I reach out and grip the rough tree to try and stay upright. St. Clare’s words have me doubting my legs to do their job. “You’re going to … train me?” My cock feels impossibly hard at the thought. Shouldn’t that be something that turns me off? Not makes me want to risk splinters by humping the tree just to get some fucking relief.

“Do you not want me to?”

“No, no.” I shake my head to exclamation point my answer. “I’m ready. Just clarifying.”

He makes a line of wet kisses down to my shoulder, then pulls his hand away, and I hear him spit. “You’re going to be so greedy for it.”

When his fingers find my hole again, I rub back against them. Joke’s on St. Clare because I’m already greedy for anything he’ll give me. He doesn’t need to train me on it when I come with a built-in St. Clare simp upgrade. Whatever he wants, I want it too. The thought of being fucked is … weird. How does it work? Will it hurt? Is there anything I need to do to prepare? Should I⁠—

St. Clare’s finger presses inside and cuts off every word I’ve ever thought. It’s only the tip at first. A gentle stroke in and out that I get used to faster than I would have assumed I would. It feels … nice. It actually feels nice. This pleasant hum of something that I relax into.

“There you go,” he encourages before sucking my on neck.

Every pass of his finger has me sinking into the feeling. My shoulder is aching, but even that doesn’t register when St. Clare leans back to spit on my hole and this time presses his finger all the way inside.

The intrusion makes me feel full, and the pressure in my balls really, really likes it. If this is one finger, how much more can I take? Two? Three? His cock? That’s what we’re aiming for eventually, I guess, but it almost feels impossible. Like I’m already maxed out. But I want to try.

His finger presses in deep before pulling back and doing it again. And again. The more he does it, the more I like it, and surprisingly, it hasn’t hurt once. My dick is so fucking hard, and for some reason, the whole idea of being half-naked and exposed is really doing it for me.

“God, I wish this was my cock,” he says.

I sort of wish that too, but he was right before. I don’t think I could have taken it. All I know is that this, this is good. Great. Exactly what I need. “Give me more.”

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

St. Clare huffs a laugh. “Perry⁠—”