That was it. Horny brain engaged, forcing all rational thoughts away. I took a step forward and met his lips with mine. Finn let his cock go and embraced me, cradling my head in one hand and holding my hip with the other. I did the same, and we made out.
He tasted of Coke and rum and spearmint. His lips were soft, and his tongue possessive. I could smell the dried sweat on him, his wintry deodorant, and the lingering cologne he sprayed for the club. It didn’t take long for me to take hold of his cock and stroke it.
Fuck, that felt good. Kissing him, tasting him, and feeling him. His bare chest pressed against mine. And that big fucking cock in my hand. I had to resist the urge to push him down and fuck him hard, raw, and fast. I wanted nothing more than to see my load dripping out of what I assumed was his tight virgin hole.
But that wasn’t his energy. Not right at that moment, anyway. Maybe one day, or maybe never. Drunk in our sharedhotel room, I was putty in his hands. It’s the least I could do for groping him, like he had so eloquently said.
Finn leaned back, breaking the kiss. “Fuuuuck…” He looked at my hand on him. “Jesus, that feels good. I don’t really like hand jobs, but you know how to handle it.”
I smirked and met his eyes. “Yeah. I have my own. I know how to treat one.”
“Fuuuuuck.”
His cock pulsed in my hand, and I felt wetness leaking from the tip. I knew what he wanted, but was that what I wanted? To kiss him and jerk him off for five minutes? Less? No.
I let him go and stepped back, but kept my hands on his arms. I took in his beautiful body. Finn was perfect. In amazing shape. Not an ounce of fat on him, but also that kind of musculature you see on professional athletes. Not bulky or overbuilt, just a proportionate male body, all topped with an adorable, smiling, but confused face.
His confusion faded when I pressed my lips to his jaw, right below his ear, and licked. Finn moaned and threaded his fingers through my hair. I didn’t stop there and moved my way southward. Nibbling, kissing, and sucking his throat, clavicle, and chest.
When I got to his nipple, I sucked it into my mouth and flicked it with the tip of my tongue. Finn liked that and groaned with pleasure. He hadn’t removed his hand from my head yet, so once I gave his nipple a nip, he sucked air through his teeth and tightened his grip in my hair.
I continued down his body, drawing a line of saliva between his abs, which he found ticklish and clenched, making the trench between them deeper, and my tongue sharper. I didn’t stop until I knelt before him, and his beautiful, gorgeous, delicious cock.
After gathering his balls in one hand and slipping my fingers around his shaft, I looked up. “Finishing what I started would be jerking you off. But I can blow you instead?”
Some of his swagger dissipated. His eyes widened as if the idea of getting head had never occurred to him. Once that settled, lust took over. His voice shook as he said, “Yeah, man. Fucking blow me.”
The remainder of my rational brain said to give that man the best blow he ever received. I was never a throat goat, but I could take a lot of men deep. I’d be able to last more than a second or two on Finn’s monster.
But my horny brain wanted to enjoy his junk as much as I could. If this was all we’d ever do, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was, then I wanted the most out of it, too.
I pushed his cock up and out of the way to bury my face in his balls. He smelled amazing, but tasted better. Finn must have shaved before the trip, as tiny little hairs tickled my tongue. I always loved how a man tasted. Maybe it was the unbelievable situation, or our pheromones meshed well, but it was a flavor I’d come back to daily for the rest of my life if I could.
It made my blood boil, and the dominant top inside me bubbled to the surface. I nudged his legs apart to lick him deeper. He pulled at my hair when I did. I wanted to go further, to bend him over and eat his ass until he begged to give me his cherry. But I stopped myself. I was blowing him. That was enough.
Instead, I moved him to his bed and sat him down. It was easier to keep eye contact, and I made a show of licking up the entire length of his shaft. The treat of his precum waited for me at the end. Salty and sweet, something else I could eat every day forever.
I groaned and licked his slit to get more of it. Finn said, “You like that stuff?”
“Yeah, it’s great.”
“Never tried it.”
I ran my fist up his cock until the tip was wet again, then gathered the liquid on my thumb and brought it to his lips. He looked at me before opening his mouth to suck my thumb clean. Apprehension melted into acceptance, then enjoyment.
“Oh shit. It’s sweet?”
I laughed. “Yeah, some guys are. You are.”
Finn blushed as more of his bravado leeched away. In its place was the Finn I’d known for years. Just drunk and horny, and deeply happy. I was so fucking turned on by his confidence, but the sweet, adorable, kind of oblivious, but always-trying-to-do-the-right-thing Finn he’d been since we were kids was...Fuck.
So I took his big ass cock as far down my throat as I could in one go.
“Holy FUCK, man!” Finn hollered before gripping the sides of my head.
Having gotten what I wanted, it was time to suck him good. His cock stayed in my throat for a good three or four seconds, while I swallowed around him. Once I felt the gag, I let up, but not off, took hold of it, and bobbed.
My grip on his thigh was almost tight enough to leave finger bruises. I let up and massaged his spit-wet balls. He fucking loved that, and I felt his body relax more. “Fuuuuuuckinghell, Ry.”
