Here’s the updated version with that position detail added.
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I was already naked when the knock came at five. Hotel room in Leeds, curtains half-drawn against the late afternoon light. I’d followed his single instruction to the letter: douched thoroughly, showered, cleaned myself inside and out until I felt empty and ready. My skin still smelled faintly of the hotel soap.
I opened the door and dropped straight to my knees on the carpet.
Adam stood there in a dark suit, still fully buttoned, the look of a trainee solicitor who’d come straight from chambers. Pakistani, twenty-four, Muslim, clean-shaven, black hair neat and precise. His eyes moved over me slowly, taking inventory. He stepped inside, closed the door with a quiet click, and looked down at me for a long time without speaking. Just looking. Inspecting.
Then, quiet but firm: “Stand up.”
I rose. He pulled me in by the back of the neck and kissed me. The kissing was intense from the first second — open-mouthed, hungry, almost aggressive. His tongue pushed deep, teeth catching my lower lip, one hand locked hard at the nape of my neck so I couldn’t pull away. He kissed like he was already fucking my mouth, claiming it. I could taste mint and the faint heat of him underneath.
He broke the kiss only long enough to start stripping. Jacket first, folded carefully over the chair. Tie. Shirt. Trousers. Underwear. Everything precise, controlled, done while I stood there watching. When he was naked the rest of him came into view: trimmed chest hair, dark and neat across his pecs; thick, hairy legs; and a massive, dense man bush of black hair that framed a thick, heavy, cut cock. The head was smooth and already flushed. He was bigger than the photos had suggested.
Only then did he walk me backwards to the bed. He pushed me down and followed immediately, settling his full naked weight on top of me and pinning me so thoroughly I couldn’t move. His chest pressed mine, his hairy thighs locked around my legs, one hand gripping both my wrists above my head. I was completely trapped under him. The heat of his body, the solid weight, the thick cut cock already hard and trapped against my stomach, the scratch of that massive bush against my skin — there was nowhere to go.
He kissed me again, even harder this time, while he kept me pinned. The intensity of it made my head spin. When he finally pulled back he shifted higher, swung one leg across, and put his foot in front of my face. Size twelve, broad, strong.
“Kiss them.”
I did. I pressed my mouth to the sole of his large foot, then the arch, then took each toe into my mouth one by one, sucking slowly, licking between them while he watched and kept me locked in place with the rest of his body. The skin was smooth on top, the sole warmer, faintly salted from the day. His hairy calves and thighs filled my peripheral vision. He let me stay there for a long minute, then shifted higher and fed me his cock without warning.
I took him as deep as I could. He didn’t give me time to adjust. One hand locked on the back of my head and forced me down until my nose was buried in that massive, musky black bush at the base of him. The thick cut head pushed into my throat. I gagged hard, saliva flooding around the shaft and spilling down my chin. He held me there, unmoving, while my eyes pricked and my throat fluttered around him. Only when I started to struggle for air did he ease the pressure — just enough for me to drag in a wet breath — before pushing me down again, deeper this time. He fucked my mouth in short, controlled thrusts, using me, keeping me locked against that dense bush until tears ran from the corners of my eyes and my chin was slick with spit.
When he finally pulled me off, a thick string of saliva connected my lips to the head of his cock. He kissed me roughly again, tasting himself on my tongue, then forced me onto my back once more and settled his full weight on top of me. Hard. Heavy. Completely pinning me. He reached down, lined himself up, and pushed inside in one long, relentless stroke.
I was stretched open around him. He didn’t wait. As he started fucking me I lifted my legs, wrapping them high around his waist, ankles crossed tight behind his back to lock him in. The position pulled him even deeper and gave him full control. He drove into me with deep, heavy thrusts that forced the air out of my lungs each time his hips met mine. The bed creaked under the force of it. His voice was low against my ear.
“Sex with men is so fucking animalistic,” he said, thrusting harder. “That’s why I love it like this. Hard. Rough. No pretending it’s soft.”
He proved it. He fucked me like he meant every word — long, punishing strokes that filled me completely, the thick cut shaft dragging against every sensitive place inside me, that massive bush grinding against me with every thrust. My crossed ankles kept him locked tight against me; there was no space between us. Halfway through he lowered his head and bit the soft flesh of my chest, hard enough to break the skin slightly, hard enough that the sharp pain made me cry out. He didn’t stop thrusting while he marked me. The sting stayed hot under my skin as he kept driving into me, deeper, heavier, the wet sound of it filling the room.
I came first, clenching hard around him, spilling between our stomachs. He followed seconds later with a low, guttural sound, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me in thick pulses. He stayed inside me while he finished, hips still grinding slowly, my legs still wrapped tight around him, making sure I felt every last spurt.
Afterwards he ran a bath. We sat in the warm water facing each other, steam rising between us. I washed him carefully — the trimmed chest hair, the solid stomach, the soft heavy weight of his cock and balls nestled in that thick bush. Then I attended to his size-twelve feet again under the surface, lifting each one, kissing the soles, sucking the toes clean while he watched me with that same quiet intensity. When he was ready I took his softened cock back into my mouth and cleaned him thoroughly with my tongue, working through the dense hair, tasting the last traces of himself and me mixed together, until he was satisfied.
He stayed until the water cooled.