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“My room.”
I stand up so fast that I knock my head on the edge of the counter, but I don’t even feel it. I could be bleeding out but allI can think about is how I’ll go back to normal after this. About how in a few minutes, I’ll be on my knees with a dick down my throat and my whole world will be righted once more.
He pushes himself up, looking far too calm, but follows me down the hallway to my room. As soon as the door shuts, the lock clicking behind us, I’m on my knees, pawing at his jeans, tugging them down until they’re at his ankles. I don’t even pretend to be cool about it.
I’ve been obsessing over his dick for what feels like years, and fuck, it’s better than I imagined. Long and thick andhard.
A bead of precum sits on the tip, and I stick my tongue out and lap it up, like a needy animal. A dog.
His hand threads through my hair and his fingers curl into a fist.
I groan as I open my mouth, needy and desperate, and he guides his dick between my lips. It slides across my tongue, flavor exploding on my taste buds, and my eyes roll back into my head. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it. I shouldn’t be doing this, and yet, Ineedit.
“Eyes open, you greedy little cock slut,” he grunts as his dick hits the back of my throat and slowly snakes down it.
I’m not a cock slut. I have a hobby. I’m very devoted. There’s a difference.
My eyes water as I peel my eyelids open and glance up at him.
He’s staring down at me, his gray eyes stormy, like the clouds that move across the bay on a winter morning. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as his cock bottoms out inside of me, his balls hitting my chin.
He lets out a low rumble, his nostrils flaring, as he holds himself inside of me. I swallow around him, feeling my chaos start to settle. This is what I needed. This, right here.
His hand tightens in my hair as he pulls out of me and then pushes his way back in. I can taste the salt of his skin and precum. Fuck, it tastes so damn good. I want a belly full of it.
I let him control the movements. They’re slow and calculated, like he’s savoring this, like he’s trying to remember every second. I hope he does. Because this isn’t happening again.
This is a one-time thing to get me back on track, and then I can move on. A moan slips from my mouth, and then I do it again, unable to keep the noises at bay. I’m just so damn relieved that I’m getting what my mind and body needs.
The sounds slipping from my lips spur his movements to escalate, his cock pistoning into my mouth and down my throat before pulling out and repeating. The entire time, my eyes are on his. I can’t look away. I am utterly riveted.
Usually, I shut my eyes while doing this, retreating into my head while sucking, but I can’t wrench my gaze away from his. It’s like he’s managed to entrap me, and I couldn’t be happier.
My hands move up to grab on to his hips, steadying myself as he rocks into me, my own cock hard and aching in my pants. But I won’t come, not while doing this. That’s too gay.
And I’mnotgay.
The slick sounds our bodies are making as we meet make the entire thing too fucking real. My chin is wet with drool, my lips spread impossibly wide as he fucks into me. I’m rocked backward, almost off balance, so I let my fingers slide up under his shirt, gingerly touching his bare skin, grabbing hold of him. He’s hot to the touch, smooth and muscular.
I groan loudly just from this, and he lets out a slew of muttered curses as his hips jerk and he comes down my throat.
I swallow it, feeling some slide out of my mouth and down my chin. I expect him to pull his cock out, zip his pants up, and walk away, but he keeps himself inside of my mouth. He’s letting me warm him and my eyelids flutter closed as my fingertips diginto his skin. My entire body is relaxed, loose, soft, despite my cock still being hard.
It’s like all my thoughts and worries have disappeared, and for the first time in weeks, I’m at peace.
It’s only when we hear the front door shut loudly that he lets out a trembling breath and pulls away from me.
I slump down, my chin hitting my chest, inhaling deeply.
“You didn’t come,” he says, his voice rough. I hear the sound of a zipper, and I shake my head.
“I don’t need to.”
He shuffles before me, his shoes scuffing the floor.
“Because you’re not gay?” he asks, a tinge of something in his tone, but I’m too relaxed to care.
“Right. I’m not. This is just a hobby.”
