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I think that ship sailed when Ryan plunged his tongue up my ass.
Without warning, the flat of his wet tongue slaps against the underside of my balls, which are tight and sensitive as hell, then drags a path up to the base of my dick, but never quite goes up its length. Over and over, Ryan licks my balls, making me crave his mouth on my dick worse by the second.
Should I grab his hair and steer his mouth right where I want it? I’m genuinely fighting that urge for the mere sake of not being a total animal.
Is it considered rude or a thank you to gag someone with your dick after they’ve cooked you dinner?
Unexpectedly, his tongue traces the rest of the way up my now-throbbing dick. When he reaches the head, he circles it, and I clench all my muscles as the sensation instantly drives me crazy. If he isn’t careful down there, I just might knee him in the face on accident; I can’t seem to control the reaction I’m having to his tongue, which reads my mind.
And that’s exactly what it feels like. Ryan is intuitive as fuck, knowing precisely where I want his tongue to go, or how much pressure I want him to apply, or how to work me up with just the right tempo. I wonder if he’s as good with his whole mouth.
I hope I’m about to find out.
He flattens his tongue on the head of my dick, licking up the bead of pre-cum he’s earned from all that frustratingly perfect cock-teasing he’s doing down there.
Did I mention I’m clinging to the tabletop like it’s trying to run away from me? Like a cat in a panic, I’m clawing the surface with my shoulders hunched and tight as I endure the whirlwind of nerve-tickling sensations under the table. It’s maddening, how the way he works my dick gets me right on the edge and yet isn’t quite enough to help me spill over.
If he doesn’t swallow my whole dick soon, I’m going to make him take every damned inch of it myself.
Then he stops at once, pops off of my dick, and comes out from under the table.
“Come here,” he tells me, just like he did the night he gave me that life-changing massage.
Change of scene? I don’t hesitate, especially if it means I’m about to get the prize he’s made me desperate for. I get right up from that chair and follow him back to his room.
When we reach the foot of the bed, he gives it a pat. “Lie down. On your back.”
“Time for my massage?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
I climb up onto the bed. As I crawl into position, Ryan smacks my ass hard, which probably hurts his palm more than it does my ass. I get on my back and shoot him a superior look while I enjoy watching him nurse his hand and work out in his head what kind of steel my buns are made out of, I’m sure.
“It’s time for my dessert,” I tell him when I’m in position, then proudly hump the air a few times, my iron-hard dick ready as ever to resume.
A devilish sort of defiance darkens all of Ryan’s features as he circles the bed and pulls open a small drawer of his nightstand. “A promise is a promise,” he tells me, then produces an oval bottle that looks like the lamp of a damned genie. He doesn’t give it a rub and make three wishes, though; he twists open the top like a cork from a wine bottle, then tips it over his cupped palm. Oil. He sets the bottle down, then comes back around the bed and climbs on top of me, his palm upright and holding all the oil in it.
Ryan straddles my thighs with his dick hovering over mine, which looks like it’s trying to stretch up to kiss the end of his. He lifts his palm over the center of my chest, then slowly tips.
The warm oil pools between my pecs, some of it rushing up the crevice to the base of my neck. Ryan brings his hands together to give them a rub, then he lowers them to my chest to begin gently massaging the oil in circles.
Despite my impatience to finish what he started on my dick, I close my eyes and give in to the pleasant feeling of Ryan giving me a firm and soothing rubdown. The exotic aroma fills the room, something like burning wood mixed with some kind of spice. Ryan’s hands put me in a trance as he rubs my chest in large, slow circles, kneading me into a state of pudding.
The only thing not relaxed on my body is my dick, which still incessantly throbs, desperate for more attention.
