The Good Guy

GG and I snuggle on his bed, head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me tracing lines on my bare back as we talk about our favorite subject, me.

“I bet I’m the only straight guy friend you have that has never tried to fuck you,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “And that weirds you out.”

I look up at him, rolling the thought over in my head and weighing the truth of his assumption. It was true that I had taken advantage of his irresolute to fuck me. We kissed when I wanted to kiss, only went as far as I wanted, and he never grumbled once. For years he’d been a friend, a confidante, someone who took time to know me, really know me.

“You’re beautiful,” he says before I could rebuttal. His eyes are genuine, serene and intoxicatingly blue. The whiskey is intoxicating.

“Babe, could you pass me my drink,” I ask trailing kisses down his chest, skin soft and radiantly warm.

I straddle him as I reach for the whiskey on the rocks, the sweat residue slipping down and dripping onto him like little bombs exploding upon impact. With GG having more confidence than James Bond and never pressing for sex he is all chase. He would never take the bait. It would have to be offered on a silver palette.

I kiss him a little rougher, sloppier, drunker than I want. He tastes familiar, easy, and appreciative. He wants to be loved as much as he loves. GG is respectable and continually redefines the word the more I know him. I want to fuck him. I wanted to fuck him the night before, a year before, but he never pressed. Always went where I led him.

“This is happening.” I can taste the want on my lips, from him, from me, us, together. He kissed me earlier and my body collapsed into butterflies and goose bumps. Those tingle feelings when your body falls in love before your heart does.

I want him inside me. I want to look into those big, blue eyes and feel something with someone who I actually like instead of pretend, someone who loves me for me, knows me and still stands by my side.

His dick is bigger than I expect and pushes out a labored moan, such sweet release to feel a good cock after two years of foreplay. I press into him as much as he into me. “Connect to me,” he says and locks eyes with me as he pounds into me harder and faster. He feels amazing. Good things come to those who wait.

“I won’t come until you do,” his sweat drips onto me.

“Baby,” I can barely breathe. “You’re good to go.”

I flip over, showing my best assets, circling my hips as he thrusts into me faster and with a resolve. I feel my cunt spasms and everything intensifies till he twitches within me, convulsing before explosion. I am satisfied, filled with post coitus emotions combined with a feeling of washed over warm love. Twice over, I could melt in his arms.

He sighs. “You going to runaway now?”

“Are you worried I’m going to runaway?”

“No, not worried. I expect it.” He smiles and I fall a little further.

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