Free Coda 03 -The Letter Z by Marie Sexton

was kissing me hard. His hands tore at my shirt, and at least one button went flying. It was such a rapid change, from chewing me out to ripping my clothes off, it took me a second to catch up. He undid my pants. They were looser than my jeans and fell easily to the floor.
“Jared—” I started to say, but he cut me off again.
“Shut up, Matt.” He pushed me backward onto the bed.
It was unusual for him to be so aggressive, but I certainly wasn’t going to object. He took off his pants sitting across my thighs. We had stopped using condoms long ago. He put some lube in his hand and put his fist against the head of my cock. He pushed just a little, smiling down at me. He knew I couldn’t help but thrust up, into his hand.
“Oh Jesus,” I groaned as his slick fist slid down my shaft, and his smile got bigger.
“Just wait,” he said, and moved up so he could straddle my groin.
I hadn’t realized until then exactly what he was planning.
“Jared—” I started to say.
“Shut up, Matt,” he said again. And then he pushed himself down onto me.
I quit trying to protest after that. I couldn’t have even if I had wanted to. Truthfully, I’d forgotten how good it felt to be inside of him. I’d forgotten how tight, warm, and intense it was. There had only been three other times, all more than a year before, and it had never been like this, with him on top of me. It was amazing—almost overwhelming—and I knew immediately I’d never be able to last long enough. I gripped his
    thighs with my hands, and felt hard, thick muscle, built from years of bike riding, rippling against my palms as he moved up and down on me.
    His hands were on my stomach, his fingers tracing that line of hair just below my navel. He didn’t open his eyes much during sex, but I knew how much he loved to feel my chest and my stomach and that trail of hair he’d always been obsessed with. He was moving slow, and the look on his face was heaven to me. His eyes were closed, and his lips just barely parted. I loved to watch his face while he got off.
    The lube was still on the bed. I put some on my hand, and did what he had done to me: I put my fist against at the head of his cock, and when he lifted up off of me, I let his shaft push up through my fist. It made him lose rhythm. For a second he froze in that upward position, poised right on the end of my cock, his own cock deep in my fist, and then he moaned—I loved the look on his face when he did that—and started moving again, faster than before.
    Watching him, it was all I could do to keep from coming right then. He was speeding up, slamming down on to me harder and faster, moaning a little when my cock reached the deepest point inside of him. The sounds he made were soft and low, but mine were plenty loud. The bed was creaking like crazy, pounding against the wall, and at least in Vegas, nobody was going to complain. His movements became almost frantic, and I knew he was close. I kept my hand moving, trying to match his rhythm, even as it grew more erratic.
    I tightened my grip on him and his eyes snapped open. They locked on mine for just a second, before sliding down my chest and over my stomach. He looked down at my hand, pumping his shaft, and groaned low in his throat.
    I knew that sound. I knew he was about to come. He threw his head back, put his hands behind him on my thighs and arched his back. He came so hard that his first shot landed on my shoulder, and he cried out as he did. I finally quit fighting my own climax, and if the people next door didn’t hear the bed hitting the wall, they had to be able to hear me when I finally let go.
    When I could think again, I opened my eyes to find Jared grinning down at me. “Can we do that again?” he asked playfully, which was exactly what I had said to him after the first time I had ever fucked him.
    I laughed, and followed along. “What, already?”

    “God no. I mean, when you can move again.”
    And I realized then that for the