The Cargo Ship Captain

I did. As I felt his dick expand and start coating my insides, my dick erupted all over my chest and stomach, untouched, one of the few anal orgasms I’ve ever had. They’re the best. They liquify you.

“Motherfucker,” he said, cumming over and over like he had earlier.

“Motherfucker is right,” I said, my dick so sensitive I dare not touch it.

Spent, he collapsed onto me, into the cum, surprising me. His lips found mine, and we kissed in exhaustion, our tongues languidly finding each other’s.

I don’t know how long we laid there like that, but I was almost asleep when I realized we needed to make plans for the imminent morning.

“Yo, Bryan,” I said, my hands squeezing his ass cheeks. “Wake up. We need to shower. We’re both covered in cum, and you have my ass on your dick. And, we need to figure out tomorrow morning.”

He was no longer inside me. He had softened and slipped out.

“Fuck tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’ll take a later flight. And fuck the cum, I can sleep with it on me. And fuck your ass, I can sleep with that on me, too.”

I laughed at “fuck your ass,” as he just had. Royally. Charlie was going to black out when he heard about it.

Bryan slid off me, I turned onto my left side, and he slipped his right arm around me, pulled me back into him, and we slept the sleep of the dead, me and my straight boy spooning like lovers.