“I wore leather pants in September in Arizona,” he said.
“Yeah. Didn’t think that through, did you.” And since I was still magnanimous, I sat up on the bed, deciding I should help him. I tried not to laugh as we both jerked on his pants to no avail. “This is amazing.”
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“No, really. It is. Here, lay on the bed.”
He sighed as he did. I stood up in front of him and pulled his legs up, grabbing the bottom of the leather pants near his feet. I grunted as the muscles in my arms tensed as I tried to jerk the pants down. “Help me!”
“I’m trying,” he growled at me, pushing down the top of the pants. I knew we were getting close when his dick popped out, pale and slender and lovely. I ground my teeth together as I pulled as hard as I could.
I should have known that they’d come off. I had my heart set on it, after all. But imagine my surprise when they shot off and I fell backward onto the floor, leather pants slapping against my face and landing on my head.
“So,” I said in the silence that followed, unable to see anything. “Can we pretend that was very erotic and you’ve never been more turned on in your life?”
He started bellowing laughter.
What a jerk.
I pulled the pants off my head and dropped them to the floor. He was rocking back and forth on his back, arms wrapped over his stomach as he held his sides. The fucker had tears in his eyes, he was laughing so hard.
“Y-y-you should s-see the l-l-look on your face!” he howled.
“I hate you so goddamn much,” I mumbled as I pushed myself up off the floor. His laughter was cut off as I crawled up on top of him. His skin was heated and sweaty, but I liked the way it felt. He was smiling as I put my face near his. He reached up and cupped my cheek as I settled on top of him, my cock against his.
“That was pretty great,” he said.
I leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “Only the best for you.”
His smile faded as I reached down between us, gripping us both. I jacked us off slowly, relishing the way we felt together. I rocked my hips in time with my hand, thrusting up against him. He bit his bottom lip. I leaned down and did the same.
“Stuff’s in the top drawer,” he said, his lips against mine. “If that’s what you want.”
It was.
I sat back on him. I leaned over to the small nightstand next to the bed. I found a pump bottle of lube and a box of condoms, unopened. I hid my smile as I set them on the bed next to him.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” I told him conversationally. “You’re going to stretch me open while I suck your dick. And then I’m going to ride you.”
He gaped up at me.
No time like the present. He’d figure it out.
I turned around carefully, not wanting an accidental injury to end the festivities. My knees were on either side of his chest, and he ran his hands up the backs of my thighs to my ass. He grunted when I took him in my mouth. He smelled of clean sweat as I pressed my nose against his balls, my throat working around him.
“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, and then there was a wet finger or two pressing against my asshole. I sucked him harder as he pressed the finger into me, the burn causing my throat to constrict slightly. He was gentle and careful, stretching me open at a leisurely pace.
A little while later, he slapped my ass. “Turn around.”
I let his dick fall out of my mouth. It slapped wetly against his stomach. My lips were numb, and I wiped spit from my chin. I crawled back around to see him tearing at a condom wrapper with his teeth. He spit a piece of it to his side and pulled the condom out. He was about reach between us to put it on, but I shook my head and took it from him. “I wanna do it.”
He nodded as he settled back against the bed. “Okay.”
I slid the condom onto his dick, squeezing the base. He made a wounded noise, the muscles in his stomach contracting. I chuckled darkly as I reached for the lube. I pumped it, getting more than enough. I slid my hand over the rubber, never taking my eyes from his. “Still good?” I asked him quietly.
“Still good,” he whispered.
I leaned down and kissed him before sitting back up. I wiped my hand on my shirt. I’d have to borrow one of his later, and the thought shouldn’t have done as much for me as it did.