Final Chapter
There he was, the man who was going to fuck me. He looked searchingly into my eyes, at my body clad only in black silk pajama pants. We couldn't speak. We didn't know what words would fit. He took me in his arms and kissed my lips. He took control of me and our time. He kissed me tenderly and lovingly. His hands caressed my shoulders and back, slowly, and down to the silk on my ass that became ever more sensual by the possessive caress of his hands.
"Barry, Barry, Barry. I feel like a virgin bride on her wedding night."
He laughed with a release that spread over both of us. "You are my virgin bride," he whispered on my lips. "My sweetheart. My darling. You are surrendering your virginity to your man. To know." His erection was a mighty thing of power, potential and self evident.
He walked me to the bedroom, calm and in control. I put his suit jacket on a hanger. His necktie. His pants. He could not stop looking into my eyes, and smiling. I brushed his hands aside to unbutton his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, with nervous fingers, glancing up at his calm smile and smoldering eyes. Filled with quivers and currents of a virgin bride. Ready to experience and know. I knelt and kissed his rigid cock, just to acknowledge it. His half a day of crotch smell was extra strong, gamy, like the scent a buck or a boar would smear on trees in a forest. He looked at the bedside table, well stocked, and said, "You are ready."
We lay naked on the bed, and he made love to me, his beautiful man, his darling, his virgin. Slowly. With all the time in the world progression. With his hands and fingers and his mouth. Opening doors in me. Stimulating, arousing, igniting flames. And I lay under him, acquiescent, anticipating, wanting it to happen. He loved my tits and I dove into identifying with a woman with full breasts. That was my release. To luxuriate in everything happening to me, embrace any fantasy. Gone.
"I'm extra clean for you," I said.
"My darling," he murmured.
He got off the bed and came back on with a supply of towels and the KY. He folded a pillow length wise. "Raise up," he said. I planted my feet and hoisted my pelvis. He covered the pillow with the towel and slid it under my ass near the small of my back. Practical matters. He uncapped the jelly tube and lubed his fingers. "Put your hands behind your knees and pull your legs back," he said. I obeyed. On my back, jackknifed, legs pulled back and spread wide, my virgin ass was offered up to him like a gift on a platter. And any lingering female fantasy fled from the stark reality I was a man who had willfully positioned himself to be fucked by another man.
He pushed a gooey finger in and moved it around. Then a second finger. A few sawing strokes of the two fingers. "To acquaint you," he said. "Help you relax." His kind intentions didn't work. My sphincter clamped his fingers like a vice. He didn't relent, and gradually I did relax. Some. His sawing fingers were less abrasive. I felt growing excitation there, if not genuine pleasure. The excitation was the keen edge of understanding that my position and the sensation his fingers produced was isolated anticipation, as thrilling as scary, of his big stiff cock about to penetrate me. He withdrew the fingers. He squeezed the tube and slathered a thick coat of lube on his cock.
"Uh, you're forgetting the condom," I said.
He stared into my eyes. "We'll use one if you insist. But it's the same cum I pump into my wife. I am clean and safe for her, and for you. Trust me."
It made sense, what he said. I couldn't imagine him rolling on a condom every time he fucked Betty. For eight years. Disease free made sense. I made a snap decision. "Okay. No condom."
"Skin in skin. All natural. The best for me, and you too. You will see."
That concluded practical matters. It was time for him to take my virginity. On that point all my senses fell into shifting patterns of awareness of extreme clarity and vividness. Like the shift of patterns when you twist the tube of a kaleidoscope. He was on his knees spread wide, much like a flexible child on spread knees on the floor to play a game, jacks or something. He adjusted his knees to approach. His cock looked larger and harder, shiny with lube, a specific tool for a specific job. I lifted my head and stared between my spread legs at the awesome man tool advance, at a goal and a purpose that could not be altered. The mighty head, a flaring helmet on an ancient warrior, made contact.
My head dropped back to the mattress, my eyes closed, and my mental awareness was intensely vivid. The cock head so silky and fitting in my mouth seemed to have doubled in size, and was as hard and unyielding as steel. It seemed to press against all the surface I had down there, far beyond the margins of my tiny, tight anus. Vivid clarity of awareness. It was too big. It couldn't be done. It was simply not possible. But his too big cock was more than tangible measure. It was also stark reality that his penetration was a predetermined, non-negotiable event. That the impossible was not only possible, but was going to happen, by his desire for me and implacable force of masculine imperative, and by my position of submission to him. I was past the point of no return. The hard bulging head was firmly pressed on the entrance to open it and push into me. I could not stop it. I had deliberately submitted myself, mentally, emotionally, physically, including an enema, to experience the meaning of being fucked by a man, and I had no will left to stop it.
The pain was instant, and confounding. It was like the huge hard ball of flesh had changed itself into a sharp point to puncture. The pain was stinging and sharp. I sucked in a hiss of air to ward it off.
I shot a desperate look at Barry. His eyes were riveted to mine. His face seemed detached from emotion. Calm and confident, like a doctor performing a necessary medical procedure. The pressure increased. And the pain. The pain was beyond understanding. A part of it was pain of contraction, like the blow from touching an electrified wire on a fence. But the greater part was expansion, my tight hole being opened, widened, forced to yield. And the pain was intensely sharp. I hissed like a tea kettle. "Oh God go easy!"
Suddenly he popped in. A pop I thought I actually heard. I felt my sphincter muscle snap behind the extended rim of his cock head like a wide rubber band.
"I'm in you, baby. My cock is in you." He said that with proud achievement, and reassurance the necessary ordeal was over. But it wasn't over. He moved further into me, with infinite care, but pain of a different sort awaited. It wasn't hot searing pain. It was pain of blunt force. It was like his cock was forced to reconfigure the design of my rectum. Flatten out things, push things aside, straighten out corners.
"Easy! Easy! Please go as easy as you can."
"Push out from inside. Reverse the resistance."
Like taking a shit, he didn't say. I pushed out from inside with all I had, grimacing with strain, and hope. Reversing resistance to the reverse of his massive cock moving in, in fractions of an inch, to the end, like a plow point turning a furrow.
He fell on me and kissed my mouth. "I'm in you baby. All the way in your delicious ass. You have taken in all that I have. I have taken your virginity." He kissed me more. "My sweetheart, my darling. You are now mine. I have taken you."
I hugged him to me and clung tightly, uncertain if there were more flashes of pain I had to face. There didn't seem to be. It seemed to be all over, pain retreated from a last ditch battle, replaced with activity of accommodation. I felt stuffed, expanded, filled. Barry lay still, kissing me and humming sounds of depthless pleasure his cock relayed from the gripping heat of my ass far inside. The great head pulsed like a beating heart deep inside me. I could feel it. Vivid awareness. He had taken me. His big, hard, throbbing cock had taken total possession of all that I was at that time. He owned me. I was his.
He raised up on stiff arms and moved in me with infinite care and consideration. Very, very slowly. Vivid awareness with perfect clarity; the flared rim of his cock head rubbing the muscle walls of my chamber. It was like the sensations of a great bowl movement. At first. But it didn't hurt, not really. Much like a massage of knotty shoulder muscles by strong fingers, that smarts at first, then relaxes. There was no pleasure in his slow strokes, but no real pain either. And the "meaning" of me a man being fucked by another man was crystal clear. The penetration, being filled and expanded, the initial pain giving way to seizures of sensations deep in my body of rigid cock cylinder rubbing flesh that had never been rubbed before. Cock movement and exploration of the tight confines of a place in the center of my body. Vivid, internal sensations of the conquering cock rubbing back and forth and doing what it wanted to do, apart from anything I might think about it. Barry had taken me, and he was going to take me completely, use my ass to pleasure his cock, and I sank into submission to the process, the "meaning" of being fucked by man.
I relaxed to the feel of his cock moving in me, and the physical sensations were tolerable, beginning to feel pleasant, if not really pleasurable. I could, and would, and was happy to do this for him. To give him that intense pleasure of fucking me. His strokes back and forth quickly erased all the penetration pain from my memory. My ass stuffed with his hard cock, my sudden sense of total acceptenc of being the instrument of his selfish pleasure. That his cock and person realized the joy of fucking me was all that mattered. I wanted to give him that, even if I experienced no real pleasure in return. For another flash of insight had struck me. The cock that had entered me to define the meaning of being fucked was attached to Barry, my man, my lover man, who had for months burned with desire to do to me just what he was now doing. He was my lover, making love to me by fucking me, and the total man was involved, not just his big cock moving inside me.
