I searched through my brain. It wasn’t cold enough to be an ice cube. Then, surprising me, a plop of whatever it was landed right above my cock, sending a shock through my system that I felt deep at my base.
“Sweet Peyton,” Jet said, swirling his fist around my cock. Soft drops of something landed on my shaft, and then Jet licked my abs again, then my cock. “Sweet, sweet Peyton…”
It clicked.
“Wait, wait,” I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Whipped cream and cherries?”
The blindfold went flying, and light flooded my senses. “Ding, ding, ding,” Jet laughed. “We have a winner.”
I blinked. He was there on his knees, hovering over me with a bowl of whipped cream and cherries in one hand. My torso was covered in the sticky, melty whipped cream, and there were cherries planted in it, marching a meandering line down to my cock. Drizzles of white cream leaked down Jet’s pecs and his hard abs, decorating his body, dripping to his thighs.
He’d remembered. This was the one thing I’d tried with my first girlfriend, the idea she had shamed me for. I’d convinced myself that she was right, it actually was embarrassing and not at all sexy, but now my body was vibrating with anticipation, and Jet looked fucking sexy, dripping with cream.
Now, somehow, it was perfect.
He popped a cherry in his mouth, then rolled it on his tongue while he gripped his straining hard cock. “What do you think?” he asked.
I grinned. “Come here and lick this whipped cream off my cock.”
* * *
JET
It didn’t take long to get from untying the blindfold to slamming my body against Peyton’s, grabbing him and kissing him in a messy mix of sweat, saliva, and whipped cream. Like every time we touched, I was instantly ravenous, and I had to battle down my urges to make it last.
But I did make it last. For a good hour, we ate whipped cream off each other and sucked each other. I learned how fun it was to torture his nipples, and when I got down to suck his cock, Peyton rubbed his prostate from the outside. We found a rhythm, something familiar to ride through all the rest of it.
We came blowing each other, sprawled across the bed in a sixty-nine, him pumping my cock with his fists and me massaging deep against his prostate. Peyton’s entire body vibrated, which jolted pleasure from the core of me, and we both lay there panting for a minute once we finished.
I crawled across the bed, slid behind him, then pulled him close. “Peyton,” I growled in his ear, rubbing his hairy, broad chest.
He trembled. “Thank you for that,” he said, breathy. “For remembering and giving me a good memory to put on the bad one. Thanks.”
“Like a cherry on top,” I growled in his ear.
Peyton laughed. “You’re going to need to do your laundry.”
I chuckled. “I doubled up with old sheets before you came over.” It felt good holding him there so I squeezed a little tighter. Without thinking, I shot out the next thought that came to mind. “I’ve got a clean set ready, no whipped creamorcum stains. If you want to sleep over.”
A second passed, and I kicked myself. Was Peyton going to take that the wrong way? Think I was disrespecting Noah by asking or maybe that I was needy, lonely?
Was he going to think I was blurring the lines between us, and why did I suddenly really, really want to blur those lines more?
“I guess there’s no reason I can’t spend the night,” Peyton answered. He let out a rough breath and settled back, relaxing into me further. “If you’re inviting me.”
I rubbed his arm, deeply rewarded by this turn. “Good,” I told him.
After a minute of just lying there, hot and breathy together, I finally pulled myself away. I jumped in the bathroom, then got us some water and damp towels, pausing just enough to switch the mix to something easy and slow. When I got back, Peyton was standing there, naked and with his cock still half-hard, stripping the sheets off the bed.
“Peyton, you don’t have to do that. Let me.”
He smiled as he took a towel from me. “Your place is so tidy. Let me help.”
I stared at him, then laughed. “It’s usually a mess. I just clean it when you’re coming over,” I confessed.
Peyton smiled. “Really?” He rubbed the towel up his belly, swiping away the dried cream that I’d mainly licked off. “I kind of like seeing your work spread out. Makes me think of how you spent your day. You don’t have to clean for my sake.”
“I know,” I grunted, thrown off by how much I liked hearing him say that. I stepped forward to wipe a little cream off his thigh, then squatted. I took in a deep inhale of his scent while I was down there, musky with sex. “And, you’re welcome.”
