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He gives a long, lascivious lick up my shaft and presses his throat into my hand. “Harder,” he gasps.
I add my other hand, applying just enough pressure to watch the blood drain from his wet, parted lips, but once they take on that dusky hue, I let go—lifting my hands in surrender, refusing to go any further. His body jerks, shuddering hard. His fist pounds his own cock, and a raspy moan erupts from his choked throat. “Unnhh…fffuuuccckkk…” His face floods with color and he huffs out his gasping breaths as he looks down, I’m assuming, at his exploding dick while mine stands at attention—waiting and growing increasingly impatient.
But this is a sight, too. One I wasn’t looking forward to, but can’t take my eyes off.
He bruises like a fucking peach. And there is the air of a fallen angel about him—his fine, aristocratic features, his annoyingly glowing, youthful skin. His cocksucking mouth, that I can grudgingly admit, is perfect.
Maybe he’s more than just a pretty boy. Maybe he’s a little sexy, too. Maybe I’m not quite willing to say never again. Or maybe I just need to come so I can think clearly.
I slap him. Hard, directly across his left cheek, knocking his head to the side. He grunts and shudders again. “You forgetting something?”
He lifts his head slowly, one eye glaring through his tousled curls. He licks his lips and straightens up, taking my rock-hard dick in a firm grip. He rapidly jerks it too many times to count before his mouth is on it again, his suction as powerful as an industrial vacuum.
Oh shit—I asked for this, didn’t I? I dig my nails into the buttery leather cushion and brace myself, locking my jaw and tensing every muscle in my body.
It’s good. It’s so fucking good, I might actually lose my mind from how good it is.
Hands down, nothing has ever lit me up like this. I’m a nuclear reactor right now, and I’m about to?—
I’m about to?—
“Coming,” I whisper—it’s the only sound I can force out. I’m not even sure he can hear it over his sloppy slurping sounds. “I’m fucking coming,” I manage to say a little louder.
He looks up at me, unceasing in his efforts that brought me this far.
Thank God. If he tried to edge me right now, I couldn’t guarantee his safety. My balls thump with the inevitable, and a bolt of electric sensation cracks my spine, flaring in my groin, and it’s happening. “Shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit…”
Cum shoots down his throat, and he swallows repeatedly, making the problem worse, not better. I’m being milked for fuck’s sake, and it’s beyond glorious, past torturous. His fist is working me too, and I am so fully fucked, I can’t believe I’m not levitating.
“Jesus Christ!” I shout when he shows no sign of stopping, and I’m doing nothing to push him away. It feels terrible, and it feels fucking amazing, and I am in deep shit.
My hips writhe, and I’m holding his hair again, forcing him to keep sucking until I’m so overstimulated I’m on the verge of tears.
“This is so fucked,” I say, and it sounds like a whine. A goddamn whine. “Don’t stop,” I beg him. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” I’m gonna burn in hell for this.
He whimpers in protest, but I don’t let go of his hair. I can’t. My cock is so slick as it slides back and forth past his wet lips, and a wrenching pull twists my abdomen.
I motherfucking come again.
He coughs—reaching his limit. I let him go, watching in awe as another few streams of cum dribble out of me. “Fuck,” I breathe, stunned and on the verge of blacking out.
He’s still catching his breath, staring at my dick, too.
After a minute or two while we both come down and let our breathing return to normal, he looks up at me. “Want me to call you a car, or do you wanna crash here?”
A…car?
Wait.
“Here?”
“You look comfortable. But I don’t know if you live close or what.”
“I…don’t.”
He reaches out and slips his fingers behind the gaping waistband of my pants. I startle, my hands gripping hard on his. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Jesus, relax, Jack. I’ll send your clothes out to get cleaned. Just take ’em off.”
