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I started by sneaking just a few glances at him while he slept. Then a few caresses of his warm skin. After that, my lips wanted a quick taste of his mouth, his shoulder, his chest. I nudged his underwear down just a tiny bit to see the blond curls hidden there.
Before I knew it, I was giving him a blow job like some kind of porn star.
Well, like some kind of amateur porn star who didn’t really know what he was doing. But Sam’s dick was hard after all of my touching and kissing, and I wanted to see what it would be like to kiss it, too.
He groaned in a deep, sleepy voice and stretched his muscular legs. Sam’s hand landed in my hair and yanked gently on the curls. “Fuck that’s a nice way to wake up.”
His voice was so sexy, it was enough to make me even more desperate. “This okay?” I asked quickly, to be sure.
The only answer was his rumble of laughter.
I grinned and licked his shaft again, watching how it jumped when I tweaked a certain spot by the tip. Sam’s hand tightened in my hair.
“You’re killing me. Feels so fucking good.”
I continued experimenting, licking and sucking, teasing his balls, until he leaned up and grabbed my hips, twisting my body around until I felt his own hot mouth on me.
Sixty-nine.
If I’d had a wish list of sexual firsts, Sam would be checking things off like a madman.
It was impossible to keep paying attention to his erection while he was pleasuring mine. I became a whimpering blob of goo, so much so that Sam ended up laughing. The vibration of his laughter against my body made me feel even better, and I suddenly arched up, pushing myself deeper into his throat without warning and coming on a hair trigger.
“Aghh!”
Sam laughed and sputtered, trying to stay ahead of my release, but it was no use. When I glanced back down at him, there was cum dripping from his beard and coating his lips.
I let out another cry as my body convulsed again. How in the world was I allowed to be with this man sexually? There should have been a threshold one needed to pass, and I assuredly would never, ever have passed it.
I reapplied myself to my own task and sucked him down as quickly as I could, bobbing up again when I gagged. If I couldn’t give him talent, I could at least offer as much enthusiasm as possible.
It worked. But as soon as he started coming, I quickly pulled off out of fear of being drowned. I didn’t exactly want my inexperience to lead to sudden death right in front of him.
I heaved in a much-needed breath and smiled at my success.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, sobering up. “I could watch you come all day every day.”
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Um, okay. I’m cool with that.”
He laughed again, and it was a joy to see. Until I remembered where he was supposed to be.
I scrambled around and reached for my discarded shirt before using it to wipe his mouth off. “What happened with your mom? Why are you here? What happened?”
I’d wanted so badly to offer to go with him yesterday, to ease his pain or somehow attempt to comfort him while dealing with his family emergency. But it hadn’t been my place. I barely knew him, so I’d forced myself to bite back the ridiculous offer before it could have escaped my lips.
He took the shirt from me and dropped it over the edge of the bed before taking me into his arms. His face was suddenly stormy. “It was all a lie to get me to come home.”
My heart sank. “You’re kidding?”
Sam shook his head. “Wish I was. I’m so angry. And hurt. I watched Mikey go through his own family shit last year, and I remember feeling sorry for him. But I guess I just didn’t want to see how bad it was with my own family. It’s probably why he and I developed such a close relationship. We both needed someone.”
I was envious of their relationship. I’d never had a friend like that. I had Chaya now, but it wasn’t quite the same. She was an extrovert, friends with everyone. Or maybe I was the reason we weren’t as close as we could be. Often, I stopped myself from sharing things out of fear I’d sound like a whiny baby. I’d spent years being told to stop feeling sorry for myself and keep my complaints quiet. My mom was even known to throw out a “You think you have it bad? Imagine that poor skier who lost his chance at an Olympic gold medal” from time to time.
I quickly learned to keep my feelings to myself.
