Then, he’s taken as much as he can without choking, and he begins to massage the rest of me with his hand. Where he learned that trick, I don’t know.
It feels so good and looks even better. With his lips stretched like this, spit beginning to bubble around where I’m disappearing into his mouth with every bob of his head, I’m going insane.
I want to fuck him. I want to snatch him from the floor, rip his little slacks off, and slam inside of him until I’m emptying every last drop of my come into his ass, claiming him once more.
But Atlas didn’t ask for that. He wants totasteme.
“Do you like it, little bunny?” I stare down at him, panting heavier with each passing moment. Atlas stares back, eyes watering, but his tears are not yet falling to wet his cheeks. “Is this how you wanted it? Or did you want something more?”
Atlas slows, his tongue massaging the underside of my head in a torturous tease. Then, he hums in question, as if to ask, “What do you mean?” without ever removing my cock from between his lips.
“Do you want to keep exploring on your own, or do you want me to fuck your face how I fuck your tight little ass?” I ask him, and to my surprise, Atlas unhinges his jaw and lets loose theloudest, filthiest moan I’ve heard from a man while my cock is stuffed in his mouth.
Then he’s trying to nod, trying his hardest and failing, as I grip the sides of his face.
“Pinch me if you’re done, do you understand?” I wait for his response, but he refuses to let me go, so instead of verbally acknowledging my words, he just hums once more.
It sends jolts of pleasure up my shaft, settling in the base of my spine. I know that once I start face fucking him, I won’t last long, but he’s new to this, and I don’t want him hurting when we’re done anyway.
With my hands still gripping his head, I pull my hips back, take a deep breath, and slam them forward. When my head hits the back of his throat, feeling him contract over me, I groan loudly. At the same time, Atlas begins to cough wildly, only half silenced by my dick.
He does not pinch me, but I give him a moment once I’ve pulled my hips back until just my tip sits on his tongue, to let him breathe. Then, I shove back in.
Soon, I’m fucking into his mouth repeatedly, feeling his tongue desperately run over me, collecting precome on each withdrawal greedily. Drool pours down his chin, his curls sticking to his forehead with sweat.
His face is red, but he’s not choking on it, and suddenly I’m aware that he wants that. He evensaidhe wanted that.
So, when I shove back in, I bury myself to the hilt and hold him there. Atlas convulses twice before settling around me, swallowing and tracing what he can with his tongue. His face darkens, his eyes hazy as he watches me through falling fears.
As I peer down his body, I notice that it’s not just his face that is soaked.
On the front of his slacks, where he has his thighs pressed tightly together, there is a dark patch. He’s soaking his briefsandhis pants, just from the taste of me.
“Fuck, Atty,” I moan. “Take yourself out; let me see how much you love this.”
Atlas wastes no time as I pull out just enough for him to breathe again. He undoes his pants and pulls his dick free, letting it lie untouched on his thigh.
It appears he won’t touch himself without my permission.
Fucking perfect.
“Beautiful,” I tell him, shoving back down his throat and holding him there once again as he chokes and convulses around me. “You’re so wet just from blowing me. You love it that much?”
Atlas whimpers around me, his wide eyes dripping as his brows furrow, as if to say, “Yes, yes, I love it!”
“Ungh, fuck. Touch yourself. Work yourself over while I fill your stomach up with my come,” I demand, groaning around the words.
Atlas’s hand shoots up, wiping his chin and collecting his spit and my precome before bringing it to his dick and stroking hard and fast.
I match his pace, fucking into his mouth recklessly. As his teeth catch my skin accidentally, it heightens my sensitivity, causing me to jerk forward.
As I’m about to praise him, to tell him how fucking pretty he looks like this, we hear movement above us. As if someone is piddling around the chapel, praying or cleaning.
Atlas whines, high-pitched and needy as his hand speeds up.
Oh, he likes that.
“Hear that, baby?” I ask him in a low whisper, gripping his hair roughly as I slam forward. “Someone’s right above us. Someone is up there right now, on their knees to pray, and you’re right below them, on your knees forme.”
