I whine again. A long, mournful sound that seems to come from the Earth’s belly. I do as he says without question, mouth still open, eyes trained on the head of his thick, glistening cock. He reaches into my mouth, four fingers press down on my bottom teeth, opening my mouth so wide it stings at the corners. He runs his fingers through my hair, knotting them tightly and tilting my head back. “Relax your throat, baby.”
I lose focus.
Reason.
Reality.
All those things blur out.
The only thing real now is the flavor and the feel of Stuart’s blunt cockhead scraping across my tongue and hitting the back of my throat. I grunt and gag, but I don’t struggle. I stay still. Open. Willing. Wanting anything, everything, he has to give me. Wanting it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. He slides his dick in and out of my mouth until my throat burns and my eyes water.
I’ve always loved giving head. I love it. I do. I have a major thing for it. The people pleaser in me loves the feeling of doing something that feels good for someone else. It makes me feel powerful to make a guy feel so good with nothing but my lips and my tongue. This time is different. This is the first time I’ve done it where it feels like something is being done to me instead of by me.
Turns out I have a major thing for that too.
I grunt and gag louder and louder until the sounds I’m making are obscene. I scramble frantically at my knees, fighting the uncontrollable urge to grab hold of my dick and jerk the ever-living fuck out of it.
“Oh, baby,” he says sympathetically. “You’re such a horny boy, aren’t you?” I nod dumbly and beg for more with my eyes as his dick forces hollowggguk-ggguksounds out of me. He runs his fingers gently down the side of my face. He takes mercy on me at last. “Stroke it.”
And holy hell, do I ever.
No one’s ever obeyed with more gusto. I wrap my hand around my base and squeeze hard, flinching and garbling nonsensically as he keeps fucking my throat. Thick waves of pleasure shoot up my cock, radiating in big concentric rings through every part of my body as I slide my fist up and down my shaft so hard and fast my forearm starts to shake.
“Elliot!” he groans. “Start swallowing. I’m there.”
And I do. I swallow and throb. I pulse. I beat. Then I break. Pleasure erupts out of me and into me at almost the same time. I swallow spurt after spurt of Stuart’s load as my own sprays on the floor. It goes on and on. Longer and harder than anything I’ve ever felt. His knees buckle when I’ve sucked the last of his pleasure out of him. He staggers backward and drops onto the sofa.
I trail after him on my hands and knees. He tucks himself back into his jeans, shimmying his hips off the sofa as he zips up. I don’t bother. I stay on the floor, hanging loose and resting my cheek against one of his knees as my dick softens. He runs his fingers through my hair absently and sighs softly.
We stay like that for a long time. Such a long time that things come back into focus. The lines of the sofa stop looking cloudy and the late morning sun lights the living room in long, angular rays. Glossy leaves shine as it hits them. So do the splashes of semen I’ve painted all over the floor. I should feel sated. I should feel wrung out and relieved, and I do, but I’ve always been greedy, and what’s happened in this room has only confirmed one thing for me.
I want Stuart Wiseman more than I want air.
“Daddy,” I whisper, “do you care if I live or die?”
“Huh?” One side of his mouth lilts up and his eyes are a confused question. “Of course I do! You’re my boy. Your well-being is of paramount imp—”
“Are you sure?” I don’t give him time to respond. “Because if you care at all, you should know I’m gonna die if you don’t fuck me soon.” His lips turn up in a tired smile, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am. I swear. I’m going to keel over and drop dead. My heart’s going to stop. I can already feel my life force weakening. I’m scared, Daddy. I’m too young to die.”
He shakes his head, but the lines around his eyes crease deeply. “You’re lucky I can’t move, boy, or I’d spank you bright red for that kind of talk.”
That does less than nothing to deter me. “It won’t be a big deal. It will just be a fuck between a Daddy and a boy. Just a dick in a hole. I won’t get attached, I promise. Sex is just sex to me. It’s not a whole emotional thing. That’s not how I’m wired. It won’t change anything between us. This will still be a Daddy arrangement, nothing more.”
“Just scratching an itch, huh?”
See? Heisa mind reader.
And he’s perfect.
I worry the inner seam of his jeans with my finger, flicking my nail back and forth along the stitching and then following it up his leg. He shifts in his seat, so I do it again.
“Is that a yes?” I ask hopefully, looking up at him and batting my lashes. “Please, Daddy,please. I’ll be good. I’ll let you do whatever you want. I’ll hold still, and I won’t complain. I promise.”
“Fuck,” he wheezes and laughs at the same time. “Fine. I’ll do it, but stop with that kind of talk, or you’ll putmein the ER.”
With that, I get to my feet, pull up my pants, and flop down on the sofa beside him.
“Just one thing,” I say lightly. “It’s not a big deal or anything. I probably wouldn’t even mention it, but I know what you’re like about communication, so I guess you should know that I’ve never had my butt fucked before.”
