Chapter 13 PSL Ever After #4
Fingers hooked beneath the waistband, dragging it slow, inch by inch, baring him.
The anticipation sent a shiver through both of us—the sight of that thick, veined cock springing free, slapping heavy against his belly, flushed and leaking, begging for attention.
My breath stuttered at the size, the weight, the raw beauty of it.
Richard was a fucking beast, and all of it was for me.
“Jesus, you’re perfect,” I groaned, palm wrapping around the base, feeling the heft, the pulse beating under my hand.
The skin was so hot, velvety soft, impossibly hard beneath it, and my thumb swept over the fat, weeping crown, gathering slick to smear down the shaft.
I stroked him slow, admiring the way he flexed for me, every muscle standing out, body straining for more.
My tongue flicked out, tasting the salt, the sharp tang of him.
I licked a slow line from the base up, flattening my tongue at the head, swirling around the slit, letting the precome coat my mouth.
The taste went straight to my head—heady, addictive, so fucking male.
I spat on the tip, messy and greedy, then licked it up, savoring every drop.
“God, you’re huge,” I whispered, voice thick. “Want to feel you choke me. Want to taste you in my throat.”
His hand tangled in my hair, but I shook my head, pinning him with a warning glare. “Don’t you move. I want this slow.”
My lips parted, taking him in inch by inch, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the way his cock forced my jaw wide.
Spit ran down my chin, strings connecting us, making a mess of both of us.
I sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, then let him slide out until just the head rested on my tongue, licking and teasing, stroking the shaft with both hands.
Every time I swallowed more, his hips jolted, a desperate sound tearing from his throat.
I forced myself deeper, taking him all the way, nose buried in the wiry hair at his groin, the head bumping the back of my throat.
Tears prickled at my eyes, but I stayed there, letting him feel the squeeze, the heat, the surrender.
“Fuck, Ed—gonna lose my mind—” Richard’s voice was little more than a growl, hands fisting the sheets now, every muscle straining under my mouth.
I pulled off just long enough to spit thickly down his shaft, watching it run over my fist as I stroked him, then swallowed him down again, bobbing my head, letting drool spill everywhere.
I loved the weight of him on my tongue, the taste, the way his cock filled my mouth and throat, every vein, every ridge familiar by now.
One hand slid lower, fondling his balls, rolling them in my palm, tugging gently, licking at the soft skin before sucking one into my mouth, then the other, worshipping every inch. My spit made everything slick, every movement filthy and wet, the sounds echoing in the room.
I came up for air, smearing his cock across my face, slapping it against my cheek, loving the mess. “Could suck you all night,” I panted, eyes wild. “Want you dripping, want you shaking, want to taste you everywhere.”
Richard’s chest heaved, eyes locked on mine, face flushed and desperate. “You’re killing me.”
“That’s the idea.” My tongue dragged up the underside again, slow and reverent, worshipping the thick vein, the swollen head, sucking him in so deep I choked, loving every second of it.
My hands never stopped moving—stroking, squeezing, jerking, coaxing more precome, making him slick, shiny, ruined.
I let him slip from my mouth, just for a second, to spit down the length again, letting it dribble, then smeared it with my palm, stroking him slow, then fast, then slow again, keeping him right at the edge.
My lips pressed soft kisses to the tip, tongue flicking, teeth scraping just enough to make him jolt.
A rough hand gripped my hair, fingers threading deep at the nape of my neck, holding me right where Richard wanted me. I looked up, eyes glassy with lust, spit and precome slicking my lips, throat aching and hungry for more.
“Open wider,” he growled, voice a jagged rasp, the timbre of it vibrating all the way down to my bones. “Gonna fuck your throat, Ed. Want to see you take it. Want to watch you drool.”
Heat pooled low in my gut, a savage, aching hunger. I spread my knees on the mattress, hands braced on his thick thighs, holding myself steady. My jaw relaxed, letting my mouth hang open, tongue out—offering, daring him.
Richard’s hand tightened, the command unmistakable, and the next thrust was slow but unyielding.
The fat head of his cock stretched my lips, pushed deeper, the weight of him impossible to ignore.
The first few strokes were almost gentle—a warning, a tease—just enough for him to see the way my throat flexed to accommodate him, my eyes fluttering as I surrendered to the stretch.
“You like that, don’t you?” he rumbled, the words a promise and a threat. “Like being used. Like being owned.”
I hummed my assent, the sound muffled around his cock, vibrations making him groan.
His hips drew back, then surged forward, burying himself deeper, the head pushing past resistance, hitting the back of my throat, forcing tears to the corners of my eyes.
I swallowed, forcing myself to take him, to accept every inch, to let him feel how much I wanted this.
Saliva pooled, dripped down my chin, mixing with the slick already smeared over my lips.
The rhythm built—slow at first, measured, each thrust stretching me a little more, a little deeper.
Richard’s abs flexed under my hands, his whole body tight, coiled, muscles hard as stone as he started to fuck into my mouth for real.
“Gonna ruin you, Ed. Gonna make you forget your own name.”
His voice was thick, rough with need, and I felt the power in every movement, every snap of his hips, every shudder running through his frame.
My own cock throbbed, aching, leaking against the sheets, desperate for friction, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the moment, from the intensity of his need, the way he took and took and made me love it.
My nose was buried in the dark thatch at his base, the sharp scent of him filling my senses, making my head swim.
The slap of skin against skin echoed, wet and obscene, and I reveled in the filth, in the mess, in the way my world narrowed down to the thickness of him, the hand in my hair, the guttural noises spilling from his lips.
Every thrust forced more spit from my mouth, drool running in sticky lines down my chin and neck, matting my hair. My jaw ached, but I held on, fingers digging into his thighs, pulling him closer, urging him to give me everything.
Richard’s grip turned punishing, the blunt edge of his nails scraping my scalp. His other hand slid down, thumb pressing into my cheek, feeling the shape of himself inside me, guiding every brutal push.
“Look at you,” he gasped, voice hoarse, “taking it so good. So fucking pretty like this. Made for me.”
The praise made me shudder, made my whole body clench, the need coiling impossibly tight. I blinked up at him, eyes shining with tears, willing him to see everything I was giving, everything I wanted.
He didn’t stop. If anything, he grew rougher, pace picking up, each thrust harder, more demanding, making my vision blur, my throat raw and open and welcoming.
I gagged, the sound filthy, obscene, just fueling him on.
He spit down, watching it land on my tongue, then on his cock, using it as lube to slide in even easier, even deeper.
“Take it,” he snarled. “Take every inch. You can do it. I know you can.”
My lungs burned, but I didn’t care. I wanted the pain, the helplessness, the raw pleasure of being used like this, of being filled and stretched and worshipped in the only language we both understood. My hands squeezed his thighs, muscles jumping under my touch, his control barely holding.
He pulled out just enough for me to gasp, spit and precum slicking my lips, then slammed back in, the force of it making my whole body jerk.
My throat fluttered, lips stretched wide, tears streaming unchecked down my cheeks.
I loved it. Loved the way he used me, loved the way he made me beg with nothing but my eyes, my tongue, my throat wrapped around him.
Richard leaned down, his voice a low growl right against my ear. “Gonna fuck your face until you’re drooling, until you forget every damn thing but me. Gonna mark you from the inside out.”
He forced my head down, hips snapping hard, rhythm brutal now, relentless. I went limp, surrendering, letting him take what he wanted, let him have all of me. The slap of his balls against my chin, the stretch of my jaw, the salt-slick taste of him—every sense overwhelmed, every inch of me claimed.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through his whole body, thighs quivering under my hands. His cock throbbed, swelling even thicker, and I knew he was close—knew he was about to give me everything.
But he held back, slowing just enough to draw out the torture, letting his cock linger at the back of my throat, letting me feel the way he trembled, the way he fought for control.
The moment Richard’s hips faltered, the need to claim him, mark him, overwhelmed everything else.
My hand tightened on his thigh, dragging myself back until I could breathe, lips spit-slick and swollen, chest heaving as I wiped the tears and mess from my face.
His cock still glistened, heavy against his abs, flushed and leaking, but I wanted more. Needed more.