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I wanted to moan onto something else, though. I broke the kiss and looked into Beckham’s eyes, the golden flecks gleaming against the field of green. I couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight.
He throbbed again, his thick cock pushing against me. I slowly dropped to my knees, licking my lips on the way, my mouth already watering in anticipation.
Beckham’s boxers looked like they were trying to escape him. I decided to be a Good Samaritan and help them. I pulled the waistband over Beckham’s cock and dropped the boxers to the ground. He stood there in all his manly glory, towering above me, his cock gently pulsing in the air, a clear drop of precome already oozing from the tip. I grabbed him and held him in both my hands, and I kissed the head, softly. Beckham groaned above me, but I didn’t pick up my pace. I slowly dragged my tongue over his wet tip. His knees buckled, his fingers knotted in my hair.
I still kept my pace slow. I lifted his cock up and kissed my way down his shaft. I kissed his sac, licking his balls before kissing my way back up.
“That’s it, suck me off, Olly.”
All teasing ceased. I sucked Beckham into my mouth. His loud moan rang through me, feeding me. His salty taste filled my mouth. I looked up at him and ran my fingers through his soft pubes as I blew him. The sounds of my wet lips traveling up and down mixed with the grunts that were coming out of Beck.
I took him all the way down. Like a sword swallower, I went down on his cock until my nose was tickled by his hair. I had to quickly resurface for air, only so I could dive back down, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Oliver, I can’t. I need to have you.”
I knew exactly how Beckham wanted to have me.
And I wanted it just as bad.
I stopped deep-throating him, leaving his hard cock soaking wet and gleaming under the morning sunlight. My body craved him like an addict looking for their next hit. My cells thrummed with desire. I stood up, our cocks crossing as I leaned up to kiss Beckham, giving him a taste of himself.
Moments later I was turned around, and Beckham had his cock pressed against my ass. I pushed back, my hole twitching. I felt empty, the fire inside me burning through everything and turning it to ash.
“Put it in,” I said, my voice husky with need. I held on to the pale yellow counter and bent over. Beckham spread my ass apart and spit, and he hit the mothertuckingbull’s-eye. I moaned as I felt the warm trail of wetness drip down my ass, down my balls.
Beckham opened me with his cock, sliding up and down my ass.
I said the magic words. “Please, Beckham, fuck me.” He didn’t waste another second. He aligned himself up with me and thrust, sliding into me with one smooth motion, sending me rocketing straight to space.
“Oh fuck!” I cried out. He met no resistance as he started to rock into me, fucking my brains out onto the kitchen counter. “Fuck, fuck,fuuuuck.” My words were drowned out by the sound of Beckham’s body slamming against mine. We didn’t have to warm into this, my body already needy from the night before, when I’d ridden Beckham like a bucking bull.
This morning was no different.
He was thick, and his cock was long. He hit every orgasmic spot possible. I was leaking like a broken faucet onto the tiled floor. With every hard thrust, Beckham milked my swollen prostate, sending a bolt of stars dazzling across my vision.
“Give it to me, Beck. Yes, yes!”
I started to come, unable to stop the floodgates from opening. Loud splats sounded as my come hit the kitchen floor. My body, from head to toe, went completely haywire. I shouted a garble of words as my cock erupted, both of my hands still holding tight to the counter, Beckham still pounding me into infinity.
Beckham’s orgasm hit like a freight train. His sounds turned primal as he fucked into me deep. He stopped thrusting, instead pumping inside me. His fingers dug into my hips as he emptied his balls into me, giving me exactly what my body had been crying out for. I could feel him inside me, shooting his load, his cock jerking with each shot.
When the tidal wave subsided, we both took a breath and let out bliss-filled laughs.
Beckham pulled out of me with a pop. I could feel some of his come dripping down my leg.
I turned and kissed him through the drunken smile. His hand gripped the back of my neck. “Fuck, I fuckin’ love you,” he said in a low growl, his breath dancing against my lips. My heart fluttered like an epileptic butterfly.
We cleaned up after our kitchen romp. I made sure to give the floors a little wipe down, and Beckham made sure to watch me as I crouched, still butt-ass naked and somehow still horny.
But our breakfast was calling. We finished cleaning and sat down to eat the delicious spread Beck had prepared for us. It wasn’t a terrible setup if I were being honest. He served me a tasty plate in the mornings, and I served him my tight ass in return.
A win-win situation.
We ate and talked about nothing in particular, time still shooting by in a flash like it always did when Beckham was around.
As we washed the dishes, I glanced at the clock and realized we were already pushing into the afternoon. Our breakfast had turned into a brunch.
“Shit,” I said.
