“There’s nothing I want more than to see your perfect mouth stuffed with my cock.”
He leaned forward and enveloped the head of my length with his pink lips, his wet tongue sliding against me, making me tense. Slowly but surely, over the course of several minutes, he managed to slide my entire shaft into his mouth. Even though he was only able to suck the entire thing for a few seconds before slipping it out and taking some heavy breaths, I watched in awe.
“I think,” he began, using one hand to wipe his mouth while the other stroked my rigid cock, “I don’t mind being called degrading names as long as you also praise me.”
“So you would like to be called a pretty slut?” I asked.
He nodded.
“What about…” I cast my mind for ideas, but it was a bit difficult to properly concentrate when I had a gorgeous man lying between my legs, jacking my dick, his lips wet with spit from when he sucked me down to the base. “What if I called you a good slut?”
Once again, he nodded, eyes dark with desire. “I like it when you tell me I’m good. When you say I’m doing a good job.”
“You did a perfect job sucking me,” I told him. “You’re such a good whore.”
He ducked his head, and my stomach dropped. Was that word not allowed?
“Sorry, should I have not said —”
He shook his head and raised his head, revealing a small smile.
“No, I like it. I think I’ll like anything you say, Winnie, as long as you’re complimenting me.”
I reached for him, hand holding the side of his face, and he nuzzled into my palm like a pet. To him, I probably seemed more confident than I was. I was confident most of the time, but I didn’t want to accidentally screw things up and scare Leo off and ruin sex for him, not when it was so new to him.
I lowered my hand, once again brushing my thumb over his lips. Obediently, he let me push my thumb into his mouth and flickered his tongue against it, which sent a shot of pulsing pleasure all the way to my balls.
“Show me how good you are at sucking cock,” I told him.
And so he did, and just as I was about to reach the peak, he slipped his mouth off me and started kissing my inner thighs.
“I want you to fuck me tonight,” he said, so quietly, for a second I thought I’d misheard him.
“Tonight?” I asked.
He nodded.
We’d talked about it, of course. Leo had admitted to me, eyes firmly on his lap, that he’d experimented with fingering himself, which made me instantly hard and start to take his clothes off. I’d rimmed him and fingered him, only using one digit at the beginning to get him used to it. Not everyone enjoyed it — I didn’t — but thankfully, Leo loved it. The last time we’d done it, it had been at my place, and he’d been on his hands andknees, face buried into a pillow as his entire body trembled as I massaged the sensitive special spot inside of him.
“I’ve been imagining it for ages,” he said. He tilted his chin up — boldly, even defiantly. “I’ve imagined it since that very first night we met, the night you told me you were a top.”
“You mean the night you asked me ‘top of what?’”
He covered his face with his hands. “Don’t,” he whined.
“Sorry,” I said, stifling a laugh. I yanked him back up so he was face to face with me and kissed his knuckles until he uncovered his face. “It was adorable. You’re adorable. And,” I lowered my voice, “I want to fuck you tonight too.”
“Really?”
I grinned. “I’ve jerked off to the thought of burrowing myself inside you.”
Leo stared at me, lips parted, mouth so wide, I could’ve slid a finger in if I wanted. Before I could do anything, though, he leaned over me. For a second, all I could see was skin, faded freckles, and a dusting of blond hair. A drawer in the bedside table let out a squeak, and he rifled around in it, then pushed a box of condoms and an unopened tube of lubricant into my hand.
He really wanted this, and he wanted it right then. I pushed myself onto my knees, and without wasting any time, Leo spread out his legs and lay them on either side of me.
“You want to do it like this, with you on your back?” I asked.
He nodded, reaching down to stroke himself. I watched for a moment. He wasn’t putting on a show — his hand was slow and gentle, he was silent, not making any exaggerated noises, and his expression was almost blank, except for the tiniest hint of tightness around his jaw — but it was perfect, and real, and I knew that any lingering shyness or shame had evaporated in that moment.
