Head Boy - Sex Stories

Head Boy

... leaned into it and let it wash over me, redirect my thoughts, re-apportion my bloodflow...

I strode into his room already in the act of tugging my t-shirt off, and just kept going, letting the impetus of my thoughts carry me along. Symon stood and watched with clouded eyes and a half-open mouth.

"God, you areunreasonably hot," he murmured as I finished, drifting over to palm my pecs with one hand and squeeze at a bicep with the other.

I gestured toward the bed. "How do you want me? Same as...?" Hoping he'd complete the thought.

He nodded. "Yeah. I think so." A pause. "Unless you'd rather...?"

I shook my head, already assuming the position. "Nah, I'm good."

I was, actually, at that point. I was good up until the moment he got a second finger in. The first...the first was okay. Weird, for sure - not painful, but kind of...oddly shocking, despite the fact I literally knew it was coming. But then there were two, and he was moving them against one another, and in and out, and there were lumpy knuckles and just - agh.Not good. Not good at all.

I balled my fists, gritted my teeth. It's a means to an end, I told myself. He needs to stretch you at least a bit - and get some lube inside. Deal with it. It's a means to an end. The dick will be better.

The dickwas better. A whole lot better. There was no sense of a sudden 'pop' like I'd expected, from what I'd read about. There was just pressure, then more pressure, then he slid in a little way and paused. It ...

... was...kind of uncomfortable, but not problematically so. Andway less weird than those fingers, thank christ.

I let out a sigh of relief, a huge breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, and then few moments later another as I felt his bony hips come gently to rest against my arse cheeks, quivering ever so slightly. He was all the way in, and I was handling it fine. Okay, I thought, this is do-able. Completely do-able...

What itwasn't was overwhelming. It just...wasn't. Didn't start that way, didn't end that way, didn't glancingly touch that ceiling at any point in the process...and...I couldn't entirely figure out what to do with that fact, either in the moment or after.

Do I evenwant to be overwhelmed? I asked myself later that night, staring up at my bedroom ceiling in the half-dark. Maybe not? So maybe that's why I wasn't? But if you'reactually overwhelmed, it's not something you get a choice over - is it? Isn't that kinda what the word signifies...? Or is it?

Bloody hell. I knew if I let myself get into some kind of stupid loop over this I'd be awake all night. I needed to think about something good to get myself off to sleep. And not something that involved fucking. Not tonight.

Something else...my mind drifted idly over what was by now a pretty sizeable back-catalogue of things I'd done with - or to - Symon, and settled on...ugh, only two weeks ago, when I kinda barricaded him in his chair, up in the corner between desk and wall, got my cock out, watched him ...