Anal Between Friends Doesn't Count As Sex 02

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 2: Morning Wood Doesn’t Count Either

I woke up first. The house was quiet. The curve of Michael's athletic body had lines of sunlight coming through the blinds. His bare back and round, symmetrical butt rose and fell gently with the sounds of his breath. I could still feel the soreness in my body and the strange calm that came after everything that happened the night before. My ass felt like it had a rock stuck in it, but it was still a good feeling. I felt used in a physical way, but my mind didn’t feel heavy about it. I stood for a minute just watching him sleep, half-expecting to feel awkward, but it didn’t come. He looked peaceful. Normal. Like nothing had changed, except the fact that we were sharing a bed. And he was naked. That was also new.

I slipped out of bed, tugged on shorts, and padded down to the kitchen. The tiles were cool under my feet.  It seemed like no one was home. There was no noise coming from anywhere except my tip toes. I cracked butter and veggies and tofu into a pan for a healthy start to the day, and listened to the sizzle. I had made breakfast here before, even though it wasn't my house, so I knew where everything was. The smell of yummy and savory breakfast filled the air, the yellow butter in the pan complementing the morning sunlight setting the tone.

I kept thinking about whether things were going to change now. Whether he’d treat me differently or avoid me. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do anything different with him. I mean if "it doesn't count," then ideally nothing would change, right? Part of me already knew we’d be fine. Michael never made things weird in general. He’d probably just joke about it, like everything else.

I was stirring the breakfast fry when I heard soft footsteps behind me. I didn’t even have to turn to know it was him. His deep voice still half-asleep, he said, “You’re up early.”

I turned and found him shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing a slight V-line that I'd seen a hundred times before. But now it made me flash back to when his abdomen was tensing as he thrust into me.

He smiled, a sleepy and warm vibe on his face, erasing any doubt in a second. His hair was messy, sticking up in the back, and his eyes were soft. But what caught my eye next made my heart skip. The fabric of his sweatpants was tented forward, large, obvious and heavy.

He followed my gaze, smirking. “Morning wood,” he said, with a casualness that expanded upon the typical way we always talked. It was a new day, with new boundaries. It was a comfort that I hadn't experienced before. 

I laughed under my breath. “Boy problems.”

He stepped closer behind me while I was still at the stove, close enough for his bare chest to brush the skin on my back. I braced as I leaned back into him, instinctively. I continued looking forward as his breath on my ear gave me a tingle. “Exactly.”

I set the spatula down slowly and felt his hand slide around my waist. He pressed forward, the bulge in his pants firm against me. My body reacted before my brain did, the same pull as last night returning, like it was already decided.

He tugged at my waistband. I guess it still doesn’t count, I thought to myself.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes over my shoulder. He had a smirk. My face was solid.

In one motion he tugged both our pants down, one hand steady on each waistband. The act felt instinctual, and the adrenaline from it had me gripping the counter for balance. My body leaned forward automatically, chest leaning over the stove as I steadied myself, my breath shallow and fast. He moved me so the cold counter bit into my stomach while the warmth of him closed the space behind me. I angled away to give him access to my ass, unsure if he really wanted to go all the way again, but letting him know that he could. His hips brushed mine as his heavy meat touched my lower back, his balls pressing into my ass.

He rubbed against me in small movements first like he was teasing me, dragging his wet tip along the curve of my lower back before letting it slide down between my cheeks. The size difference hit me again; he was heavy against me, not even showing off, just casually getting his pleasure from my body. He moved in a steady rhythm. His hand rested on my hip to guide me back slightly, the other bracing the counter beside mine. I could feel his breath on my neck, warm and shaky, and every time he exhaled, I felt it ripple down my spine. His naked body centered my balance as he aligned my back and ass to his tall, slender but dense frame.

He didn’t push in yet, just let the tension build as he moved his hips and traced the head of his cock along the center of me. Pre-cum smeared across my skin, slick enough to glide, and when he pressed in a little harder I could feel him hesitate. It wasn’t rough, rather it was cautious. The friction of him sliding between my cheeks and the contrast of his heat and the cool countertop was a strong sensation. My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter as his weight leaned forward, his chest pressing into my back more firmly. The smell of him mixed with the faint butter from the stove, and I realized how fast my heart was beating.

Neither of us said anything. The only sounds were the faint hiss of the pan, and the shallow rhythm of our breathing. I reached over to turn off the heat. It was done cooking, but it could wait. He started to push against my hole, but it was dry. I enjoyed the pressure, but it wasn't going to give him what he needed. I reached for the fancy jar of olive oil that their family only used for cooking the nice meals. I pulled it closer and left it on the counter, within reach of him.

He grabbed it quickly, pouring a liberal amount onto where his large appendage met my body. He didn't touch himself, just used his hips to rub the oil into my butt cheeks, pressing forward and finding the hole. My soreness from the morning was forgotten. As if there were a magnet inside me, his dick found my hole and popped in. I felt his body activate against me when he got inside me, mirroring the signal that his dick sent through my core.

His movements were careful at first, testing my reaction, then they were steady as he found a rhythm that worked for him. He grunted lightly against my ear as he held me, pushing in and out and going deeper each time. He stopped reading my reactions, putting his forehead against my back as he pushed through every breath and twitch. I tilted my hips back more and felt him respond, his hands pressing firmer on my waist and lower back. It wasn’t a frantic sexual frenzy like last night. It was slower, more lost in the moment, not chasing pleasure. Instead he was just happy to have his dick inside something warm. He was almost affectionate in its rhythm and his grip on me, the pressure of his body on mine. Each motion carried a ripple through my ass that I felt move up my body. 

The smell of breakfast was still thick in the air, cooling now, probably perfectly ready to eat, but we weren’t paying attention. All that existed was the heat between our skin, his heavy piece of meat inside my body, his breath on my neck. My hands gripped the counter edge, and I found myself pushing back into him without even realizing it. I was learning by sense of touch how to take his dick inside me. I wanted to make him happy. My mind alternated between going numb and racing. It was a mix of disbelief and surrender.

He let out a quiet laugh, almost a groan. But I don't even know what the joke was in his head.

His hands tightened on me and his rhythm changed, quickening. I felt the pressure inside me build like he had somehow gotten even larger, and harder. He was hard as steel and my body was still learning to conform to him penetrating me. My own breathing fell into sync with his as he bit my neck, slightly too hard. But I didn’t flinch from it. I just hissed slightly and pressed my ass back into him, trying to earn another load from him. It was messy, and it was wild. I reached for myself for the first time and started pumping my shaft. I quickly squirted onto the oven in front of me as my hole clenched down on Michael. He went to whispered into my ear, but lost the words. Just a quiet, "I'm..." before I felt his rhythm change into sporadic pumps. I could tell he was cumming inside me. Again. 

We didn't move when we heard it. Footsteps. We held still, out of some survival instinct. Then a gasp came from behind us. “Oh my god!”

It was Rhys.

He had walked into the kitchen holding a bowl of cereal, now frozen mid-step, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. He spun around so fast the cereal sloshed over the edge. “I didn’t see anything! Oh my god, I didn’t see anything!”

Michael stumbled back, yanking himself out of me quickly. It was a strange sensation to feel so empty so quickly. We scrambled to yank our pants up while Rhys just stood there covering his eyes, turning partly away. It felt like pure chaos in my brain.

"We thought you were gone!" I shouted as I looked for a shirt, forgetting that I hadn't been wearing one.

"Well I'm not!" he shouted back, in a rhetorical display of shock.

Michael started laughing, and so did Rhys. He peeked out between his fingers to confirm our pants were up, then put his hands on his hips and looked at us with half a smile, judging us.

"I, uh, made breakfast," I said, gesturing to the pan.

"I already ate," said Rhys, now smirking at us. He turned and walked away.

“Dude, you didn't see anything!” Michael yelled, half-laughing, half-panicked.

“My eyes are burning! I'm leaving forever!” Rhys yelled from down the hall.

For a second, the kitchen was silent again, except for the faint hum of the hood fan above the stove. Then we both broke into uncontrollable laughter again. I bent over the counter on my elbows, trying to catch my breath, while Michael leaned against the fridge, shaking his head. I felt the cum dripping down my legs. I was a hot mess.

“Well,” he said between laughs, “that could’ve gone worse.”

“Yeah,” I said, still grinning, “like if your mom walked in.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “Guess this is just what we can do now, huh?”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual but still catching my breath. “I guess so.”

“Since it doesn’t count,” he added, a grin spreading across his face.

We laughed again. I lifted the pan and looked at him. Maybe, for us, it really didn’t count in the way it did for everyone else.

He came up behind me one more time, arms wrapping around my waist loosely, chin resting on my shoulder.

I looked down at the pan. “I think I burned it."

"No," he said, picking up a piece of asparagus out of the pan with his bare hand and eating it. "It's perfect."