Sagging, he fell back on the pillow. Too old for a wet dream, he told himself. Too tired to finish. Still he reached down and cupped himself, sighing. His thoughts wandered to the dream of the face, the mouth, those deep brown, smouldering eyes.
He sighed with pleasure.
Weird dreams. Fuck me dreams. Where’d they come from? His thoughts faded into nothing.
“Open your legs. Let me suck you,” the deep, masculine voice whispered.
He eased his knees apart, pushing his toes against the bundled sheets, spreading his legs comfortably wide. A shiver of pleasure raced up his spine. He slid his hands down to his sac.
“Yeah,” he murmured, more asleep than awake. His balls shifted.
A mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He didn’t have to move, he knew it, trusted his knowing. He simply lay there and enjoyed the wet suckling of his glans and the silken tongue delving into the oozing slit. His ass cheeks clenched. His anus itched. He wanted…something.
The face was there, the dark eyes peering up at him. Amused, teasing.
His cock pulsed, the head battering at the back of a throat, that man’s throat, swallowed, squeezed, released, deliciously held again on its way into his gullet.
A finger slipped back between his ass cheeks, searching, delving for the dark, moist hole nestled between his glutes. The digit slowly eased inside.
Groaning, he flexed his butt, his excitement growing, yet still he half-slumbered. A dream, it has to be a dream.
“Yes, you like this. You always liked it up the ass.” The smooth, masculine voice crept into his sub-conscious, pushing his excitement up a notch.
He wanted to shift, to push his hips up, to bury the deliciously wicked digit deeper into his hungry ass. Sweat trickled down his ribs. He felt that, or dreamed it.
“My sweet Daniel, let me fuck you the way we both love it,” the voice droned.
Who is Daniel?