Fuck away,I want to tell him, but can’t.For obvious reasons.Fuck away and fill this hungry, desperate mouth with your seed.
His little body trembles as I shift gears, hands sliding from his knees to grip the couch cushion on either side of his dimpled little ass.The new angle is bolder, sexier, giving us both easier access to the pleasure we silently crave.His eyes widen as ours meet across his sweat-slick body.His are slightly panicked, as if unprepared for the velocity of my seduction, nor the enormity of my desperation.I wink and set about unraveling him, slurp by slurp, grunt by grunt, thrust by thrust.
It doesn’t take long.Not at this angle.Not at this pace.Not this night, our first, but hopefully?Not our last.“Jesus, Grady, I ...I’m...”
I ignore him, gripping the couch cushion harder as I gobble him to the core, holding him in place as he thrusts and grunts and ruts until at last I feel his release, as urgent as my own insatiable need.I gulp at its volume, thick, ripe, hot ropes of desire pumping down the back of my throat as I swallow his seed as quickly as he can spill it.
I blink sweat from my eyes, his softening cock still wedged deep as I watch him endure a whole body tremble, a ripple of aftershock surging beneath his taut, pale flesh, rolling gently like the waves of desire unspooling beneath his skin.When he blinks his eyes open to find me watching, he smiles shyly, and I know.In that moment, I know it’s so good he’ll never want another man’s mouth on his cock again.
I wink and let him slither, pink and soft and creamy, from my smacking lips.Mission accomplished,I think as I rise to kiss him, bruised lips slick and wet with his seed as he hungrily tongues my tonsils to drink deep of his own thick jizz.When he’s had his fill, Chet sags back against the couch, sticky, sweaty, sated.
Our eyes meet silently in the flickering candlelight reflected in his sweltering skin.“I’ve never,” he gasps before words fail him.
I sigh and stare down at his pretty little body.“You don’t have to say it, Chet.I know.”
“Cocky bastard,” he murmurs, undressing me with his eyes in a way that tells me I’m not the only cocksure fucker in the room.“Can you ...sit over there and take off your boots?”
“What?”I chuckle, surprised by the slyly commanding tone of his request.
“Yeah, I ...I’ve always wanted to watch someone do that.”
“Don’t they do that on your show every week?”
He nods, never moving a muscle as I sink against the nearest chair to do his bidding.What is it about man crushes bossing me around?I think to myself, grunting as I reach to wriggle out of my first boot.And why do I like it so damn much?
The leather beneath his sweaty bare ass creaks as he hauls his legs beneath him, sitting cross-legged as if we’re about to tell ghost stories around the crackling fire.“Yeah, but there’s always like twenty people around when it happens.Gaffers and grips, script supervisors and ADs, I just ...want this.For myself, you know?”
I wriggle the boot free at last, dropping it with a leaden thud like I see them do in western movies.He flinches delightedly at the sudden burst of noise.I start to reach for my sock, and his whole body leans forward, “No!”he insists, our eyes meeting in the echoes of his outburst.“Leave ...leave those on, okay?”
“Kinky fucker,” I purr, wriggling my big toe in my dirty tube sock.“You’re not going to like ...sniff them or anything, are you?”
His nose wrinkles.His face scowls.Then he freezes.“Not ...not unless you want me to.”
“Why would I want that?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs as I shift gears and reach for the other boot.“Some guys are into that kind of thing.”
“Are you?”
I admire the way his pretty little hands grip his pretty little feet.“I don’t know,” I admit, cock leaping inside my jeans at the thought.“Yours are pretty hot.”
“You think?”He glances down at them for a quick inspection.“I just got a pedicure,” he muses absently, as if to himself.
“Lucky me,” I tease, grunting and tugging the second boot free at last.
He licks his lips, nodding as I toss it next to the first.“Can I ask you a question?”
“You mean, something other than if I’m into feet or not?”
He smiles, charming me all over again.“Actually?It still has to do with feet.”
I wriggle my second foot.This tube sock is even dirtier than the first somehow.“This foot?”
“Both feet,” he insists as I sink back into the leather wing chair.
“Shoot.”
So he does.“Well, I mean, I couldn’t help but notice the soles of your boots.They ...you don’t wear them very often, do you?”
