Free Manhandled by Austin Foxxe Page B

finger found what I was searching for. His
     hole gaped open, and, slick with just the sweat of our bodies, the tip of my finger slipped inside him. He gasped, and I pushed
     deeper in reply. I strained forward with my hips, hoping to let my cock join my fingertip in the warmth of his asshole, but
     my dick’s reach stopped agonizingly short. Travis’s knees buckled slightly, but even that wasn’t enough. There was a whisper
     in my ear, and it took a moment’s concentration to recognize it as Travis’s guttural chant of “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me….”
    I pushed him away with my free hand, keeping my finger tucked into the opening of his chute. Wordlessly, I pushed on his shoulder,
     signaling him to turn around. He pivoted on his heel, but the tangle of his pants snared him. He tripped forward, catching
     himself with his hands on the wall opposite me, and let out a startled yelp. I drove my finger deeper inside him, and he yelped
     again, his muscles tightening. I pulled back slightly and he relaxed, then eased himself down onto my finger. I hunched my
     hips forward and let my cock burrow between his cheeks to crowd my busy finger. He sensed the pressure and pushed backward
     against me. I thrust my hips, nosing my dick in deeper and deeper into his crack. I was leaking lube, and with a few strokes
     he was wet.
    He turned his face, and in the moonlight he was unmasked. The guarded irony had slipped away, and all that remained was desire.
     I didn’t have to ask if he was ready. Pulling my finger out, I positioned the head of my prick at his opening. I thrust forward,
     and his knees buckled as I stabbed into him. There was a moment of eerie calm as we adjusted to each other’s bodies. We were
     frozen at the brink of ecstasy. And then, clutching one another, we fell into it.
    I won’t say that that first time with Travis was indescribable—just that description doesn’t do it justice. I’m sure you know
     what it’s like to fuck a man, and I’m sure you know that even though the mechanics are roughly the same every time, every
     time it’s different.
    God was this different.
    I didn’t fuck Travis so much as ride him. He moved as if electrified. I grasped his writhing hips and plunged into him again
     and again, slamming against him as if he stood between me and ecstasy; my cock was a battering ram and his body the unyielding
     door. The alcove was cramped and the sounds we made were echoed and amplified. My ears were filled with the moist slapping
     of our bodies and the guttural sounds that had supplanted language. I felt something exploding behind my balls, and I pressed
     my face into his back, wishing that I’d gotten his jacket and shirt off so that I could taste his flesh. All sensation was
     eclipsed as I felt myself ejaculating inside him. I accented each spurt with a savage twist of my hips, and found that I was
     still thrusting long after I was spent, as if I’d forgotten how to do anything but fuck. At last my body stilled, and I slipped
     out of him, my cock deliciously raw. As I took in gulps of air, my spent passion turned to tenderness. My hands circled his
     waist and I kissed his neck.
    “I kept my end of the deal,” I whispered.
    “Mm-hmm …” was his only reply.
    I backed away, breathless, and leaned against the opposite wall of the doorway. Travis was still spread-eagle against the
     wall, his back heaving. In the monochrome moonlight, posed against the decaying brickwork, he looked for all the world like
     a Bill Costa photograph.
    As I reached to pull up my trousers, he turned toward me. The first thing that caught the moonlight was the rigid shaft of
     his cock, so engorged it actually jerked with each beat of his heart. The second thing that caught the light was his face…
     and that wicked, wicked smile.
    Travis is fast; everybody knows that. You can tell by his feline, feral bearing. But unless you’ve actually seen him move,
     you just can’t appreciate it.
    He was