Page 61 of Muscle Cub

He broke the kiss. “Did you want to do this, or… can I just move things along?”

“Sure,” I spluttered, not sure my dick would stay hard long enough to fuck him.

Austin reached back to lube himself, biting his tongue and making a silly face, and then he flipped around to our original position and pushed back against me.

My spit-slicked cock slid up the crease of his ass. The sensation was staggering, but I was already getting in my head wondering if there still might possibly be some ED medication in my system.

Austin’s expression shifted. It was subtle, but he’d detected the worry in my eyes. “You’re not going all the way in yet.” His tone was nonchalant, cocky and confident. “Trust me. This’ll be every bit as good.”

He reached back and angled my cock down so I was encased between his thighs in a tunnel of hairy flesh. He crossed his ankles and clenched his leg muscles, tightening around me. He was a few inches taller than I was, the perfect height for an interfemoral fuck.

I wonder if he knows that word… Not the time for a vocabulary lesson, brain.

I pushed and then dragged my cock through the sticky, hairy tunnel between his ass, his taint, and his thighs, the head nudging his sac.

Damn. This was almost as good as fucking, and I didn’t have to worry about how hard I was.

Austin grinned at me in the mirror, and as if he’d read my mind, said, “Right?”

“You feel incredible,” I panted, clinging to his hips and thrusting, watching him—watching us—in the mirror.

Austin stood up straight and leaned back against my chest.

I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into the muscle at the base of his neck. I looked like some kind of predator. I wanted to bite him hard. I wanted to eat him alive.

He stroked himself over the sink basin, his balls pressed against the edge of the vanity, forced down and away from his cock. I loved the way that felt, a surprise benefit of the new, taller counter height.

“You think you can come?” he asked, his voice ragged.

Fuck, I was close. “Yeah.”

“Do it.”

His goading flipped a switch in me, and my legs started to tremble with my impending orgasm.

Austin stroked himself faster, his hand a blur.

I came hard, shuddering, my mouth open in a silent expression of shock. Almost losing my balance, I hung on to him.

Austin cursed as his cum flew across the sink, one blast glazing the faucet, a few more disappearing against the white porcelain, the last of it coating his knuckles.

His gaze found mine in the mirror, he smiled, and I had no words.

22

We had to take turns showering because the clawfoot tub and circular curtain couldn’t safely accommodate two grown men.

I’d never regretted a historically accurate design decision more.

“Do you wanna stay and”—I was so nervous to ask, my throat clicked—“hang out?”

“That’d be nice.”

Austin had left his gym bag in the Jeep, but I assured him I could find some comfortable clothes that would fit him. I liked seeing him in my things.

Charles had never worn anything of mine, other than the few times he borrowed a jacket off the hook by the door to run out and grab mail in the rain.

My drawstring sweatpants clung to Austin’s ass and cock even better than I’d hoped. He chose a ribbed white tank that showed off his muscular shoulders.