His hands bracket my hips, digging in so hard I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow, and I revel in it. He pushes upwards, a powerful movement that makes me cry out and writhe in his lap, and he begins a series of punishing thrusts. His cock feels like a steel pole in me, and my own dick lets out a spurt of liquid, painting his stomach as he hits my prostate almost continuously.

The room is full of the sounds of grunts and moans and the scent of sex is heady in the air. I grab my cock and start to jerk it, feeling the tingle in my balls. “Fuck, I’m close,” I groan. “Oh shit. I can feel it.”

I cry out as he suddenly grabs my hips and levers me up so that he slips out of me.

“What are you doing?” I moan. “I need you in me.”

“Get up,” he grits out. His eyes are blind and sweat drips down his face. “Bend over the sofa. I need to pound that arse.”

“Oh God, yes.” I jump up frantically and bend over the sofa, burying my face in the cushions. My scream is therefore buried in them as he pushes back into me. He pistons in and out, starting up a punishing rhythm with the only goal being for us to come.

I hang over the sofa, my hair in my face and sweat stinging my eyes as the cushions rub against my cock.

“I’ve dreamt of doing this,” he whispers hoarsely. “Seeing you bent over like this.”

“Me too,” I whimper. “Oh shit, Zeb, touch me.”

He sends one arm over my chest, pulling me up and bracing me against him as he fucks into me in fierce choppy thrusts, while the other slides down and his rough hand circles my dick. I’m leaking a lot now, and he groans as the liquid coats his palm. I cry out as his fist forms a tight slippery tunnel, and he shoves into me hard.

I don’t even have time to say anything. Instead, I cry out and, feeling my balls draw up, I shoot over his hands, spurts of come filling his fingers and slicking his palm. He moans as the sharp scent rises between us and he gives one thrust, two thrusts, and a third. Then he goes rigid, pushing his cock up so far it’s like he’s trying to climb inside me. He lets loose a guttural shout, and I feel warmth flood the condom inside me.

For a few minutes, we hang over the sofa panting. His hips move in tiny thrusts, as he rides out his orgasm, and we both twitch occasionally as pleasure flares and burns away.

Eventually, he sighs. “Holy fucking shit.”

Incredibly, I start to laugh, and he grunts as it tightens my passage around his cock, probably painfully.