There it is. The moment of realization, when mind and body start to settle and sync. When the fantasy settles in the skin and he can feel the phantom hands on his skin. "It warms under my touch, Bello. Shines in the sun's light as I press the rounded tip to the head of your cock. Unlike my thumb it is hard. Unyielding. There is no give, no softness, only the solid press as I let it start to slip inside. The first is thin, easily enough for your body to accept and oh, Anders. Does it accept the rod beautifully."

He takes a slow, steadying breath, voice still low and warm and curling. "I let it sink until it meets the hand holding you at the root, until I can rub my thumb against the skin that's slightly strained from having something inside. Without a word I stroke you from root to tip twice, twisting the rod slightly with each pass, then I say 'Ask me for the rest' for there are a few inches left, Bello. It is not quite deep enough to touch you where you should crave it most."