and locking on. Except this time I closed my hand more firmly, squeezing, just enough that a rough scraping sound climbed up out of his throat and buzzed against my fingers.

Both of his hands shot up and grabbed onto me, one clamping my waist, the other flat on my chest, hanging on for balance while I hammered into him. He wasn't pushing me off. He was holding on.

"I'm gonna cum in you," I said.

"Okay," he said, his voice cracking.

I shoved in deep and squirted off inside him, long hard pulses, my hips jerking forward with each one, the same way he had done it to me. Right in the middle of cumming, I felt some of his own load drip down to my balls, my hole pulsing, still strangely sore, but that only made it better. 

My hand stayed on his throat and his heartbeat slammed against my palm while I pulsed inside him, and he reached down for his own dick. I batted his hand away and wrapped my fist around him myself, stroking him firmly, still buried to the balls. He barely made it five strokes before he shot off, thick spurts splattering up his abs, and his hole clamped down on my dick in waves with every squirt. I kept rocking, slower, smaller, riding it out until there was nothing left in me to give him.

Then the room suddenly reappeared, like I had forgotten the entire world was there, both of us shining with sweat. I took my hand off his neck and watched the color even back out from a deep red where my fingers had pressed, to his pale whiteness. My arms trembled, so I let his legs down one at a time, and they slid off my hips and sprawled open on the towel, heavy, finished. I stayed planted in him and just breathed, and he breathed under me, his stomach rising and falling against mine, and neither of us said anything while everything slowed down together, his heartbeat coming down, my hips resting against him, the sweat starting to cool between us.

I pulled out slowly. He hissed and clenched, his whole midsection curling up an inch off the bed, and then he flattened back out with one long exhale that emptied him completely. A little of my load followed me out of him and slid down onto the towel, and I watched it happen, my cum leaving my best friend's body.

I dropped onto my back next to him, shoulder pressed to his shoulder. My legs felt like I had sprinted somewhere far away. My dick rested against my thigh. His was still half hard on his stomach, and the sheet under us was a crime scene of oil and sweat and both of our loads, and I could not have cared less.

His breathing slowed next to mine until they were almost the same breathing.

"So," he said. "I guess that's what butt fucking is like."

"Yeah," I said. "No homo."