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I awakened with my butt spooned into Jesse’s groin, both of us on our sides, his placid cock inside me, me encased in his arms, his strong hands fanned out over my pecs. I felt for the ring. It was still there. I didn’t care what the courts had said, Jesse and I were married. One unit. As solidly linked as we now were in one body, linked irrevocably by that cock now at gentle rest inside me.

Jesse felt me stir and kissed my ear and nibbled at my neck, while his fingers started to make little swirling movements in the curly, downy hair around my nipples. I felt his cock stirring, that long, slender rod with the upturn that caused his dick head to drag along my inner walls maddenly as he stroked me. I pushed back into him with my butt. His mouth started to suck on my neck, more insistently, more awake. One of his hands dug into a nipple; the other fanned out over my belly, holding me there, while his hips began a rhythm. The rhythm of the early-morning deep, slow, languid, sensual fuck. I lifted a thigh over his, giving him deeper access. I sighed and moaned for him.

But he wanted more. He was fully awake, fully reinvigorated. He wanted to fuck me wildly. He always wanted to fuck me like a wild man. We didn’t really have time for this; I wasn’t really in the mood for this. But he was my partner. He wanted me, and I loved him for that.

I allowed him to pull me up onto my knees and I widened the stance of my legs, opening wide to him. My chest was flat against the sheets, and my arms were flung out wide, my fists gathering and releasing bunches of bedspread and sheeting in rhythm with the furious stroking that he, on his knees between my legs, was applying with that long, draggy cock of his inside me. As I knew it would, that cock of his was putting me in the mood for him. I cried out for him, loving those long deep strokes. I writhed underneath him, as he plowed me hard and long. I loved the feel of the sliding uncut cock inside me.

With a cry of exultation, he came inside me, flooding me, no need for any protection between us now beyond the rings of pledge on our fingers.

We collapsed on the bed, and he stroked me off to ejaculation with his hand. The loving, caring partner. I could feel him stirring again, and he wanted more, but one of us had to be sensible. He had a class to go teach and I needed to get to work on the new chapter of my novel.

Stolid against all of his protestations, teasings, and attempts to arouse me, I forced him out of the bed and lay there, half asleep, contentment filled, as I heard him patter about the apartment and then leave for the university. I would not make the mistake of stirring before he was gone. The last time I had done that, he had taken me, roughly and wildly on the kitchen counter and almost not made his class.

I waited until I was well sure that Jesse was on his way, and then I groaned my way out of the bed, showered, threw my favorite white, diaphanous caftan over my head, and padded out to the kitchen. Immediately, my mind became lost in thoughts of where to pick up the threads of my writing for the morning. I put the coffee on and wolfed down some cereal in milk while my mind was a thousand miles away. The coffee brewed, I poured a cup and moved out to the balcony overlooking the back garden. I just stood in the doorway there, breathing in the clean air through the aroma of the rich coffee. Not seeing the garden, but my mind calming down, preparing itself for what I had to write this morning, the mere presence of the garden casino oyna helping me to focus inwardly.

I loved a morning fuck from Jesse, of course, but I still wasn’t fully satisfied. I had begged him to enter this monogamous relationship, I know, but I had no idea how hard it would be for me. He tended to be the one who gone from one long-term relationship to another in a consecutive stream, never overlapping his lovers. I had been the one who sought variety—who fed off that variety to enrich, I had thought, each of them. My insistence on a more permanent arrangement with Jesse was really my struggle with myself to settle down, now that I had found the right man.

But this wasn’t getting me anywhere on my novel, I thought. I shook my head, sipped at the coffee, and tried to pull myself back into what I had to write today.

“You know that when you stand with the light to your back in that white thing you’re wearing, I can see every contour of your body, don’t you?”

My head snapped around. I had no idea I wasn’t alone on the balcony. I’d been so lost in my thoughts when I’d come out here that I hadn’t even bothered to check. The apartment that shared the balcony had been vacant for months. I knew that someone had moved in—a young fireman, I’d been told—but I’d forgotten. I instinctively wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to withdraw into myself.

“No, don’t bother with that,” the bronze god, who evidently had been doing his morning stretches, said with a laugh. “I’ve seen it all now, and it’s much too nice to cover.”

“Uh, umm,” I stammered as much lost for words because he was a hulking beauty, all hardpacked muscle, with massive chest and arms tapering down to a divine six-pack and, from what I could see below the gym shorts he was wearing—the only thing he was wearing—massive thigh and calf muscles as well. And his face—a regular poster model. He no doubt posed for those sexy calendars fire stations put out to help pay for their wild parties.

“You’re Jesse’s partner, aren’t you?”

“Ummm, yes,” I managed to dumbly mutter. He was beautiful. He was all I looked for in a man before I had decided to settle down. Gorgeous, smiling, and gregarious.

“I’ve met Jesse already. He told me about you.”

“Uh, he did?” I said, not yet together enough for intelligent conversation. Jesse, I thought, was possibly gossiping a bit too much with strangers.

“Yeah, he told me you were a sweet fuck.”

Lost for words altogether now. Jesse had, indeed, been saying entirely too much around the neighborhood.

“Here, come here,” he said with a big smile, as he moved around to an iron patio chair with arms on it that sat on his side of the balcony and settled himself in it. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mr. . . .,” I said, trying to keep this on a civilized basis, although my knees were knocking and my hands were trembling to the point of slooshing coffee out of my cup and onto the front of my caftan.

“Ah, you’ve spilled that on yourself, come on over here and I’ll lick it off for you. Chet, you can call me Chet. And I’d like to fuck you. Come on over here.”

“Well, excuse ME . . . Chet,” I almost bellowed. “But that’s just a bit forward. I have a partner and we are loyal to each other.”

“Ah, it’s just a little fuck,” Chet was saying, still dazzling me with that smile. “I don’t want to marry you, I just want to fuck you. And there, I can see you want it too. Your cock is at attention under that tent of yours, canlı casino and you are trembling so badly you’re spilling that coffee all over and I think you’re about ready to buckle at the knees. At least put the coffee down. It’s very hot . . . just like you.”

His first good idea. I managed to get the coffee cup over to the table on our side of the balcony and set it down. But I went much farther than that. I also slipped my ring—my partnership ring pledging me to Jesse and only to Jesse—off my finger and laid it beside the coffee cup. I knew, of course, what that meant. He was just so beautiful and hulky and hunky and forceful. If I couldn’t resist a muscled hunk, I simply melted at a cocky dominator.

I turned toward him, he put out his hand to me and simply said, one more time, “Come,” and my feet betrayed me and my pledge of fidelity to Jesse. Even with the rationalization that it was all Jesse’s fault anyway—he and his big mouth about my being a bottom—the guilt at what I was doing flooded me.

The guilt kept me silent, as he pulled me into in on the chair, my knees between his thighs and the chair arms, and began sucking on the coffee stains on my caftan. The guilt kept me silent as his lips found my nipples through the diaphanous material and sucked on them too. The guilt kept me silent as his lips found mine and searched and possessed. The silence turned to moans, however, when his hand went under the hem of the caftan and found my alert cock—aching for the touch and stroking that he was giving it.

Strong hands pulled the caftan over my head and discarded it to the side. And warm, moist lips went to my nipples, buried themselves alternately in my bushy pits, taking in the clean, postshower man smell of me, and worked their way down my sternum. He lifted my body up under my armpits and my knees found the arms of the chair.

All the time, I was whimpering and whispering pleadings for him to stop, that I couldn’t, that we mustn’t, that it wasn’t right. But all the time sighing and moaning for him, not wanting him to stop. Hardening for him; melting for him. My plaintive “nos” became compliant “yeses,” as I let him know in murmurings and body responses what he was doing to drive me crazy.

His hands were dancing on my cock and balls, and I was hugging his searching lips to my chest, burying my fingers in his fine, blond hair. He put his hands under my butt cheeks and brought my body up to him. I instinctively reached up and found a couple of chains hanging from the balcony ceilings, chains that could hold flower pots for the more fussy tenants. The tenant before the fireman had had a veritable jungle of hanging pots out here.

I arched my back and cried out an “Oh, Gawd!” as he swallowed my cock and started working it with his mouth. He was relentless and didn’t stop working me until I had cum and collapsed into the chair, my hands losing hold on the chains, and my knees slipping down off the chair arms and back down between the arms and his thighs.

He took one of my hands then and placed it on his basket, letting me feel the strength of him there. He felt massive, even there. He freed the monster with one of his hands, and brought my hand back to it. He wasn’t particularly long, but he was thickest I’d ever seen and felt—he had a regular fire plug between his legs.

“Do you like my sausage?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “All of this goes inside you. I’m going to fuck you good.”

“No, noooo,” I whimpered. “I don’t think I can.”

“Sure you kaçak casino can,” he said. “You just have to be loosened up a bit.”

With that he turned me and brought my knees back up onto the arms of the chair. I grabbed for the chains again, as he buried his face between my butt cheeks and wettened and tongued, and widened, and ate my ass out until I was a burbling mass of jelly under his talented attentions. I don’t know how good he was at putting fires out, but he was the tops at starting them and making them rage.

He must have had a tube of lube nearby, because he was now lathering my ass up and sliding his fat fingers in and out of me, checking me, preparing me.

I panicked when he turned me and I could see that he was about to set me down on that greased up monster cock of his.

“No, oh no. A condom. Gotta be sheathed.” This was one pledge to Jesse I couldn’t give up. We had foregone condoms ourselves, both loving the feel of skin on skin, as the reward for only having sex with each other. This would have been the final betrayal. I could not have returned to Jesse if I had gone back to multiple bareback partners.

The hunky fireman gave me a pained look, but he dutifully reached around and fished out a condom packet from somewhere, a bit too conveniently at hand, I later thought. He made me roll the condom on his cock, which was no easy chore, even though he had the largest size made. His cock was just gigantic in circumference.

I had been well prepared and had a long history of taking cock, but, even so, I howled to the breezes crossing the balcony as he rolled that massive mushroom cap around the rim of my hole and forced himself into me. A few excruciatingly painful moments, and my ass decided it would take him—in fact, that it had to have this fireplug inside it, and my muscles gripped his club and pulled it inside me, with me groaning and grunting deeply to stretch for him and him laughing his delight at splitting me asunder. He soon had my butt cheeks nestled into the tops of his thighs, and that giant cock grinding around inside me and stretching my walls almost beyond the limit.

I moaned and writhed for him. I arched my back way back so that I was draped down his legs and hanging onto the legs of the iron chair with my hands. One of my legs was running up his torso and the other one hung out over the chair arm. And all the while, with those big, strong hands on my hips, he was stroking me back and forth on his fireplug. When he got tired of that, he lifted me and set my butt down on his monster cock in an ever-faster rhythm.

He was a virile stud, fast to reload, and he took me twice more, once with my knees on the chair arms and the back of the chair biting into my chest, and him standing, straddling the chair and fucking me from behind and, at last, down on all fours on the steel grated floor of the balcony, me huffing and puffing and staring down three flights of balconies to the ground and him covering me from behind and making magic between my legs.

At last, we collapsed in a heap on the balcony floor. I was breathing hard and moaning from the exertion and the stretching of my ass. He had hardly broken a sweat.

“Jesse was right,” he muttered at last. “You are one sweet fuck.”

I was feeling totally guilty all over again. Mostly because I had betrayed Jesse and gone with another man. Partly, though, because if I was going to go with another man, and a hunk like this didn’t want to use a condom, I was not taking full advantage of the sin. “I’m sorry about the condom,” I murmured back to him. “It’s just that . . .”

“Oh, that’s OK,” the fireman hunk responded with a little laugh. “Your Jesse made me use a condom when I fucked him too.”

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