had shoved into me harder than before, and at my enthusiastic response his fingers tightened on my hips and he began to pleasure me in earnest.
After a few hard thrusts my arms gave out and I fell forward onto my elbows. This had the fortunate side-effect of allowing him to sink deeper into me, and loosened my vocal inhibitions as the tip of him nudged more forcefully against my prostate and sent desire arcing through me.
Letting go of my hips, he planted his hands firmly either side of my ribs and leaned forward, rather awkwardly, to kiss the nape of my neck before he groaned breathlessly in my ear. Underneath him, I twisted gracelessly, but before I could turn my head enough to reciprocate, he had reared back and his fingers were digging into my hip bones once more. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, I saw his gaze directed down, to where our bodies were joined. The knowledge that he was not only looking, but watching with undisguised appreciation where I was so blatantly displayed for him, was the last straw.
I did not have a hand free to touch myself – one arm was holding a pillow to my face, in which I was muffling my passionate cries, while the other hand was braced against the headboard to stop myself shifting up the bed with Holmes's vigorous movements, which by this point were rattling the bed frame and making the headboard thump against the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. It was all I could do to lift my sweat-dampened face from the pillow and gasp a single-word plea to him, but bless the man, for he understood me nevertheless.
He stretched a hand around and took my cock in his fist, stroking me tightly as he pounded into me. It took only a few moments and then finally, at long last, after what had felt like an unending evening of torture, I felt my desire peak and I was coming, my entire body convulsing and my screams fortunately stifled by the fat feather pillow in which I had buried my mouth.
Gradually the waves of intense sensation ebbed and faded, leaving me flushed and gasping, and my heart hammering against my ribs. Holmes was still buried in me, and moving with a force that told me he had not yet reached his own finish, but the small noises that had begun to escape from him told me that it would not be long.
I stretched a little beneath him, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the sensually decadent feeling of being buggered while the last fading ripples of orgasm chased themselves through my body. Each thrust of his length into me sent maddening spasms of pleasure up my spine, along my thighs, deep into my groin, and even caused the hairs to stand up on the back of my neck. In another few minutes the stimulation would be too much and would tip over the edge into discomfort, but I could not bring myself to care, for I could feel Holmes's grip clamping down on my skin and his voice repeating my name in a fervent tone.
Very faintly, I felt him twitch inside me as he finished, a strangled moan escaping past his gritted teeth. I held myself up for as long as I could while he continued to rock into me gently, wringing the last fading pulses of sensation from his body, and when I heard his desperate panting change to longer gasping breaths, I allowed my shoulders to buckle and I sank down onto the bed. My back was slick with sweat, my muscles quivered as though I had just finished a rugby match, and my face was half-smothered in Holmes's pillow, but such considerations could not detract from the pleasurable lethargy twining through me. The scent of his soap and the pomade he used to tame his hair filled my nose, and I opened eyes I did not remember closing when I felt him sprawl next to me.
He looked entirely debauched – his trousers were still bunched around his thighs, and the fluttering halves of his open shirt-front revealed the hectic flush spread across his chest.
"Good God, man," he muttered unsteadily.
"It is entirely your fault," I yawned, my eyes sliding shut against my will,
After a few hard thrusts my arms gave out and I fell forward onto my elbows. This had the fortunate side-effect of allowing him to sink deeper into me, and loosened my vocal inhibitions as the tip of him nudged more forcefully against my prostate and sent desire arcing through me.
Letting go of my hips, he planted his hands firmly either side of my ribs and leaned forward, rather awkwardly, to kiss the nape of my neck before he groaned breathlessly in my ear. Underneath him, I twisted gracelessly, but before I could turn my head enough to reciprocate, he had reared back and his fingers were digging into my hip bones once more. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, I saw his gaze directed down, to where our bodies were joined. The knowledge that he was not only looking, but watching with undisguised appreciation where I was so blatantly displayed for him, was the last straw.
I did not have a hand free to touch myself – one arm was holding a pillow to my face, in which I was muffling my passionate cries, while the other hand was braced against the headboard to stop myself shifting up the bed with Holmes's vigorous movements, which by this point were rattling the bed frame and making the headboard thump against the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. It was all I could do to lift my sweat-dampened face from the pillow and gasp a single-word plea to him, but bless the man, for he understood me nevertheless.
He stretched a hand around and took my cock in his fist, stroking me tightly as he pounded into me. It took only a few moments and then finally, at long last, after what had felt like an unending evening of torture, I felt my desire peak and I was coming, my entire body convulsing and my screams fortunately stifled by the fat feather pillow in which I had buried my mouth.
Gradually the waves of intense sensation ebbed and faded, leaving me flushed and gasping, and my heart hammering against my ribs. Holmes was still buried in me, and moving with a force that told me he had not yet reached his own finish, but the small noises that had begun to escape from him told me that it would not be long.
I stretched a little beneath him, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the sensually decadent feeling of being buggered while the last fading ripples of orgasm chased themselves through my body. Each thrust of his length into me sent maddening spasms of pleasure up my spine, along my thighs, deep into my groin, and even caused the hairs to stand up on the back of my neck. In another few minutes the stimulation would be too much and would tip over the edge into discomfort, but I could not bring myself to care, for I could feel Holmes's grip clamping down on my skin and his voice repeating my name in a fervent tone.
Very faintly, I felt him twitch inside me as he finished, a strangled moan escaping past his gritted teeth. I held myself up for as long as I could while he continued to rock into me gently, wringing the last fading pulses of sensation from his body, and when I heard his desperate panting change to longer gasping breaths, I allowed my shoulders to buckle and I sank down onto the bed. My back was slick with sweat, my muscles quivered as though I had just finished a rugby match, and my face was half-smothered in Holmes's pillow, but such considerations could not detract from the pleasurable lethargy twining through me. The scent of his soap and the pomade he used to tame his hair filled my nose, and I opened eyes I did not remember closing when I felt him sprawl next to me.
He looked entirely debauched – his trousers were still bunched around his thighs, and the fluttering halves of his open shirt-front revealed the hectic flush spread across his chest.
"Good God, man," he muttered unsteadily.
"It is entirely your fault," I yawned, my eyes sliding shut against my will,
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