CHAPTER FIFTY Luke

You can do this, Luke. Tate loves you and he wants this.

My inner voice was doing battle with my nerves. However, neither the voice nor the nerves influenced my penis. That was still hard as a rock. So far, my desire to make love to Tate was there, and with his loving guidance and my raging desire, I was doing well, according to him.

Three weeks of his support, as well as lessons about what we could do as sexual partners, had me firing on all cylinders. I craved sex with Tate. I couldn't get enough sex with him, routinely suggesting we have it as often as I could. My endless desire to connect with him worked seamlessly with my urges.

Had I been asked a month ago whether I saw myself as a sexual being, I would've delivered a resounding no as my answer. Truthfully, sex frightened me, intimidated me, and unfortunately, at the time, disgusted me.

All those feelings went away when counseled by Tate. His advice, patience, and concern for my welfare first and foremost, allowed me to trust him and the act of sexual contact. And here I was three weeks later, and I couldn't get enough sex.

I was in love with Tate. Of that, I had no doubt. And because of that, once the fear was replaced with trust, I wanted to show him I loved him, not only with my actions and my words, but through our sexual connection. It didn't hurt that he woke things up in me that I'd never considered a possibility. One of those was that he wanted to be dominated by me in bed.

He'd explained it as wanting a sexual partner to lead, to be the power in the bedroom because he fantasized about being manhandled by a strong man. I was strong, I could do that. After several examples, a bit of instruction, and explanations of what two men could actually do together, I understood the mechanics of male-on-male sex and was more than willing to fulfill his wishes. I also had a few desires of my own.

What I may have lacked in experience was easily replaced with desire. Tate was the target of my craving. I had a primal need to be with him sexually. Any horrifying memories of my only other experiences were vanquished when I gave myself over to his trust and love.

"You okay?" he asked.

I refocused on the stunning man lying in front of me, his knees pulled to his chest, his round, smooth butt waiting for me to be inside of him. Just looking at his butt drove me crazy with longing, making me wonder where such an attraction comes from. My penis swelled with yearning while my heart swelled with love. A perfect combination in my mind.

"I'm okay," I answered. "I'm better than okay," I immediately corrected, in case he misread my answer as unsure or that he worried I couldn't handle what came next.

I added more lube to my penis and watched him studying me. His eyes moved between my erection and my eyes. I wondered if he was afraid.

"You can handle a penis this size?" I asked.

"Grab my dick," he said, getting back to the man he'd been a minute ago. "Stroke me nice and slow when you line your dick up. Trust me, Luke. I want that inside me."

"And it won't hurt you?" I asked, having flashbacks to how I'd felt.

"At first it won't be comfortable," he explained. "But you'll be tender and take your time. And Luke? This isn't abuse. I love you and you love me, remember?" He tilted his head toward his erection. "Go ahead, stroke me."

The moment I had his penis in my hand, my thoughts turned to longing, and a naughty feeling, a feeling I was unaccustomed to, that set up residence in my psyche. I needed to be joined with Tate. My penis inside him was what I wanted, and apparently, he wanted that as well. I cleared my apprehension and focused on the beauty in front of me.

Tate was smaller than me, and that fact made me want him even more. His trim stomach, and the abs carved into his flesh, kept me hard. He was athletic and masculine, his chest a smaller version of my own, with prominent pecs and biceps in perfect symmetry to his arms. I marveled at his masculinity while in love with the softer and smaller side of him.

My mind fixated on the man in front of me. If I were to admit it, the need I had for his love scared me. I'd been taught that you mate with one person for life, but when I'd imagined a life with a girl at the ranch, the thought had depressed me at best. The prospect of spending my life as Tate's mate filled me with joy. And now, here he lay, asking me to fulfill his needs.

My hand swirled up and down his penis as I slowly jacked him off. Tate had closed his eyes and his head moved from side to side as he rode the pleasure he was feeling.

"Finger my ass with lube, Luke. Make sure you have plenty on your dick, too," he instructed, still with closed eyes, his voice low and seductive.

He was fully exposed to me, trusting me and encouraging me to make love to him. My emotions were right there, just under a manly desire that pulsed through my veins. I slid three fingers in and spread the lube thoroughly around his entrance, shifting my hand to my penis and lathering it with plenty of the same lubricant.

Holding my penis, I moved the tip to his entrance and held it there, studying his face. Tate opened his eyes, smiling encouragement toward me at the same time he grabbed his ankles and spread himself wider. I kept the rhythm on his penis, stroking sensually and pushing in at the same time.

There was a major difference between three fingertips trying to enter you and the tip of my penis. I'd only seen three adult ones, and mine was larger than the others by far. The tip was as large as a small plum. Tate had the perfect-sized penis, in my opinion. Especially now that he had taught me how to take it in my mouth and bring him to orgasm.

My tip finally slipped in after considerable effort. I watched Tate's face carefully. "Hold it right there for now," he said, a tiny grimace on his face.

He inhaled deeply and then slowly released his long-held breath. The moment he exhaled, his entrance loosened, and I pushed further, stopping after the tip and an additional inch or so slid in.

When he adjusted his hips and lifted off the bed, more of my penis disappeared inside of him. I pulled back after another inch disappeared, leaving my large tip inside, but giving him a break before pressing further.

"Stroke my cock, stud," he growled, locking his eyes on mine. "And give me more of that dick."

Tate was a different man during sex. He was animal-like and good at saying what he wanted. Of course, he used words I wasn't comfortable enough to use, but I liked the way we were different in that respect.

I grabbed his ankles, swatting his hands away, lifting them higher and wider as I rose up to get a better angle. "Want more?" I asked, ignoring his penis while I held his legs apart.

"All of it," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Every inch of it, Luke."

He grabbed his penis and began stroking as I pressed forward, his knees almost touching his chin, and buried my manhood all the way in, holding it there.

"This feels so good," I said, my brain overloaded with signals from my private area. The warmth of being inside him stirred the yearning to orgasm almost immediately, but I wanted to fight that urge for as long as I could.

"Pull it out slowly, Luke," he directed. "And then move in and out as I get used to your size. You are such a man, baby. So big and sexy," he moaned.

His encouragement fired me up. Coupled with a feeling like no other, and the tight feeling around my penis, I don't think I'd ever felt a pleasure anywhere near what I was experiencing.

I placed his ankles on my shoulders and moved my hands under his butt cheeks, lifting him off the bed and onto my erection. His eyes popped open and the look he had in them was one of pure want. He reached for my nipples and pinched them. Not hard. No twisting. Just rubbing each one between his thumb and index finger.

What had seemed impossible became abundantly clear as electricity surged through me. Tate was doing things to me that had me on the brink of either orgasming or screaming in pure delight. I decided right then and there that sex with the person you loved was incredible. I could trust him, and he allowed me to do whatever I wanted with him. All I had to do was ask.

"Harder," he whispered, one hand on one of my nipples, the other stroking his penis.

I moved his hand away from my chest and dug my shoulders into the back of his knees, pressing them toward his ears, lunging over the top of him, and putting all my weight on him as I pumped my hips into him.

"Ooohhhh," he gasped, wrapping his arms around my back and locking his hands.

"You like that?" I growled, getting into his feverish reactions to my thrusts. "You want it all?" His eyes widened at my offer, and he gazed at me, perhaps in shock. "That's right, my love. I've been holding back to make sure you were doing okay."

"You're naughty, Luke," he said, sliding his hands up my back, past my shoulders, and to my neck, pulling me down on him as he wrapped his legs around my waist.

Our bodies felt like one as we joined together in a frenzy of passion, him bucking under me while I pressed him into the mattress.

In one quick motion, I slammed the rest of my penis into him, pushing it as deep as I could go and holding it there.

"Oh, fuuucccckkkk," he cursed.

"You like that?" I asked, figuring he did, considering the way he'd said a bad word. I didn't wait for a reply as I brought my mouth to his and jammed my tongue inside, darting and struggling to catch my breath as I fought the urge to explode from the inside out.

I pumped harder while he kept his legs tightly around me, meeting every thrust with one of his own. Our mouths fought the same battle our bodies were fighting. Our teeth clashed as we couldn't get deep enough, far enough, into each other enough, our breathing sounding like panting as we made love.

I pulled back, and we locked eyes. Something alerted me that we were both on a thrill ride about to come to a close, and I needed him to know my experience involved love as well.

"I love you," I said, keeping my pace up, staring into his eyes, searching for his soul, and giving him everything I had. "Making love with you is amazing, Tate."

He pulled my head next to his, his mouth at my ear as he gasped with his pleasure. "Give me your cum, love. Fill me with your seed. I love you so much," he exclaimed.

I pumped into him. Deeper and faster while he moaned in pleasure. We were joined by flesh, me inside the man I loved. I was free to do what I needed to achieve my satisfaction, so I feverishly slid in and out of his hole, holding my penis deeper each time before pulling out again, repeating my action over and over.

Being inside him felt amazing and the only thing that gave me the ability to orgasm with no regret was knowing I'd get to do this as often as I wanted. Just that realization on its own caused me to get to the final edge.

"I love you," he said, gritting his teeth in sheer pleasure as he gave himself to me. His words and our lovemaking collided in perfect synchronicity as I convulsed, delivering my orgasm into his body, claiming him as mine.

Tate clung to me, grinding against me as his own orgasm splashed between us, both of us perspiring as we milked the very last drop of love we had.

Tate introduced me to lovemaking, uncorking a potential I'd never thought possible. He showed me that physical intimacy could be passionate and exhilarating while also being respectful and loving. I'd found where I wanted to be for the rest of my life.

We remained joined, our breathing regulated, but our desire to dis-entwine was not there yet. "That was perfect, Luke. You are such a gifted lover."

"I'm not done," I growled. "I want to go again."

His eyes widened when I moved into him, reminding him that I was still very much erect, very willing, to continue our lovemaking. His deflating penis found life as quickly as I made my intention clear.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," I confirmed, sliding my hands under his butt again. "This time nice and slow. I want to watch you as I make love to you again," I stated.

"I forget sometimes you're only nineteen," he said, grinning and stroking his penis.

"Does that make a difference?" I asked, wondering what he meant by me being nineteen.

"Not to me, it doesn't."

I covered his mouth with mine and plunged my tongue in at the same time I buried my penis back into him, thrusting deeper, pulling out, and thrusting in again, watching his face. He moved his arms above his head, giving himself over to me completely.

The second time we made love was relaxed. We kissed, we embraced, we became one body, one motion. Our movements were fluid, moving jointly as I led the dance. Tate wanted a strong man to love him. I'd be that man. The one to lead. Finally.

Life was just about perfect.