It’s almost impossible to see the scrawny kid with the bad complexion from a few years ago.The man in front of me has broad shoulders, big arms, a torso that’s defined—and the little fuck is still skinny enough to have abs popping out.He’s got a little fuzz around his nipples, more between his pecs, and a surprisingly thick trail down from his belly button.And Lord Almighty has that boy got a bush, where strands of come still glisten.
He’s also a fucking donkey.
I mean, I want to be a gentleman.I try.I really do.
But Sam Yarmark has got a third leg.It’s half-hard again, bobbing every time he moves, and I’m guessing it’s a fucking monster once it’s at full mast.
There’s also this part of me that is weirdly gratified that I called it.Skinny country boys and their dicks, man.It’s a real thing.
I drop my briefs, and we stand there, looking at each other.
I say, “You’re okay if I come over there?”
“Gray, I shot my load while you played with my nips.You don’t have to keep asking me.”
That gets me moving.He’s warm when I put my arms around him, and I can smell his load, now, and the slight spiciness of our bodies warming up.When we kiss again, it’s even easier this time, smoother, better.We’re almost the same height, and there’s something about how he softens in my arms, like he’s melting.Because he’s been starving, a little voice says in my head.Because he’s waited so long.Don’t let it go to your head.But itdoesgo to my head, and I want more of it, and more, and more.
He’s running his hands up and down my arms, so I flex for him, and I grin when he laughs.He touches my nipples, and then my belly.The pause, if it is one, is so brief that I might have imagined it, and then he slides his fingers down and brushes my cock.
I groan, and he freezes.“God, Sammy, don’t stop.”
He touches me again, moving more confidently this time, tracing the outline of my dick first and then wrapping his hand around it.He pumps me once, wipes his thumb across my slit, pumps me again.I feel flushed: chest, shoulders, this hectic heat radiating upward through my whole body.
And then he stops.
“Are you shitting me?”I ask.
He gives this husky little laugh I’ve never heard from him before, and he pushes me onto the bed.I bounce once, and then Sam is crawling up next to me.He bends, kisses me, kisses my chest, my shoulder, and then runs his tongue across my nipple.But he doesn’t stay long.He kisses a line down to my belly button, and then he sits back.He touches my legs, runs his fingers down the inside of my thigh, then down my calf.He wraps his hand around my ankle, and for a moment, it’s so grounding and possessive and intimate that I can’t believe someone touching my ankle can make me gulp in air, make my eyes sting.
“Come up here,” I whisper, and I pat my chest.
For a moment, confusion flickers in Sam’s face.And then uncertainty.
“We’re trying new things tonight,” I say.“Remember?”
He’s heavier than he looks, but his weight is high enough on my body that I can still breathe, and I like how solid he feels.I like—if I’m being honest with myself, which I’m not always—how it feels to have him pinning me to the bed.The monster is jutting out above me, and I stroke it a couple of times.He shivers and touches my wrist like I’m supposed to stop, but I do it a couple more times just to drive him crazy.Then, guiding him as best I can, I take him into my mouth.
He tastes clean and masculine, only a hint of musk, and of course, come.He’s too big for me to take in this position—not all the way, at least—but I do myself proud.He moans.It’s nothing I’ve ever heard before.Even those sounds he was making when we were on the sofa pale in comparison.He’s holding himself so still that I know he’s afraid of moving, so I nudge him, and slowly, he starts to thrust.It takes him a couple of tries—and a couple of close calls—before he figures out how much I can take without literally choking on his dick.Once he’s got his rhythm going, I get a hand around his shaft, the length I can’t take into my mouth, and jerk him.It’s like patting your head and rubbing your stomach—hard to do until you get a little practice, but once you do, it’s a neat trick.
Sammy buckles.It’s like his spine snaps.He grabs my arm with one hand, and he squeezes so tightly he drives his nails into my flesh.His other hand clutches the bedding.
I look up, blinking away tears from having him hammer the back of my throat.
And I know when he sees me.When he notices me looking up at him.When our eyes meet.
He moans, and his hand tightens around my arm, and he unloads down my throat.The rhythm of his body breaks up into little, jerky thrusts, and he slumps forward, knees clenching my chest, the hand that had been clutching the bedding now keeping him from crashing into me face-first.His dick slides out of my mouth.
I work a hand free, reach around, and jack myself.It only takes me a second to start shooting.Myeverythingseems to contract, and then it’s all soft, and loose, and Sam’s cheek is rubbing against mine, and the little pricks of stubble feel almost like velvet.
He makes a noise that sounds obscenely satisfied.And then he turns and kisses me twice: on the jaw, and then on the lips.None of the hardball stuff now; it’s almost like kissing a ghost.He pulls his head back, and I check him for the signs of an upcoming freak-out.He’s watching me almost as intently, and I realize he’s looking for something too.
“Okay?”I ask.
He nods.
“Want to lie down with me?”
For someone who was recently drilling down my throat, now he’s shy.But he doesn’t say no, and when I tug on his fingers, he slides onto the mattress next to me.I have enough post-nut presence of mind to pull the blanket over us, and I think, Five minutes, maybe ten, but not so long he thinks you’re suffocating him.But I’m warm, and all the knots in my body have untied themselves, and he feels good next to me.
