Temptation by the Pool
The sun warmed my skin as I stretched out on the lounger, my wet Speedo clinging tightly, the fabric barely containing the thick outline of what lay beneath. My muscles, pumped from my earlier swim and handstand pushups, were especially full, every vein and line etched sharply in the light. I leaned back, letting one arm drape lazily behind my head, fully aware of how I was presenting myself. It was working, as Allan’s gaze kept flicking toward me, hovering longer than he probably realized before darting away.
Across from me, Allan sat awkwardly, his knees drawn up, holding his drink loosely in his hand. His eyes roamed over me, hesitant but hungry, like he couldn’t help himself. Every time he thought I wasn’t watching, his gaze lingered a moment too long before snapping away. When our eyes met, his face flushed deeply, and he glanced down quickly, his attempt at casual indifference falling apart under my smirk. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but his fascination was written all over him.
“Guess you’re not so busy after all,” I said, breaking the silence, my grin widening as I gestured toward the drink in his hand.
Allan blinked, his gaze snapping back to my face. “What?”
I stroked the water from my smooth quads, letting the moment linger. “You know, the research you said you had to do earlier,” I said, smirking. “What changed?”
“Oh, uh...” He stammered, looking down at the can like it might offer him a lifeline. “I, uh, figured it’s such a nice day, you know? Hard to focus indoors.”
“Right,” I said, letting the word draw out, my tone teasing. “Or maybe you just didn’t want to take your shirt off in front of me.” I looked towards him, watching his reaction.
“What? No!” His voice came out too loud, and he immediately winced. “I mean... it’s not that. I just... I’m not exactly...” His voice trailed off as his blush deepened and he gripped his drink tighter.
“Relax, Allan,” I said, chuckling as I leaned back again. “It’s all good.”
He nodded quickly, his gaze darting anywhere but at me. The tension between us was building, thickening with every passing second, and I was happy to let it simmer before pushing a little further. “So,” I said, smirking as I caught his gaze again. “What’s it like for you? Sitting across from all this?” I gestured toward myself, deliberately letting my fingers trail along my chest before dropping my hand to rest on the arm of the chair.
His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his mouth opening like he wanted to respond, but nothing was said.
“Come on,” I said, my grin widening, letting him know I was enjoying this. “You were staring earlier. Own it.”
“I wasn’t— I mean—” He fumbled, his face practically glowing now. “I was just... you’re... uh...” He trailed off again, clearly unable to finish.
I chuckled, letting him off the hook for now. “It’s fine, Allan. I get it. People react differently to me. Some guys get jealous or insecure.” I shrugged, my tone casual. “Others? They just can’t stop staring.”
His blush deepened, and he looked down, nervously passing the drink between his hands. “I wasn’t... like, uh..., I didn’t mean to—”
Trying to recover, Allan cleared his throat and looked up again. “So, um... what does Brian think? About your bodybuilding, I mean.”
I raised an eyebrow, the question catching me off guard. “Your brother?” I asked, casually scratching my chest. “We’ve been friends forever. He’s used to it. We don’t really talk about it much.”
I watched for a moment, as Allan squirmed in his seat, his discomfort practically radiating off him. There was no denying it now—he was more than curious; he was hooked. And I was done being subtle about it.
You’re a lot more interested than Brian’s ever been,” I said, my grin sharpening as I leaned forward, letting my voice drop just enough to make him squirm. “Brian doesn’t even blink when I take my shirt off. But you? You’re different. You can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”
His head shot up, his wide eyes meeting mine for a split second. He was stunned. “I’m not— I mean...” he stammered, his voice trailing off as his blush deepened.
I decided to push him a little further, leaning back and casually stretching one leg out in front of me. My quad swelled from the motion, the thick muscle tightening and shifting with deliberate precision. As I flexed, the sheer size of it became impossible to ignore, the teardrop shape of the vastus medialis flaring outward with each subtle movement. Deep striations carved across the muscle, accentuating every ridge and valley, while veins snaked over the surface, pulsing faintly in the sunlight. I knew the effect it would have, the way the raw, physical power on display could draw Allan in And I was ready to see just how much more he could take.
I saw his gaze snap to my leg, lingering as if he couldn’t get enough. His breathing hitched, and I watched the way his lips parted slightly, his stare betraying just how much he was trying—and failing—to keep it together.
He blinked rapidly, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but there was only strangled silence. His hands tightened around the drink in his lap, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to pull himself together, the tension practically rolling off him in waves.
“I’m just saying,” I added, letting the moment stretch as my smirk widened, my tone light but deliberate. “It’s nice, talking to someone who actually pays attention.” As I relaxed my leg, I trailed my hand lazily along my chest. “Most people don’t know what to do with all this,” I taunted, watching him as he sat there, riveted by the moment.
“I’m not— I mean, it’s just...” His words tumbled over each other, his voice shaky as his eyes flicked up to meet mine, only to drop back to my leg. He was completely flustered now, struggling to form a coherent thought.
Watching Allan squirm was too good to stop. I chuckled, leaning back into the chair, letting my grin widen as I soaked in the moment. Finally, I offered him a reprieve. “Chill, dude,” I said, my voice low and confident. “It’s fine. I like how you’re reacting to me. I like how... captivated you are.”
The sun hung heavy in the sky, the warmth settling over the patio as I lounged back in my chair, my limbs stretched out and my torso still glistening faintly from the pool. In contrast, Allan sat rigidly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He was trying so hard to act normal, but his darting glances and fidgeting gave him away.
I let the silence linger, savouring the way he squirmed under the weight of my gaze. Then, slowly, I let my hand drift to my abs, stroking them lazily, gleefully calling attention to the hard ridges beneath my fingertips. I flexed deliberately, the muscles tightening and popping, then rolled them in a slow, practiced wave. His eyes locked on the motion, stunned by what he saw. A smirk tugged at my lips as I paused “the show,” giving my admirer a moment to compose himself.
As I’d been doing since I arrived, I decided to push him a little further, letting the silence hang just long enough to keep him on edge. “You ever think about working out, Allan?” I asked, my tone light but carrying just enough challenge to make him squirm. “Could do wonders for you. Might even help with girls.”
His head shot up, his wide eyes locking onto mine for a split second before re-focussing on a tree behind me, a blush slowly creeping up his neck. “Uh, I mean... I’ve thought about it, but... I’m just so busy with my PhD and everything.” He glanced at my chest and shoulders, his voice wavered, thin and unconvincing, as if he wasn’t even buying his own excuse.
“Right,” I said, my smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth as my hand drifted to my quad. I stroked the thick muscle slowly, my fingers tracing the defined curve with deliberate care. “So… too busy for the gym. Too busy for dating.” I let the pause linger, my gaze steady on him. “Sounds like you’re not interested in dating girls at all…”
He froze, his shoulders stiffening as though I’d just called him out on a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “What? No! I didn’t say that!” He protested anxiously, too fast, too defensive, each word tripping over the last. The flush on his face deepened, and his chest rose and fell too quickly. It was clear he was struggling to keep his composure. I leaned back slightly, my grin widening as I let the moment hang, enjoying the way he seemed caught between denial and something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit.
“Relax, Allan,” I said, reaching up to scratch the back of my head lazily. The motion had the predictable effect, the muscle rounding into a perfect peak. His gaze locked onto it, his lips parting slightly as if the playful flex had scrambled his thoughts. He stared, frozen, until my voice pulled him back. “I’m just trying to figure you out,” I continued, my tone light but deliberate. “It’s almost like you’re avoiding something.” My smirk deepened, the pause hanging between us, thick with unspoken tension. “Maybe I’m just not seeing the full picture.”
His face flushed a deep red as he struggled to respond, his hands again tightening on the drink in his lap. I could see the battle playing out in his head—the urge to push back against me clashing with the pull of his gaze, drawn helplessly to my swelling bicep. He hesitated, his shoulders tightening as his eyes dropped to his lap. “You don’t,” he murmured, his voice barely audible
I lowered my arm and rolled my shoulders, resting my elbows on the armrest, letting my Speedo catch the sunlight. “Maybe I don’t,” I said, keeping my tone light. As I spoke, his gaze flicked back up, drawn to my movements. “But you could probably help me figure it out. For example...” In a gesture intended to capture his attention, my hand drifted lower, my fingers brushing the waistband of my swimsuit before trailing along the growing outline of my arousal, slow and deliberate. “You think red suits me?”
His head jerked up, focussed upon my lingering fingers before he finally caught himself. Realization hit, and his face went crimson, the blush racing up his neck and flooding his cheeks. “I... I mean... yeah, it’s fine,” he stammered, his voice cracking as he tried and failed to steady it. His words tumbled out in a rush, sounding more like a plea for mercy than an actual response.
“Fine?” I teased, letting my grin widen as I shifted on the lounger, rolling my hips slightly so my Speedo caught the sunlight, the fabric stretched taut over all that it struggled to contain. The deliberate motion pulled his gaze like a magnet, his eyes flicking down almost involuntarily and staring longer than before. “Come on, Allan. Just tell me. Does it suit me?”
His gaze lingered this time, his face caught in a battle between restraint and surrender. The hesitation was written all over him, like he knew he shouldn’t look but didn’t have the strength to stop. “Y-yeah,” he finally mumbled, his voice barely audible, the words tumbling out as his blush deepened. “It suits you.”
“That’s better,” I said, leaning back fully, letting my hand trail casually up to my abs. “I thought so too.” I paused, my grin deepening as his gaze flicked back to me, unable to stay away. “It takes a certain kind of physique to pull off a Speedo, wouldn’t you say?” Allan’s eyes widened, and though he tried to look away, his gaze kept returning, feasting on my shredded torso. “Uh… I thought we were talking about the color,” he mumbled, his tone awkward and defensive.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “And judging by how you’ve been staring, this Speedo must really be working for me.”
His eyes widened, his face flushing deep crimson as the words hit. “I wasn’t— I mean—” he stammered, his voice cracking as his gaze darted to my arm, again posed behind my head, then flicked to my chest like he couldn’t decide where to rest. His hands fidgeted uselessly at his sides, his frustration mounting as his gaze again faltered. There it was—a flash in his eyes, a mix of embarrassment and something sharper, like he thought I wasn’t playing fair. And maybe I wasn’t, but that only made it more fun.
I lay there in silence, watching the way his chest rose and fell faster now, as he struggled to catch his breath. The tension in the air was palpable, even heavier than before. We’d crossed into something deeper, something unspoken but undeniably present. And I wasn’t about to stop steering us there.
“You know,” I said, my voice softer now, almost thoughtful, “I get it. You’re trying to figure this out... trying to figure me out. That’s fine.” I paused, letting the silence stretch just enough to make him squirm. “So, tell me, Allan—what do you think is my most impressive muscle?”
His lips parted, his breath catching as he blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the question. “I... uh...” His gaze darted across my body, his blush deepening as he swallowed hard. “Your biceps,” he finally stammered, the words barely above a whisper.
I grinned, flexing my arm slightly, the muscle swelling into a thick, round peak. “Good choice.” I let the words hang for a moment, watching his reaction before adding, “You kinda look like you want to touch them… my biceps.” My tone was light, almost casual, but the suggestion landed like a thunderclap.
He gasped loudly, his eyes locking on my arm, wide and uncertain. “I... I don’t know if—” He stopped himself, the hesitation in his voice betraying the conflict in his head.
Standing slowly, I moved closer, my shadow falling across his slender frame. His head tilted back, his wide eyes meeting mine, filled with something more than nervousness—it was need. I felt the weight of it, the way he was looking up at me like he was caught in my orbit, unable to pull away.
I stood there, towering over him and leaned forward slightly, pumping my arm in his face, as my smirk widened. “Are you really going to deny yourself?” I paused, letting the question hang, savoring the way his blush deepened.
I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he was caught between fear and desire, his body trembling with the weight of the moment. The heat in his blush deepened as the tension stretched. I stayed silent, letting him make the choice. This was about watching Allan give in to what he wanted. To cross the line he’d been skirting all day.
Then, slowly, his tongue flicked out, tracing his lips in a way that hinted at his growing willingness to give in to the hunger I was awakening. He then stood abruptly, the cooler in his lap nearly tipping over as he set it aside. His arms hung stiffly at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching, a visible struggle playing out in his posture. As he looked up at me, the tension between us hung heavy, thick with unspoken possibilities. I stood still, aroused as I watched Allan surrender to the undeniable hunger stirring within him.
Slowly, his hand lifted, trembling slightly as he reached toward me. His fingers brushed my arm, hesitant at first, as though testing the heat of my skin. Then, emboldened, he pressed his palm against the hard curve of my bicep. His breath caught audibly, a soft gasp breaking the silence. “How... how is this real?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his awe palpable. His hand lingered, his fingers twitching as they moved upward, trailing over the dense, rounded peak of muscle.
His index finger traced the thick vein running over my bicep, following its path as it snaked toward my shoulder. His breathing faltered, shaky and uneven, and his words came out in stammered bursts. “T-twenty-one inches,” he murmured softly as though trying to process its sheer size. His touch was slow, reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. The quiet intensity in his expression told me everything—he was lost in the moment, unable to pull away.
Allan’s attention remained locked on my arm, repeatedly tracing the vein as if in a trance. As he explored my bicep, I shuddered lustfully, the sensation igniting something deeper within me. It wasn’t just his touch—it was what that touch represented: his raw curiosity, the undeniable hunger in his movements, the way he seemed drawn to me despite himself. I let my muscles speak for themselves, confident they could say more than words ever could. Each second he lingered fed a growing tension between us, heightening the pull I knew he felt. That realization sent a surge of pride through me, feeding a visceral, unspoken need. I smirked, savoring the seductive power I held over him and the way he seemed helpless to resist.
Driven by the heat coursing through me, I reached for his hand, guiding it toward my chest without a word, the silence between us deliberate, charged with anticipation. His eyes flicked up to mine, wide with uncertainty, but he didn’t pull away. When his palm met the thick slab of striated muscle, he hesitated for just a moment before pressing lightly against me. I flexed under his touch, the deliberate tension in my body making my intention clear—I wanted him to feel everything, to be drawn in completely.
“Noah… it’s... it’s like solid stone,” Allan finally confessed, his voice trembling, barely above a whisper. His hand lingered, trembling slightly as his fingers spread, trying to take in the expanse of my chest. "How does someone even build muscles like this?" he added softly, his voice thick with something between awe and disbelief. His fingertips dragged slowly over the curve of muscle, tracing the subtle contours as though he were committing every detail of my 52” chest to memory.
I wanted to encourage him, to let him know he should keep going. Finally, I broke my silence, my voice low and steady. “You’ve got a great touch.” His gaze snapped up, wide with disbelief, before falling back to my chest, he paused as if to confirm the reality of what he was experiencing. “Don’t stop,” I added, the quiet intensity in my tone leaving no room for doubt.
With greater confidence, he traced the ridge of muscle where my chest met my collarbone. His touch was slow and deliberate, clearly savoring the experience. As his hand drifted lower, his fingertips grazed the textured inner edge of my pecs. I tensed slightly, the movement deliberate, causing the inner edges to ripple and striate, with deep lines etching across the dense muscle. The sight seemed to mesmerize him.
When he reached the center of my chest, his fingertips pressed into the groove between my pecs, assessing the thickness of the muscle. With a smirk, I flexed again, this time firmly and without warning. The thick slabs surged together, trapping one of his fingers in the deep crevice. He gasped loudly and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. Wide with astonishment, his gaze held mine as though he were trying to comprehend the sheer power and control beneath his touch.
He tugged tentatively. “You want your finger back?” I asked, my smirk deepening.
He nodded quickly, his face crimson, but I didn’t let him off that easily. “Say ‘please.’”
“P-please,” he stammered, the word barely audible.
I chucked and relaxed my chest, releasing him. Instead of pulling away, his touch lingered, stroked along the impressive arc of my pec, then brushing against my nipple. The reaction was immediate—my skin tightened, my nipple hardened, and a jolt of heat shot through me. The intensity of this new sensation, this new experience, churned my balls with a mix of raw lust and the anticipation of what was to come.
I let him continue, watching as his breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, his chest rising and falling like he needed more air. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze fixed on the powerful curves and ridges of my upper body. With growing confidence, he now moved on to my shoulders, his touch growing firmer as he traced the dense, cannonball-shaped delts. He stroked the rippling muscles, as though marvelling at the sheer hardness beneath his digits.
A soft, barely audible moan escaped his lips when his hand drifted upward, brushing over the mountainous traps that framed my neck. His touch lingered there, his fingers spreading slightly to assess their density, his breathing uneven as he pressed into the solid muscle. The sound sent a pulse of satisfaction through me. He wasn’t long past curious—he was enthralled.
“You’re into this, aren’t you?” I teased, my voice dropping slightly, carrying just enough bite to keep him on edge.
His blush deepened, the flush creeping down his neck, but his hand kept moving. It trailed over the dense ridges of my pecs before drifting lower with growing boldness. By the time his fingers reached the defined grooves of my relaxed eight-pack, his expression was one of awe, almost overwhelmed. His touch lingered, hesitant yet yearning, and when I flexed beneath his fingertips, a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips..
The tension between us was heavy and charged, the air practically crackling as I watched him lose himself. I reveled in the power of the moment, the way he’d yielded completely to his desire, caught up in what I was making him feel. This was exactly where I wanted him—captivated by the connection between us. His fascination with my muscles was palpable, feuling my hunger to push this moment to its inevitable conclusion.
My voice dropped to a whisper, low and deliberate, my breath brushing against the shell of his ear as I spoke. “You’re shaking, Allan,” I murmured, my tone soft but teasing. “Can’t handle me, can you? All this... so close.” I let my words sink in, watching the way his lips parted, he was practically panting. With a smirk, I leaned in closer. “Tell me, Allan, are you about to blow your load just from worshipping my muscles?”
My words lingered in the air, charged and provocative, yet laced with intimacy, pulling him deeper into the moment. I licked my lips, savoring the way they landed, the flush spreading across his cheeks as his entire body tensed, caught in the grip of everything I was making him feel.
“What?” he gasped, his voice high-pitched, cracking slightly. “Of course not—I’m not even touching myself!” His protest was quick and defensive.
I tilted my head, smirking as I studied him, my gaze unrelenting. Slowly, I reached out and hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his face upward until his wide, startled eyes met mine. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he’d been sprinting to keep up with me, and I could feel the tension radiating off him. “Look at you,” I murmured, my voice dropping lower, teasing but deliberate. “It’s written all over you. You can’t hide it, no matter how hard you try.” My thumb brushed lightly against his jawline, the contact sending a subtle shiver through him.
“I can see it in your eyes, Allan. You need this. Just admit it,” I said, my tone soft but direct, the words deliberately edged to push him some more, to test how far I could take this moment.
The silence stretched between us, his mouth opened, but no sound came. I gave him a beat longer, then sighed dramatically, stepping back just slightly. He needed another nudge. “Or maybe I’m wrong,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I raised my hands in mock surrender. “If that’s the case, I’ll leave… now. No point in sticking around if you don’t want me here.”
I confidently locked eyes with Allan, watching the panic bloom on his face as he processed what I’d just said. He clutched at my wrist. “No! Don’t—” His voice cracked, cutting him off as he struggled to contain his need for this. “I mean... please. Don’t go.”
I raised an eyebrow, letting my smirk return slowly. “So you do want me here,” I murmured, my voice low and deliberate, drawing the moment out. His grip on my wrist tightened instinctively, and as I curled my arm slightly, the motion pulled him closer, until he was standing just a breath away. His wide, uncertain eyes locked onto mine as he looked up, the vulnerability in his gaze impossible to ignore.
“Yes,” he whispered, barely audible but laced with desperation. “I need you to stay.”
My smirk curled further as I leaned closer. “That’s more like it,” my tone edged with cocky certainty. “Don’t fight it, Allan. This isn’t something you resist. I promise—you’re not ready for just how good this is going to be.”
His shudder was immediate, his breath catching as my fingers drifted lightly along his collarbone. The way he tensed under my touch, teetering on the edge of surrender, only fed my hunger to push further. Closing the distance, I pressed my lips against his in a powerful kiss, reminding Allan how much he craved this.
My thick tongue probed his mouth, and at first, he froze, his body stiff and uncertain. But as my hands slid down to his waist, he melted into me with a soft, desperate moan. The heat of him was intoxicating, his body pliant and eager, as though every part of him had been waiting for this moment.
As the kiss deepened, his fingers clutched at my shoulders for balance, his breathing growing ragged. The sound of it mixed with the faint rustle of his polo against my skin, the subtle friction heightening the tension. Then, suddenly, he tensed—a sharp gasp breaking the kiss as his hands gripped me tighter. His entire body shuddered with release, and I smirked knowingly as he ground against the thick curve of my quad, completely lost in the moment. Each urgent movement punctuated by a soft grunt, and a surge of satisfaction coursed through me as he finally let go, surrendering to everything I knew he wanted.
I held Allan there for a moment, letting the intensity of what just happened settle over both of us. His breathing slowed, though it remained uneven, his forehead briefly resting against my chest as he struggled to recover. I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face as I watched him process it all.
When I finally pulled back slightly, I caught the way his gaze flicked up to meet mine—wide, uncertain, but still full of awe. “Allan,” I said, my voice teasing but warm, “did you just...?”
He looked at me, his lips parting as if to speak, struggling to find the words he needed. His gaze darted from my chest to my eyes, lingering for just a second too long. “I—I don’t know what happened,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “It’s just... you. The way you are, your body, your muscles, the way you feel—” His hand lifted slightly, almost instinctively brushing over my pec as if to confirm the heat and hardness beneath his fingers. “You’re... I don’t know what you are!”
His blush deepened, and he looked away quickly, but not before I caught the flicker of hunger still burning in his gaze. “I didn’t mean to lose control like that,” he murmured, his tone quieter now, as if he were struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Then his eyes flicked back up to mine, widening slightly. “And... you kissed me,” he added, the words almost a whisper, his tone a mix of disbelief and wonder, as though he were just now processing the weight of the moment.
I chuckled, lowering my gaze to meet his as I reached for his hand, gently prying it away from where he’d hidden it against his face. “Relax,” I said, my tone softening. “Yeah, I kissed you. I wanted to see how you’d react—and I was right about you.” My smirk deepened, letting the words hang for a moment. “And, for the record, you’re hot as hell when you’re overwhelmed.”
As I stood over him, I watched Allan processing, the mix of embarrassment and awe flicker across his face. My chest swelled with a quiet satisfaction, knowing I’d read him perfectly. But I wasn’t done yet. There was still more to uncover.
His eyes widened, his breath catching as I guided his trembling hand, pressing it against the stretched fabric of my Speedo. His fingers brushed over the thick, unmistakable ridge of my shaft, lingering there before stroking it tentatively. I exhaled sharply, a low growl escaping as I leaned in closer.
“See?” I murmured, my voice deep and edged with raw hunger. “You’re not the only one feeling it. Let’s see where this takes us.”
He stared up at me, then nodded, the movement tentative but full of unspoken desire.
My muscles tensed with anticipation as Allan’s trembling fingers explored my throbbing erection. His eyes were wide, his breathing uneven as he glanced up at me, searching for some kind of sign. I didn’t say anything right away, just held his gaze, my smirk softening slightly into something more reassuring.
“Go on,” I murmured, my voice low and steady, as my hands settled on his slender shoulders. With a gentle nudge, I eased him back into the patio chair behind him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Allan swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he glanced up at me, his gaze flitting between my eyes and my body. Slowly, he nodded, his trembling hands moving to the waistband of my Speedo. He fumbled slightly, the knot slipping loose under his nervous touch. As the suit slid lower, my cock sprang free, heavy and throbbing, the tip already slick.
The sound of the fabric brushing my smooth skin was drowned out by the sharp intake of Allan’s breath. He froze, his lips parting as his gaze locked onto me. The moment seemed to stretch, the faint rustling of the leaves the only sound between us.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “You’re... stunning.”
A slow smirk spread across my face as I looked down at him, his awe sparking a familiar thrill in my chest. “Easier to appreciate up close,” I teased, my hands resting on his shoulders as my hips swayed. My cock slapped against his cheek with a soft, wet sound, and I felt him shudder beneath my touch. “Go ahead, Allan.”
His lips parted wider, and for a moment, he seemed completely frozen, his breath hot against my skin. The heat of the sun kissed my shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from Allan’s face as his cheeks flushed deep pink.
“I...” He trailed off, his hand hovering midair as though uncertain whether to touch me or simply keep staring. His breathing quickened, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven bursts.
I reached down, brushing the back of his hand with mine, encouraging him. “You don’t have to be shy,” I said softly, my voice dipping even lower.
The gentle weight of my words seemed to unlock something in him. His fingers trembled for just a moment before they moved, filled with intent, tracing along the base of my shaft. His touch sent a shiver up my spine, and I couldn’t help but let out a quiet, approving grunt. “That’s it,” I rumbled. “Just like that.”
His blush deepened as he reached out, eagerly wrapping around my length. A gasp escaped his lips as he stroked me slowly, his grip firm as he adjusted to the sheer size of me. “You’re... even bigger than I imagined,” he said, almost to himself, his voice tinged with awe.
“Good genetics,” I said, smirking as I watched him, my chest rising and falling steadily. Hope you can handle this.”
Allan looked up at me, his eyes wide but determined, and I saw the moment he made up his mind. Leaning forward, he parted his lips, his breath warm against me. Then, guided by some unspoken instinct, he took me into his mouth.
The first touch was electric, a jolt of pleasure shooting through me as his lips locked on to me. He started slow, his movements unsure but eager. “That’s it,” I murmured, my hand resting on the back of his head. “Here we go.”
As he grew bolder, his tongue traced along my length, his head bobbing as he took me deeper. I let out a low groan, my fingers threading through his hair, guiding him. My mind raced, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the sheer novelty of the moment.
So this is what it feels like, I thought, my chest tightening with a mix of arousal and satisfaction. The way he had worshiped me earlier, his touch reverent and filled with awe, lingered in my mind. But now, as he yielded to me completely, his desire laid bare in every movement, I felt something deeper. He wasn’t just following instinct—he was embracing the pull, letting himself be guided by the connection building between us. The way his smaller frame seemed to fold into the moment, giving in without hesitation, sent a thrill through me that I hadn’t anticipated.
“You’re doing great, Allan,” I said, my voice rough with arousal.
His eyes flicked up to mine, his cheeks hollowing as he worked me deeper, the desperation to please clear in every movement. The sight of him—flushed, eager, utterly consumed by the moment—pushed me closer to the edge. My hips lifted slightly, and he adjusted without hesitation, taking me deeper still.
As I pushed deeper, Allan gagged softly, the sound mingling with the wet slickness of his effort. The tight heat of his throat surrounded me, each inch sending a jolt of pleasure through my body that left me shuddering. Saliva glistened as it dripped from his chin, a testament to his unrelenting hunger, his determination only fueling the fire coursing through me. A low, guttural moan tore from my throat as I plunged deeper, my voice thick with lust.
As I bottomed out, he gagged softly, the sound mingling with the wet slickness of his effort. Saliva glistened as it dripped from his chin, a testament to his unrelenting hunger. A low, guttural moan escaped me, my voice thick with lust. “You’re a natural,” I praised, my tone raw and genuine.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide but determined, the spark of his desire unmistakable. He didn’t pull away or hesitate—instead, he leaned in hungrily, taking me deeper, his eagerness igniting something primal within me. The intensity of his submission, the way he craved every inch of me, sent a surge of power through my veins.
The need for release built rapidly, a fire spreading through my body as I tightened my grip on his hair. The silky strands twisted between my fingers as I guided him with a steady rhythm, each pull of his lips drawing me closer to the edge. My breath grew ragged, my chest heaving as the heat inside me surged uncontrollably.
“Allan,” I groaned, my voice low and thick, the warning unmistakable. “You’d better be ready.” The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation, as I watched him double down, his movements growing even more fervent. The fire in my veins roared as I let myself get lost in the moment, pushing us both toward the inevitable.
His response was immediate, a lustful hum that sent vibrations coursing through me, unleashing a need I could no longer hold back. My body tensed, a sharp gasp escaping as I came in an overwhelming rush, the release flooding from me with a force that left me trembling. Allan didn’t pull back. He leaned in, swallowing greedily, his lips sealing around me as though he didn’t want to miss a single drop. His movements slowed, deliberate and hungry, as he milked me for every last surge.
When I finally leaned back, my chest was heaving as I fought to catch my breath, I glanced down to find a bead of my release still glistening on his chin, catching the light like a forbidden trophy. The sight stirred something raw and electric within me, reigniting my smirk. “That was fucking hot, Allan,” I said, my voice still slightly ragged, as I reached out to trace the line of his jaw with my finger. “But you missed some.”
Before he could react, I brought my finger to his lips, holding his gaze as I slid it inside. His lips parted instinctively, his tongue tracing over me with surprising eagerness. A low, rumbling chuckle escaped me, a surge of power coursing through me as I watched the hunger in Allan’s eyes, his desire for me undeniable.
Pulling back, I grabbed my shorts from the chair and slipped them on, the tension in my body replaced with a heady sense of satisfaction. As I stood, I glanced back at Allan, still perched on the edge of the chair. His cheeks were flushed, his breath shaky, and his gaze lingered on me, unsteady yet unmistakably drawn.
I stepped toward him, closing the small distance between us. Gently, I reached for his hand, pulling him up from the chair. His movements were slow, like he was still processing everything. When his eyes finally met mine, they were wide, hazy, and unsure. “You had fun, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice low but steady.
Allan blinked, his lips parting as if he wasn’t sure how to respond, but then he nodded, almost shyly. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I did.”
Resting my hands lightly on his shoulders, I held his gaze, my tone softening further. “So did I,” I said, grinning at my new acquaintance. “Don’t overthink this, Allan. You don’t need to get in your head about it.”
He swallowed hard, his breath still uneven, but he nodded again, a faint, dazed smile creeping onto his face. I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We should do this again sometime,” I added, my tone playful, leaving the suggestion hanging between us.
As I stepped back, I watched him for a moment, his expression still a mix of awe and uncertainty. Turning toward the gate, I felt his gaze on me, as though he was trying to hold onto the moment. The thought brought a smirk back to my face as I pushed the gate open and stepped into the fading sunlight, leaving him with his thoughts—and the memory of the intense afternoon we’d just shared.
