Demarco held up a finger as if to say... just a moment please... and then took Jack back into his mouth. Again, he went down slowly, using his fingers to pry open both of Jack's flies as his lips contoured the thick shaft going down, forcing Jack's head to slip past his tongue and curve deep into his relaxed throat... and then he continued farther, through the window and beyond the fabric there, all the way until his nose and lips pressed into the musky scented thatch of Jack's groin. He came back up even slower, letting Jack's engorged and swelling member drag on his soft wet tongue until his lips closed tightly at the base of the head. Jack's fists were now clawing the mattress.
So, Demarco began the slow descent again. This time, halfway down, Jack's breath caught and his fists hammered the mattress as he exploded in Demarco's mouth. Demarco pressed Jack's now elevated hips back down, continuing the motion, allowing the sweet and salty discharge to slip deliciously down his throat while Jack's spasming member danced electrically on his tongue.
"Oh, my God. You're killing me."
Demarco did not let up. He held Jack deep in his throat while his tremors gradually subsided. When he lay still, panting, Demarco came back up, sucking slightly to remove any residual spillage. He let Jack's semi-soft penis fall from his mouth and crawled up beside him.
"I—" Jack began. "I don't know what to say."
Demarco's chin was on his shoulder. "Don't say anything," he whispered, stroking Jack's chest, beneath his scrunched-up t-shirt. "Relax."
"I wanted to... pleaseyou. I didn't want to be—"
"Serviced? You're not a trick, Jack. I don't enjoy things that way with a trick. So just... relax."
"But—"
"No, buts. Kiss me."
He did and his tension dissipated.
"I want to tell you something," Demarco whispered, his voice a soft purr. "That washot...so fucking hot I'm a little lightheaded myself."
Demarco's hand stroked down Jack's chest to his treasure trail. Jack was still... silent.
"The majority of these jerks I'm with want one thing," Demarco said, his hand traveling farther down to Jack's stirring member. "They may be tough on America's stage, bullying other people... other countries... but when they get behind closed doors, all they want is to throw their legs up on the shoulders of some hot Mandingo and get their swirl on. You feel me?"
Jack grinned. "I think you're feeling me."
"I told you... only a matter of minutes."
"I think what you're saying is—you want me to help you... uh,get your swirl on?"
Demarco felt Jack's cock stiffening in his grip and he gave it a good squeeze.
"Mr. Secret Serviceman, I need your help. You see, I found this gun and I need someplace safe to put it."
11
Demarco sat at the small kitchenette table, picking at the remnants of their room service meal. He was wearing one of the hotel-provided terry-cloth robes and he was watching Jack, clad in boxers only, sitting at the foot of the bed.
"Surely you've got more than that."
He was on the phone... and Demarco was hearing only half of the conversation. He studied how the lines on Jack's forehead deepened with concentration, seeing the beginning of crow's-feet at his temples. His back was as smooth and broad as his chest, rippling with muscles that recessed into a slight crevice descending between his shoulder blades and eventually flattening at his lower torso—not fresh, hard muscle... but still defined, only softer with age. He sat hunched, primitive, barking into his cell phone.
"No," he said. "I don't care."
Demarco let the fork rest on his plate and took a sip of coffee. His eyes dipped to Jack's legs, thick and long... big bare feet planted into the Dupont's outdated carpet, like the base and roots of tree trunks. His mind drifted back to their actions less than an hour earlier, and he imagined what those powerful legs had looked like when flexed and mounting... he shuddered, dismissing the reverie.
"OK. I appreciate it," His tone was light now, almost playful. "I bet you do."
Demarco perked slightly at the sound of Jack's abrupt tonal shift.
"You do that. I'll be in touch." Jack placed his phone down on the tangled sheets.
"Good news?"
"No." He frowned. "You couldn't tell?"
