"Jesus!" I swore, as pulse after pulse shot deep into his innards and emptied my pent-up sexual desire in endless squirts of man-seed, draining the cum from my balls. I felt his buttocks clench two or three times, as if to draw every last drop from my captured tool, before I finally withdrew and collapsed beside him, spent.
But little did I realize, it wasn’t over yet. He raised his head on his hands, turned and looked at me.
"Hm!" he grunted, "OK, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? Well now it’s my turn!"
Frankly, I was speechless but at that moment, I hadn’t the strength to resist and he knew it. Before I knew what was happening, he had me on my stomach and was thrusting his hard and slippery cock-head between my arse-cheeks and against my reluctant hole. Only he didn’t wait for me to relax; with the impatient urgency of youth, he just shuffled forwards across my backside and rammed his tool into me.
God, did it hurt! I even yelled-out as he did it; I couldn’t stop myself but it was "my own fault" after all. Thankfully, my exclamation of pain made him hold still for a few moments, while I gathered myself and then consciously gave-in to him. Then he began gathering momentum, pushing and thrusting, urgently bringing himself to what he had decided was his just reward for my having taken advantage of him.
To be honest, he wasn’t hitting the right spot as far as I was concerned, and there was never a chance that I was going to reach another climax under his inconsiderate pounding of my backside. But it satisfied me, even thrilled me to know that I was the means he was using to bring himself off again. I was relieved when I finally felt him shuddering and grunting, as his second orgasm of the afternoon began coursing through his body. In that moment, I imagined again all that white, salty cum I had tasted earlier on my tongue, only this time, it was via a different route that it surged through that same tool and into my own body again.
On reflection, we had been fortunate not to be disturbed, lying together in sinful nakedness in the summer grass on a deserted riverbank all this time. There we were, both of us face down, legs facing the river, him on top of me, his organ still subsiding inside of me, when we heard the dreaded sound of the "putter, putter, putter" of an outboard motor. A boat was coming along the river. There was nothing we could do but lie as still as possible and just hope whoever was on the boat wasn’t looking in this direction as it went by. If they were, God knows what kind of view they got! By the time the boat passed, both of us were laughing ourselves silly, still laying there against each other, as the creamy white evidence of our afternoon of debauchery put, put, puttered from our relaxing holes and into the sunlight, where we eventually collected our clothes, returning silently and shamelessly home in my brand new BMW.
In this case, I guess you might say that "It must have been the car!"
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