His grin is so hellacious.
I roll him over, and I massage him just about everywhere.
Not his cock.
Not his balls.
I do rub his upper thighs, though, coming close to those parts of his body but not giving in, and eventually, he growls. His cock is dripping, and I know this is torture for him.
“No growls. No groaning. No nothing. Keep it in. Let that sexual frustration build. Keeping quiet won’t be easy, but it will make it better.”
He nods.
With my pointer finger, I rub the tip of his cock, lubing the tip with his pre-cum. Then, I hold up my finger and make a show of using my other hand to spread the pre-cum down over my entire finger and then pretend to lick my finger.
Instead, I situate myself between his legs and grab his ass cheek with my other hand, prompting him to lift up slightly, and I use that hand to then spread him open wide, not just his legs but everything down there.
I stroke his cock all of two times, tease his balls, and then I dip my finger a little lower and press against his puckered hole. He tightens up, but I make soothing sounds and rub the opening, not trying to go inside yet, and he slowly, ever so slowly eases up. I press with the tip of my finger, and it takes a little bit for him to allow me in.
“Just relax,” I murmur. “Bear down. Trust me. You’ll love it.”
“I…” I freeze.
Crap. Should we have a safe word?
“If you want me to stop,” I say, “say so now. I mean it.”
He lifts his eyebrows.
"If you're okay with this and trust me, nod. If you trust me but want me to stop, say no. And if you don't trust me and want me to stop—"
He nods.
My heart swells, and I smile shyly at him. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I know that stimulating the prostate is supposed to be euphoric for guys, and considering the way he reacted to this, he’s never had this done before.
I push my finger in a little more, not much. He has to adjust, and I go slowly, but finally, my finger is all the way in. I wiggle it a bit, hoping I'm hitting his prostate.
“Fuck,” he mouths.
“Good,” I encourage.
I move my finger in and out a little, and it doesn’t take long. His cock moves a bit, and I grab it with my free hand, stroking it lazily, wanting most of the sensation that he feels to be from his ass, and it doesn’t take long at all for him to come all over his stomach.
“Oh, shit,’ he says.
“You got that right,” I say with a laugh.
“You need to get your finger out.”
“I know. Just relax. I’ll go slow.”
And I do, but when I pull my finger all the way out, he still jumps.
“That felt like I shit myself.”
I giggle. “Well?” I demand.
“Not being able to talk, to moan…”