cherry. I knelt between his muscular thighs, feeling the long, silky brown hair that covered them stroking me like eager fingers, and lifted his legs up a bit to give better access to his bunghole. I had rimmed him several times already, so I knew what his funky bung would smell and taste like, and I was as happy as a hog in slop. He had evidently planned this, because he had washed super-clean, and his slightly brownish rosebud was ready for my snarky tongue. I licked and smooched and nibbled, and chewed his firm ass cheeks a little, and licked his balls and the underside of his cock and back towards his prostate, until he was relaxed and groaning with pleasure.

When I thought he was ready, I brought up my own hard dong to the entrance of his cave, and placed the condom-sheathed tip right up against his virgin hole. I thought about being gentle, but he had said that he wanted to feel a man’s dick up his ass, so in memory of his first thrust into me, I suddenly rammed it home all the way, full force, burying my spike in his ass all the way to my pubes.

Ron gasped, and groaned, but he grabbed my ass cheeks and said “Oh! Yeah! Give it to me! All the way! Just like that! Yeah!”

I left myself fully impaled in him for a minute, rotating my ass to let his muscle rings get used to the idea, my hands tightly clutching his broad shoulders, my mouth sucking and biting his neck to distract him from the pain further below. I pulled out a bit, until the tip of my cock was almost outside of his ass, and then rammed home again. Ron yelped again, and clutched me tighter to him, and I buried my face in the pillow next to his, and cheek-to-cheek, started to power-fuck his tight ass just the way he had done me.

I had never before felt so little emotion in a fuck – this was just my dick ramming into his perfect body, all hard muscle and slick sweat and funky smell and salty taste, and I could have been fucking any hot stud off the Chippendale’s calendar, for all I knew or cared. Somewhere in all this, some part of my mind filed away the idea that, “This must be what it feels like for someone as compulsive as Ron – no thought, no emotion, just raw sex.”

I somehow was aware of my own approaching climax, and Ron hugging me tight to him and repeating endlessly, like a mantra, “Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me, Stud! Fuck! Hot! Stud!”

The rush came suddenly, and I filled that poor condom with a gallon of hot sperm – too bad there would be no kids from this one, as I had enough flow for triplets, at least! I collapsed on top of Ron’s broad, heaving chest, and tasted the salt of what was either a rivulet of sweat – or a tear – on the cheek