In my mouth and in my ass — that's how it was meant to end, I knew it the moment he walked in. He came to me in the afternoon, quiet, almost wordless. A boy, maybe twenty-two at most. Fresh, clean, with that sweet nervous energy that made him irresistible. He sat carefully on the edge of the couch, like he wasn’t sure it was all real. There was hunger in his eyes, but also hesitation — and that only turned me on more.
I sat next to him. He looked away. My voice was soft as I asked his name, where he was from. He answered in whispers. Then silence. So I took the lead.
I kissed his cheek, slid my hand along his inner thigh. He shivered. His jeans were already tight with a hard-on, and when I unzipped them, I saw exactly what I liked: a perfect cock. Not huge, but just right. I licked the shaft slowly — he squeezed his eyes shut as if overwhelmed.
We kissed and touched. I let him explore my chest, my hips, my neck. But when it came time to fuck, he slid inside… and froze. I moved under him, moaned, twisted, took him deeper — but he couldn’t cum. He was trying, but something was locked.
For twenty minutes I tried everything — on top, sideways, bent over. But he only got more lost. Then, with despair in his voice, he whispered:
“Sorry… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I leaned to his ear and whispered:
“Let me take control.”
He nodded.
I pulled out a silicone plug, coated it in lube, and slowly pushed it into his ass. He trembled but didn’t resist. His face was tense, but once it was fully inside, he exhaled — long and deep. I saw his cock twitch in excitement.
I climbed onto him. My ass slid down over his cock, and he moaned. I started to ride him — smooth, steady, pressing down, taking everything. The plug inside him moved too, and I saw his eyes roll back. He was mine — and I loved it.
I held his chest, rode him hard. He grabbed my hips. Then suddenly — he pulled out, dropped to his knees, and buried his face in my ass.
He licked me — deep, hungry, with tongue, with lips, even a growl. He wasn’t just licking — he was devouring me. My ass, slick with lube and cum, was his whole world. He dug his tongue in, sucked, scraped me with his stubble. I moaned, trembled. And he didn’t stop.
Then he looked up, wet eyes shining, and whispered:
“Can I try… yours?”
I spread my legs slightly. He took my cock into his mouth. Gently. Awkwardly. I stayed quiet. I let him. He sucked it slowly, ran his tongue, took it again. He was clumsy, but with every second, bolder. His hand found my waist. He sucked deeper, stronger. I held his head. And when I came — he didn’t move. He swallowed it all. Every drop.
I remained kneeling, breathless. He knelt before me, my taste still on his lips.
“That was my first time…” he whispered, looking up.
I reached down, touched his cheek, and replied:
“And your first orgasm… in my mouth and in my ass.”
And in that moment, I knew I had given him more than just sex. I had given him freedom.
