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Oliver, looking only a little disappointed and very turned on, went over to the large chair next to the couch, sitting down and covering the bold stripes of blue, pink, and white.
I left him there and hurried to the bathroom where I took one of the quickest showers of my life, focusing on all the important bits and hopping back out in record time. I wrapped the white towel around my waist and glanced in the mirror.
For a man turned freshly forty, I had to say, I looked bloody good. My chest and shoulders were defined with muscle, and my stomach was toned in a way that almost hinted at a six-pack if I were standing exactly right under the light. My cock, hanging heavy between my legs, was clearly visible, outlined through the towel.
I ran a hand through my hair, messing it up a bit, and stepped out into the hall.
Oliver was sitting in the chair when I reentered the living room. He looked so relaxed, scrolling through his phone with one leg up on the chair, one hand behind his head. He wore shades of blue which worked to make his eyes pop like diamonds on display. I shot him a glance with a smile attached and walked toward the kitchen to grab some water. That’s when I spotted something that piqued my interest.
And piqued something else along with it.
“Your zipper’s open,” I noted, my eyes dropping to the glint of gold coming from his crotch. My blood shot up in temperature.
“Oh?” Oliver, that cheeky bastard, looked down and, with a devilish grin, slipped his hand through the opening. “I didn’t notice.” He looked up at me, lips parting ever so slightly. Enough for me to imagine my tongue slipping in.
I didn’t want to imagine it for much longer. I went to him and bent down, grabbing his head in my hands and claiming his mouth with a kiss that rocked the very ground beneath me.
I gasped, as did he.
I moved a hand down to his crotch, feeling him as he stroked himself underneath the fabric of his shorts. His heat radiated off him. He squeezed his legs together, moaning into my kiss as he pushed his hips up, rubbing himself harder on my hand.
The kiss broke. I moved back, Oliver still sitting on my chair, one leg up on the seat, his hand jerking slowly inside his shorts. His other hand was resting on his neck, which was growing pink from the fire that pricked at his skin from the inside. The same fire that crawled through my veins as I watched him.
“Take those shorts off. I want to watch you jerk off.”
Oliver didn’t need any more direction. He cocked his head, smiling, and unbuttoned the shorts. He pulled them off, revealing a pair of white Calvins that looked as if they were about to split apart. His tip leaked, soaking the fabric and causing a dark and delicious stain to spread.
He massaged his length. It was hypnotic. I could watch him do this all night and still want more.
I stood there, watching as Oliver dropped his head back and hooked his fingers under the waistband of his briefs. He pulled them over and off, his hard cock falling out and slapping against his stomach, the sound filling the room and driving me wild.
“How in the world did I get so fuckin’ lucky.” I had to say it. Standing there, staring at Oliver’s thick and leaking cock, it did something to me. Made me crazy.
Oliver answered by licking his lips and taking off his shirt. He sat back in the chair, legs spread wide, thighs looking like a proper throne. I wanted to sit on him. I wanted to take him inside me. I’d never liked bottoming before, but with Oliver my body was practically shouting out for it. I could feel myself quivering, a pounding need making me focus on new parts of my body that I typically ignored.
Oliver started to stroke, slowly. He played with his balls in one hand, and with the other, he traveled the length of his cock, inch by sexy inch. When he reached the tip, he thumbed over himself, raising his thumb and showing the clear rope of precome he then spread over himself, causing his cock to glisten, the sound of wet skin working to fan the flames of need. He did it again, but this time, once he was slick with precome, he lifted it up to his lips and rubbed before putting it in his mouth and sucking, his eyes half-lidded, a devilish smirk on his face.
I let out a hiss of air. “Fuckin’ hell.”
He worked himself for me, keeping his eyes locked on me as his strokes became faster. My dick throbbed hard underneath the towel, which was beginning to look like a small shelter for gnomes with how big of a tent I made.
It caught Oliver’s eye. He stopped and nodded toward my crotch, the devilish grin making itself a permanent resident on his face.
I didn’t need words. I opened the towel and dropped it in a puddle on the floor. My cock bounced free, jutting out from me, half-hooded and leaking for my man. Oliver’s eyes widened as he followed my swinging cock, a hand returning to his.
His other hand moved from his balls, slipping down between his legs. He started to grind on himself, his eyes rolling back.
“Lift up your legs. I want to see you play with your ass.”
Oliver looked at me, those big eyes of his burning like hot coals. He scooched back in the chair so that his ass was almost hanging off it. Then, in something that was pulled straight out of my wettest dream, Oliver put both arms under both legs and lifted, exposing himself to me.
His hole pulsed with his breaths. He rubbed his fingers over himself, playing with his hole.
Something had come over me. I needed to have him. I went to him, my cock swinging like a bat as I walked. He looked up at me with big fawn-like eyes, the blue in them feeling like one of those infinity pools that I wanted to dive headfirst into.
I started to drop down to my knees. Oliver still held his legs up, exposing himself. My hands glided over his. I took hold of his legs as I got onto my knees, his ass ready to eat.
I went in, licking his balls first, getting him used to the sensation as my tongue flicked downward, over his sensitive hole. He gasped and jolted like I’d just spanked him.
