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“Sometimes comfort food is the best.”
“I can promise you,” he says, coming close to pick up my golden cock in his hand, “fucking you will not be comfortable.”
He’s right about that. His cock is impressive in girth as well as length, the kind that makes my mouth water just to look at it. The balls hanging below it are heavy and ripe, and I want to stroke them, feel their velvet weight against my fingers, my tongue. “I’d like to suck you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you would. On your knees. I want to see those pretty lips of yours stretched wide.” He tosses the flogger aside as I kneel obediently, hands still behind my back. Romeo doesn’t often allow me to do this, so it feels like a treat.
I inhale deeply, inhaling leather and salt, and I shudder as his cock presses against my lips. But I pull back for a moment and look up. “Where were you?”
“Hm?” He runs his cockhead over my bottom lip, a fat, delicious promise.
“You weren’t here last night. You’re usually here on Fridays.”
He slaps my face gently. “Open up.”
I open, and he stuffs the first few inches into my mouth, depressing my tongue even in his half-hard state. “I was…under the weather. Workplace accident, I guess you’d call it. But Daddy’s all better now.”
I taste his musk on my tongue and I pull back to run my tongue all around his ridge, making him groan, before I let him pop completely out of the tight ring of my lips. “You were sick?”
“Not sick. Sore. Forget about that and suck.”
I go to work, sucking him into hardness, nosing down to his balls like I’ve been hankering after. They’re soft and warm in my mouth, and I know how good they’ll feel pressed up against my ass when he’s deep inside me.
“Enough.” He pulls out of my mouth.
I look up, spit running down my chin. “What?”
He gives me a little slap on the cheek. “I said that’s enough.”
“You don’t like my technique?”
He leans down, gets a hand on my golden cock before I can blink. “Your technique is fine. But this is what I’m interested in tonight. I want to watch it bouncing while you fuck yourself on my dick. Can you even get hard in there?”
“I can try.”
“That’s my boy. Up.” I get to my feet, and Romeo pushes me to the wall, holding me there with his hand around the back of my neck. “Nose to the wall. You know the drill.”
I sometimes wonder if it would surprise Sandro to see me so obedient to another man’s orders. But Sandro doesn’t like hearing about this kind of thing. He told me once it wasinappropriate. The second time, he cursed me out. The third time, he looked through me as though I was glass.
He’s no fun at all.
I hear Romeo preparing, the leather boots creaking a little as he sits on the old hospital bed in the corner, still fully clothed. This is how Romeo likes to fuck: completely anonymous, head to foot. He leaves all that gear on, including the mask. The only scents I ever get from him are leather, sweat, soap, lubricant and bourbon—and the soap and lube are the same ones provided in the depressing little bathrooms here.
I feel him watching me as I stand there, my hands still behind my back, my nose touching the thin wall. Next door, someone is getting spanked, yelping at each slap.
“Show me what I’m getting,” he says.
I bend over and spread my asscheeks wide, waiting in silence as he stares at me. I hear him breathing, a soft shifting noise as he strokes himself.
“Play with it. Open it up for me.” I run my fingers over my hole, pushing gently, and he hisses, “Don’t fucking rub at it. Get your fingers in there.”
I spit on my fingers and then push them into my ass as much as I can.
“How’s it feel?” he asks.
“It’s tight.”
“Always is. Better loosen it up for me, because I’m not gonna take it easy.”
