Page 70 of Scoring Chance

Having a dick in my mouth doesn’t feel as strange as I expect because it’s Des. We’re best friends. And friends do weird, unexpected shit with each other and can laugh about it after. I bob up and down on his thickness while Des runs a gentle hand through my hair, very gently guiding me. Electricity crackles between us.

“Yes. Oh baby.” He twists and moans under my touch. Des arches his back to push his cock farther down my throat. “Keep doing that.”

I stroke and suck him, just thinking about what I would like. Just wanting all of Des, wanting to do anything to make him utter those sexy sounds.

He pulls back, and my mouth feels sad and cavernous without his dick.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing. I want to join in on the fun.”

“You’re not that flexible.”

He sits up and adjusts me to lay parallel to him on the bed. His cock is shiny and hard and sticking up in the dark of night. He spins his body around to put us in prime sixty-nine position.

“Two orgasms with one position,” he says. At this angle, I can rake my eyes over his muscular chest and flat stomach. He has the slightest gut, but also the faintest abs, as if he’s standing on the pinpoint edge of middle age. His body has an overall thickness to it—some fat, some muscle, some that just comes with age.

“Hey, my cock is down there,” he says with a wink.

Before I can say another word, his mouth is on me, sucking my still insanely hard cock. I go back to burying his cock down my throat. I see if I can fit the whole thing in my mouth. Doing that makes him groan against my cock, sending scorching vibrations of need through my body.

My body tingles with the feel of his hot, wet mouth sucking me off. The orgasm begins to crest in me, surging through my balls.

“Taste so damn good,” he utters with heavy breaths.

I pray that all of my kids are deep in a REM cycle because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop before I come. Des has so taken possession of my body. His bitter precome soaks my tongue. I graze my fingers over his muscular, tree-trunk thighs.

I rock my hips to thrust inside his mouth while my tongue circles his firm cockhead. Des drags a finger to my ass, opening up electrifying new sensations for me.

I can only hold out so much. I want this to last forever. I want to continue giving this man pleasure, all the pleasure he can handle. My legs shake with impending release; his thighs tense under my touch.

“Come for me,” I say.

“Baby. I want to taste you so bad.”

I shake with lust and heat as my balls draw up and empty themselves into Des’s mouth. He thrusts his cock inside me as he shoots come down my throat. I swallow all of it.

We collapse back on the bed, catching our breaths, finding center. I am completely spent. I gave everything I had to my husband.

My husband. I love calling him that.

The silence stretches, comfortable but charged. The air hums with everything unspoken.

I stare at the ceiling long after the lights are out, after we cleaned ourselves up and put on our pajamas. Des returns to the position that started all of this mischief: spooning me. Pulling me so close I can feel the faint thump of heartbeat against my back.

I listen to the rhythm of his breathing beside me, wondering how long I can keep pretending my heart isn’t completely tangled up in him.

20

DES

I’ve closed multi-million dollar clients. I’ve presented at global conferences. I’ve handled screaming clients, impossible deadlines, and over-caffeinated artists. But none of that, not a single moment of my career, has prepared me for the level of stress that is family dinner night.

Correction: not just any family dinner—The Dinner.

Quite possibly the last supper I’ll ever have if I fuck this up.

The dinner with Stan.