I whipped a sock around his throat and held it tight as I covered him with my body, growling, “One word and I’ll break your neck.”
I could hear police chatter on a radio. Shit. Someone must’ve thought they saw something and called them. Shit, shit, shit. I knew it was going too damn well. And while the window was pretty much hidden by the trash and filth, someone could still see in if they tried. A flashlight beam shot through to search the place and someone rattled the knob of the side door, but it had locked when I kicked it shut. One of the great things about British doors is they normally do that when closed; that was probably why it’d been left open — so the contractor’s guys could get in without a key.
“You sure it was down ‘ere?” said one man’s voice.
“Yeah,” replied another.
“But that don’t fit what Reg said, and this door’s tight. Should we break in?”
My guy started to shift and groan but I only held him tighter and glared into his eyes. He began to shiver.
“Call Boss. See what he says.”
“The mood ‘e’s in? Fook that. Maybe Reg did make it down the ASDA. There’s a walkway leads to it.”
“Right, better get on it. Bugger, I’d ‘ate to be him, right now.”
“‘Is idear, wan’nit?”
My guy shook his head. He knew they were leaving. And sure enough, the car drove off. He began to shake.
I loosened the sock and smoothed my hand over his head, tickling my fingers through his hair. “See? We’re okay, now.”
He just kept shaking his head.
Man, I loved just lying there with him. Feeling his breath entering and leaving him. Accepting the warmth of him. I ran my hands over his shoulders and across his chest and down his abs, wishing he was doing the same to me as I whispered, “I mean it. Really. You got no reason to be scared of me.”
He was fighting to keep control. His eyes were slammed closed, his face trapped in a tight frown.
It hurt me to see him like that so I made myself sit up and whisper, “You think I’m gonna fuck you, don’t you?”
He looked at me, unable to do anything more.
“I’m not. I don’t want to.” I shifted to make certain my naked ass was on his crotch. “I want you to fuck me.”
That made him blink and for good reason. First off, what kind of rapist wants his target to fuck him instead of the other way around? Second, he was nowhere near thinking about getting hard enough to even consider the possibility of jacking off let alone pushing into a man’s hole. And truth is ... it’s a crazy thing to say to guys like this. But that’s why I say it. That shifts their focus away from their virgin ass and onto my anything but virgin one and they begin to think, Maybe this won’t be so bad if I can just get myself hard enough for a minute.
Of course, it was just a line of bullshit. Oh, I’m not averse to being fucked by the right guy — especially if it’s one I’ve spent weeks cultivating — but I love fucking men and my dick was going inside this guy, and soon. But to get to that point without having to fight, non-stop, this bit of subterfuge works wonders.
Besides, I also love sucking dick.
I pulled the rest of the t-shirt away from his neck to reveal good clean muscles, not overdone but just right and pumped and ready to fight if given the chance. They electrified me at how elegant they were, even with the bit of a Celtic design I could see that was tattooed around his right one. I let my fingers drift over it and the smoothness of his skin was heart-stopping. He jolted but still stayed in the same position. Then I noticed rough patches under the ink. I let my fingers follow the roughness.
His breathing grew more shallow but he didn’t struggle. Not even as I shifted him onto his left side so I could pull the hoodie up out of the way and tear the shirt completely off to get a better view of the tattoo. It extended across his shoulder and down part of his back, keeping its distance from the Japanese characters. Rough scars alternated with its smoothness.
“You’ve been hurt,” I whispered. “Motorcycle accident? Hit by a car? Fall off a bus?”
He just kept fighting for control.
I lay him back down and ran my fingers around the back of his head and into his hair. I felt the little scars I’d noticed in his scalp. Small and uneven. Like little bits of metal or rocks had torn into him.
“Were you caught in an explosion?”
He wouldn’t even look at me.
It usually makes me angry when a conquest won’t even try to respond to my questions. I’ll start growling and get rough. But this time? I just sat up and let my fingers whisper down his neck and over his shoulder and into the soft hair on his pecs to toy with his nips. Caress them. Flick them. Give myself time to think. To wonder what he’d been through. Wonder what sort of trauma he’d experienced. Could he be a soldier home on leave? Or was he caught in one of London’s terrorist bombings? Something I couldn’t even think of?
The thoughts confused me. But I loved the sensation of his light hairs on my fingertips. Felt joy at the quivers of his skin as I caressed his sides. My heart was so light it seemed ready to float away. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe.
I was losing focus ... wanted to just stay there like that and touch him for hours ... days ... months. I finally had to make myself regroup and unbuckle his belt.
He squirmed and shifted under me, more by reflex than anything, and that set my dick to raging, again. I drew my hands down his belly. Fire exploded through me as they drifted over his skin. Shivers from his muscles added to the beauty of my caress even as I let my fingers dance through his treasure trail and across the strap of the back brace. Holy Jesus, the tender kiss of his hair was so elegant.
Then I unbuttoned his pants.
He shook his head No, over and over, and gave a soft wail but only squirmed a little.
I had to shift down his thighs to unzip him and open the fly to reveal he was wearing a pair of striped briefs. Man — I loved how its colorful lines emphasized the shape of what they contained. I could focus on that for hours but all I did was drag my fingers over the hump of his dick, enjoying how the material stretched over him so comfortable and easy, before sliding back up his honey-colored pubes and hairs and returning to barely touch his nips then flick them and let my fingers tickle around them, over and over, and whisper out to dance through the hair on his chest and down his sides and over his belly to toy with his navel and down to his pubes and up and around, again and again.
“Why do you have the back brace?” I asked, looking closer. “Accident of some kind? Work related?”
This time he looked at me and sort of nodded. That was a good sign.
I kept caressing him, giving him a chance to calm down some more. After a few minutes his nips were even a bit perky. That’s when I guided the pants down his hips and pulled them under his ass and along his thighs to his knees and oh-my-God his legs — light hair swirling up them as if to emphasize their perfect shape. His briefs were worn but not in bad shape and obviously he wasn’t hard, but just as obviously his balls were fat and in desperate need of a milking.
Well that was about to be remedied.
I stopped to gaze upon him for a moment ... and take more photos with my phone ... then began groping him to get the feel of him. The first touch is always the best because this is when you find out the heft of his balls. So I rolled them with my fingers. And rolled them. Loved how oval they were. Even through the taut cotton they felt fat and alive and wonderful — and what’s better? My tender non-stop caress was making his dick respond. I could feel his shaft just beginning to thicken and extend itself along the line of the briefs, drifting to the left, so I traced the length of it while still fondling his balls and whispering around them and back up to his dick and back down, over and over and over, loving how the cotton felt like a second skin on him until I stopped thinking and just tore them open at his left hip, making him cry out and try to jolt away.
What I now saw was smooth creamy white skin between the gentlest of Speedo-like tan lines as the briefs floated back into place to cover most of his balls and part of his shaft. I forgot to breathe, again. It wasn’t till I leaned down and kissed that creamy white skin that I could draw breath. I’d never felt like this, not once, not even with the men I’d cultivated into bed, building anticipation to the breaking point before gaining access to their hidden treasures. He’d become my beginning and end. My alpha and omega. The universe in one and I was no longer in control of myself.
I lifted the torn material away to get a good look at what I had to work with. It wasn’t the biggest cock I’d ever seen — and the one drawback was he wasn’t cut; I prefer guys who look like me. But I was right to figure it wouldn’t matter because the way his dick lay across his groin, his balls bouncing around just below it, his honey-colored pubes framing everything and fanning out so beautifully — it was eroticism defined.
He tensed and froze as I played with his foreskin, ignoring his grimaces and how tight his muscles got as I slowly pulled it back ... back ... back to reveal he was clean and had a lovely head. He’d have made a perfect helmet instead of this anteater.
His stomach quivered as I drew my fingers down the length of him then let them drift around his balls and along his inner thighs, and I leaned in close to whisper, “I want you to get hard then I’ll ride you. That really is all I want. I want to be able to say I was fucked by someone as beautiful as you. And when you cum I’ll be done. But I want you to cum in me. You understand? I want you to fuck me and cum in me.” It took him a moment but he nodded. “Can you do it?” He took in a deep breath and sort of grimaced a Yes.
Of course I was still lying, but by this point even if he didn’t believe me he knew he had no choice if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of keeping his ass virginal. So he lay back and closed his eyes.
This was part of the deal — getting him to fire his wad. I don’t do it out of any sense of obligation; like I said, I love blowjobs. Giving. Receiving. To me they’re more intimate than fucking. You’ve got your teeth next to him and your tongue caressing him and your lips sliding along him and your breath exploding the nerves in his head with your fingers to help bring things along. And you could tell when to hold back and drive him crazy with a need to bust his nut. Fucking is great and I love that, too, but to truly control a guy give him a blow job; that’ll show him exactly who’s the boss.
Only something funny hit me as I nuzzled his pubes in preparation; I wanted to impress him. Wanted him to know how good I was at this. So I huffed my hot breath onto them then licked his shaft like he was the tastiest of lollipops. I sucked on his balls, soft, careful, tickling them with my tongue and letting them slide in and out of my mouth. Jesus, he tasted so damn sweet. My fingers toyed with his nips and caressed his sides and across the hair on his belly and all over his thighs, and I kept my own dick out of the way as much as I could so the reality of it wouldn’t intrude on him. I put everything I had into pleasing him — and after a few minutes he began to grow.
And grow.
And grow.
His foreskin all but vanished as his shaft thickened and expanded. He wound up long and sloped and so perfectly shaped he could have been used to illustrate what the male penis should look like, erect. I couldn’t help but circle him with my lips and ring him with my tongue and take all of him in my mouth.
I worked him steady for the next few minutes. Up and down, my hands exploring him, my tongue swirling around him, soft and easy then faster and harder and more intent and on and on and on, nonstop. I didn’t forget his balls or nips, either, pulling at them and massaging them, left then right then left then right. I went for the whole package, planning to make him scream for me to let him shoot. The beast in me growled and snapped, loved how he felt as my dick and balls bounced between his thighs, making me harder and more sensitive. It was perfection.
Despite himself he got harder and harder and began to squirm and clench his ass and groan from the overwhelming sensation of it all and buck into my mouth. Sooner than I’m sure he thought possible — hell, even than I thought possible — he was close to letting go.
So I pulled back.
Which confused me. Normally I let the guy fire his load and then say, “Fine buddy, you don’t wanna cum inside me? I’ll cum inside you.” Then I flip him over and fuck him, telling him the whole time this was really what he wanted. That messes with them, massively.
But this time — something about this time — I don’t know why but I gave him a chance to hold back his ejaculation. Let him calm down a little before I pulled out the Vaseline and slathered it over his dick, slow and tender and vicious in my playfulness, making him hard as a rock again, then smoothed some into my hole — good and deep, with two fingers — and knelt across his hips to straddle his crotch and sat back and ... and with the feel of his solid dick lying up over his belly, his balls tight and pushing against my own scrotum, need took over and I held him in place with my knees and positioned his dick against my hole and sat back and let him slide in, slow and soft and easy and so fucking exquisite, holy fucking shit, it was like he was built to be part of me.
And I wanted to stay like that forever.
Shit, me doing that was a first. But with this guy — even if I had wanted to stop myself I couldn’t; I was out of control.
So there I sat for a moment, savoring the fullness of him in me. Unbelievable beauty and emotion whispered up in me like an uncharted world. I almost laughed at how right it felt. Then I clenched him tight. Pulled at him. Rocked up and down on him. Did everything I could to feel every inch of him. Worked his nips. Bent down to kiss his face. Ran my hands along his sides and hips. Rubbed my balls against his pubes as much as I could. Every movement sent screaming lightning into every corner of my body. I touched my own nips and fire enveloped me. I ran my hands down my own thighs and came close to madness from the intensity of it. I never wanted it to end but to keep on and on and on ...
But then he began to breathe faster and groan and his tits grew hard under the play of my fingers and his moans shorter and sharper and he growled and grunted and pushed himself into me, deeper and deeper and faster and faster and harder and harder and I rode him tighter and meaner and used every muscle I had in my ass to pull at him and roll him around in me as I caressed my own nips and thighs and humped him faster and faster until he grunted and bucked and —
He fired into me.
I felt him shoot into me.
Son-of-a-bitch, I felt him.
His first shot was sharp and full and made me gasp at how strong it was. I kept working him and working him, tighter and tighter, draining him until he was whimpering and trying to twist away and I started to lie down on him, my brain a blank, but my dick was so needy and ready and primed just that hint of brushing it along the hair on his belly made me jolt up and explode. I didn’t even need to touch myself with my own hands; my orgasm was spontaneous and mind-blowing and screaming through me as my cum shot over his chest and onto his face, over and over, and I cried out and I couldn’t stop it and in seconds I was shivering and groaning and I ... I seriously think I went crazy for a moment.
When I finally finished, I wilted down to lay my chest against his, my ass still gripping his softening dick. My right cheek pressed against the stickiness on his right cheek. I couldn’t move, it was so beautiful. I hadn’t cum like that in years. Hell, maybe ever. There was not one fiber of my being that didn’t tingle. My hands trembled. Even my breath was ragged. I was too weak to move; all I could do was close my eyes and whimper and hold him tight against me.
