Epilogue #2
“I’ll feast on your hole until you cry.” I spit on it and go to work again, enjoying every fucking sound he’s making. I’m stroking my dick over my pants, devouring him and taking him to heights he’s never reached.
“Sloppy and gaping,” I whisper against his soaked entrance.
“Yes,” he pants. “Yes!”
Tears are already filling his eyes, but I don’t stop. My fingers dig gently into his ass cheek, my breath hot and eager. He rocks his hips restlessly against my mouth as I keep savoring his ass with abandon.
“Going to treat this hole so damn good that when I order you to blow me, you’ll eagerly get on your knees with your tongue out.”
I rub my stubble over his pucker and surrounding sensitive skin, while clawing at the side of his legs, feeling the thigh-high fabric tearing under my nails. His fingers yank on my hair in retaliation, pulling painfully.
“I…I have to ahhhh slap you across the face again. Yes! I…that tongue. Yes, there. Fuck! Yes, I will. In a…second.”
I’m alternating quick licks around with long flattened ones, and a hard tongue-fucking with an increase in pressure. He’s lust-drunk, rolling his hips with his back arched, chest heaving. His moans are rife with starvation and bliss; they send a thrill coursing through my body.
“You spread your legs like a slut, but you’re so fucking tight.” I want to make this hole dirty with more spit and jizz before breaking it.
I release his dick from the panties’ restraint and slide it in my mouth.
Mm, love the feel of it on my tongue. One hand grips his hip, kneading it, the other moves back to his ass, and I shove three fingers in.
Two bobs of my head, and he can’t handle the pleasure from both fronts.
He comes inside my mouth, screaming my name over and over.
Thick spurts hit my tongue, and I swallow some of it, enjoying the sweet, salty taste of Art.
When his body stops jerking, I slide him down and kiss him deeply, forcing him to taste himself—which he seems to enjoy by the way he’s sucking on my tongue.
It’s so filthy I feel my dick is going to fucking explode.
I pull away and unbutton my pants. He covers my hand with his and, pushing it aside, he kneels down.
He unzips the fly with his teeth, blue eyes almost glowing—fuck that’s hot—and pulls my cock out, hard and aching.
After four days of waiting, it is finally going to get a wet hole to fuck.
Art sighs contentedly and licks his lips, almost panting.
“Open your fucking mouth,” I order, my voice deep and rough.
He fucking smiles at me before he opens wide. I tap his bottom lip with the head of my cock, sliding it over the soft flesh, making it slick with my pre-cum.
“Tongue it.” My whisper is dark and filled with consuming desire.
His warm, wet tongue touches the slit and laps at the beads of pre-cum, making me grit my teeth.
It winds around the head of my dripping cock, and he moans, continuing the circling motion.
Greedy for more of my taste. It moves on the foreskin on the side, slurping and lapping at it.
He fucking loves my uncut dick, especially when he uses the extra skin around the head of his cock when we jerk off together.
“Now suck it,” I add crudely. He still follows my demands and slowly takes me all the way down to his tight, warm throat.
I growl like a damn beast, chest heaving with quickening breaths despite how slow his mouth is moving up and down.
My cock is swelling even more inside his mouth, my hands clenching into fists at my sides, my thighs tremble as the pleasure mounts.
He is breaking me apart. Every lick of his soft tongue, every bob of his blond hair makes me shudder.
I thought I needed rough, fast movements, but the slow draw of his wet, slutty mouth is tightening my balls until I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him off my dick.
My hips jerk reflexively, my legs spread wider as my cock hits my belly. It’s red and angry-looking, all shiny with Art’s spit. So fucking hot.
“Say my name,” I order, stroking my dick over his cheek.
He nuzzles into it and gives me a mischievous grin. I hold my breath, nostrils flaring, eyes burning. The urge to grab his head and force him to take it deep again, to swallow my load, is so damn strong. But not yet.
“Say. It.” I growl out, rubbing more cock and balls over his face. I’m just one messed-up son of a bitch, seeing him like this makes me feel so fucking good.
“Luca,” he moans, letting desire drip from every letter. “I’ll…”—he mouths down my length—“milk”—slides his tongue over my balls—“you”—he sucks a ball between his lips, making my cock jerk in the air—“dry”—he smiles wickedly as he lets saliva fall on the tip.
Jesus fucking Christ. I let out a shuddering breath when he finally sucks the head into his mouth.
“Open wide and use that slutty tongue as I face-fuck you.”
I thrust my dick inside and start a merciless rhythm that makes me grunt with every pump. He’s built my pleasure slowly, and now it’s a searing bonfire. This overwhelming craving I can’t stop it—it’s burning me alive.
“You came to the door wearing only a t-shirt. You are my worthless whore. Mine. Nobody sees you like this.”
Tears are streaming down his face, his throat is making gurgling sounds while I keep pounding it, and I can feel his little nails sinking into my ass as he pushes me toward him, not away. Damn, he is a horny little demon.
I slide my hand and grip the scruff of his neck in a tight, controlling grasp, moving his mouth where I want as I keep giving it to him.
He grunts in appreciation at the possessive move.
I want to give him a mouthful of juice, but filling his asshole is my priority right now.
So I let his head go and take a step back, leaving his tight mouth.
He frowns but doesn’t complain as I pull him up and remove his t-shirt, leaving him only in silk panties, the sexiest body chain he’s ever worn, torn thigh-highs, and nail-me high heels.
I give my hard dick a couple of slow, hard pumps when he makes a pin-up, sexy-as-fuck pose. But then he turns his back to me, and the scars there make me pause. The newest ones are on me—my fault. On my preconceptions. On my stubbornness.
“What is…?” He doesn’t finish his question as he realizes what I’m looking at. He turns around, scratching his neck nervously, and with a sad look in his eyes, he says, “I can cove—”
This time I don’t let him finish. I slide my palms over his spine, feeling the familiar unevenness of his skin under my spread fingers. I look him straight in those open light blue eyes.
“We’ll fucking build our life on each scar, sole mio. Every memory we make will push the bad ones into a mental corner until there won’t be space for them anymore. I promise you that.”
His watery laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
And when his fingertips brush the marks on my face, I close my eyes, trembling, letting everything that Art is seep into me.
His wet lips brush over them next, lingering, leaving sweet, soft kisses that lighten my soul.
A single tear falls down my cheek. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.
I haven’t cried since my mother’s death, but it makes sense that he is the one awakening such a powerful emotion inside me.
His tongue wipes the tear away as it scoops it with the wet tip.
“I missed you so much.” He breathes out, letting his mouth touch mine. The kiss starts sweet and lovely, but soon lust prevails. “Please, I’m aching, fuck me, baby.”
Everything for my sun.
“On the ottoman, doggy style,” I order him as I take off my necktie.
“Woof!” His playful bark makes me pull harder than necessary on the fabric.
I begin undressing as he climbs on top of the ottoman, which is the perfect height for a hard pounding.
The pink stones trail down from his neck to his stomach, separating there to display his flat belly and frame his hips beautifully.
The ruined thigh-highs and red heels give him a debauched look.
He is pure sex. But it’s my necklace on his pale skin that makes my dick twitch, as I look at the symbol of my ownership and love.
I pull down my pants, and he suddenly springs up.
“What’re those?” He points at my lilac boxers with his name embroidered on them. An unreadable expression on his face.
“Fly made them for me.” I shrug. Marco handed them to me in Boston. It was a very belated birthday present.
Art still doesn’t say a word as I keep pulling off clothes.
“Do you hate it?” I thought he’d love seeing his name on my dick.
“No!” His voice breaks, his eyes look shiny. “This is amazing, and I’ve been miserable these days without you while you look fucking great, all smiling and cool, and your big dick is the best, and I hate you.” He continues blabbering while flailing his arms.
“It’s been fucking hard for me too, Art,” I declare, dropping the last garment on the floor, except for the necktie.
“It has?” His palms find my chest hair as soon as I get closer to him.
“Of fucking course.”
He smiles, seemingly happy about my past-few-days’ misery. “I hate-love you so fucking much.”
“Good.” I bite and suck his lower lip.
“This lube is making me all tingly and hot inside,” he whimpers.
Fuck yeah, need to buy a truckload of it. Love to see him squirming for me.
“Show me,” I whisper darkly.
His panting chest quickly spins around as he goes on all fours. That’s what I’m talking about. I think about peeling off his silky panties with my teeth, but fuck it. I use my hands and tear them just enough to get to his asshole.
He moans and trembles in front of me. Fucking perfect. I tell him to open up and dangle the necktie near his face before I use it to cover his mouth. But he pushes it down.