And, a big part of that is Baylor Mann.
He’s the option that matters.
I don’t feel alone, as if I only exist in the grey light of a tour bus eating up roadway on an endless loop. Baylor anchors me, like he does all his brothers, all the people who are lucky enough to have him in their lives.
Moving my body up on his, I keep my weight off any parts of his body that might pull on his shoulder, and I kiss him hard. With the slight press of my tongue, he opens for me, always willing to give me what I want.
I dive into it, the need to devour and be devoured is a writhing thing inside my chest. Like the ouroboros I am infinite in my desire for Baylor Mann. He consumes me just as I want to consume him.
“Fuck,” he moans against my mouth, “going to get hurt more often so I can get doctor clearance.”
I pull back, frowning at his hooded eyes.“PT starts today. You ready?”
Baylor gives me a heated smile, pulling my face back to his, “Maybe not yet.”
We found out after the accident that there was also a muscle tear in his upper arm, and recovery has been slow.
I kiss him until we are breathless and starting to rock against each other, getting skin on skin. His hand is full of my ass, squeezing it and spreading it with each handful.
Dragging my lips from his, I move down, leaving small kisses in my wake.
As much as I love his body, there is no place I would rather be than with my head between his thick, furry thighs, and that’s right where I am headed.
We’ve been careful this past month. But, yesterday we got the greenest of green lights from his treatment team and I plan to edge him until his body shakes.
My nose runs up his thigh, too close to the skin for his hair to tickle.
“Cas,” he hisses when my lips give his balls a quick good-morning kiss.
Baylor has a great dick, don’t get me wrong, but he may have the most perfect set of balls I have ever seen. I have heard guys wax poetic about dick, but rarely mention large, low-hanging, full testicles. For whatever reason that my brain gets turned on about shit, it gets turned on about Baylor’s sac. Hell, my whole body feels electric when I get to play with the tight, wrinkled skin or when I mouth one ball. The weight of them in my mouth feels as good as his cock, and the musky, manly Baylor-scent drives me crazy.
As I lick and suck, taking the time we have this morning to let my appreciation show, Baylor’s thighs flex on each side of my head.
I love this, too. In this position, the more turned on he gets means the tighter those thighs will be. I moan, moving up enough to get his cock in my mouth.
Christ, I’m too turned on. The idea of Baylor’s big sac plopping over my face while his thighs hold my head in place sends a rush of pure want through me so hard, it makes itself known in a gush of pre-come.
I work him over, pulling out all the tricks, deep throating and hollowing my cheeks to get more purchase.
His hand smooths my hair, and eyes hooded but still looking at me with such love, I give him more. Until his lips part and his chest rises sharply with the need to pull in oxygen.
He moves his hand to my cheek, cupping it in a gesture that is intimate as hell, and might seem at odds with my lips wrapped around his cock. But, it’s not. This isn’t some bathroom hook up.
It’s me and Baylor.
And my moan when he grunt-sighs his release into my mouth isn’t performative.
It’s appreciative.
I dive from his cock to his ass so fast he hisses with the sensitivity of me burying my face in his balls. Thick muscle tenses, cradling both sides of my face as I stroke myself.
“Come on me,” he demands/orders.
I stay right where I am for a few more strokes, taking myself right to the edge.
I continue to kiss his skin as I move up to lean over him, cock in hand, and lay my release on his abs.
Waves of pleasure rock me and I slump back down, his thigh my new pillow as I turn my face inward, my hand reaching up, rubbing my release into his skin.
