SAWYER #3
But first, I pulled the hem of his T-shirt over his head.
He was so in sync with me that his arms shot up the moment he realized what I was doing, and the T-shirt was gone.
His fine, slim torso made my mouth water.
His small, light brown nipples were hard, skin prickling around them, and his chest shuddered as he inhaled.
I took my T-shirt off next, then let him take a nice, long look.
He never seemed to get bored of that. Sunday mornings, after sleeping naked in his bed all night, he repeatedly dragged his fingertips all over me, feeling me and forcing me into his memory.
I knew that was what he was doing. I was doing it, too.
Someday, I would think of him, and he would be happy with someone who was more like him and more deserving of his company.
And I would be happy for him, but happier still for the memories.
I stepped forward, letting our bodies melt into one another’s, welded by the heat we both radiated.
A little shiver accompanied each breath he drew, and every contact of my fingertips against his skin made his muscles flinch.
I adored how sensitive he was. It made even the slightest little caress feel like a tremendous gesture.
He wasn’t desensitized to the proximity of another human being.
He wasn’t so used to the touch of someone’s hand that it meant nothing to him.
He was so damn innocent and pure. It made me feel purer just to be near him.
Our brows touched. The tip of my nose brushed against his. My stomach pressed against his. “I want to do something to you,” I whispered. “I think you’re going to like it.”
He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t even flinch. “Anything.”
I kissed him, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans and then letting them slide down his legs. They remained tangled around his knees, but I didn’t worry. I would get there soon enough. For now, I kissed him as deeply and intimately as I knew how.
And when his head dropped back, and he let a moan drag out of his body, I descended to my knees.
There was so much I wanted to do with him, but time was on our side.
Two sophomores living so close to one another, we had plenty of opportunity to explore the heights and the depths of physical pleasures.
Right now, I wanted to explore a very specific sort.
Right now, I wanted to give him the absolute best I knew how.
On my knees, I pulled his pants down to his ankles and paused while he kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his jeans.
His boxer briefs had little carrots printed all over them, and I chuckled.
We’d gone through all the fruits and vegetables I could think of.
He’d worn eggplants and cucumbers and bananas and zucchinis.
Each time I saw him, he wore a new innuendo.
Extending from the middle to his right hip, his hard cock stretched the black fabric thin. Beneath it, bulging, his balls were packed tightly, and the bottom edges of his underwear wrinkled up, revealing the tender skin high on his thighs. He was ticklish there, so I didn’t touch him just yet.
Instead, I set my hands on his hips and pulled him in gently. My lips feathered the tip of his cock, and he throbbed against my mouth. Even his breath, as he exhaled, was thin and strained. He was tense all over and grabbed the arcade game’s edge with both hands to keep himself grounded.
I placed my left hand on his stomach, and he clasped it with his right, clutching me tightly like letting go would make him drift away.
He shivered as I tugged on his underwear, pulling his hard cock down with the waistband until the pressure was such that his soft moans grew louder and morphed into a grunt and a cry.
“Fuck,” he murmured just as the waistband slipped over the tip of his cock, and his length sprang to full mast.
Noah breathed freely for a moment, his chest rising and expanding, then falling.
I licked my lips while reaching gently between his legs and cupping his balls.
Smooth, big, tightening already with the unbearable lust that coursed through his veins as much as mine, I squeezed them just enough to make Noah tense but not uncomfortable.
I loved stretching him thin against the sensations I could cause.
I loved when he was strung so tightly that every breath of air on his skin made him shudder.
Pressing my left hand harder against his flat, firm stomach, I opened my mouth and took him in, sealing my lips around the head of his cock.
His precum’s sweet and salty flavor filled my mouth, the scent of soap mixed with fainter traces of his musk.
His thin and strained whimper was like the finest melody to me.
I sucked the air out of my mouth and leaned in, impaling my head on his firm and throbbing length.
He filled my mouth just perfectly, my right hand open and holding his balls, index and middle fingers reaching further between his legs and feeling his taint.
At every little touch and rub, he throbbed.
Part of me wanted to torture him until he begged for mercy of release, but the victory had put me in an especially good mood.
I pulled back and shot him a devilish grin, then stuck my two fingers deep into my mouth.
Noah used the opportunity to take himself in his hand and stroke soothingly, but it didn’t last. When my index and middle fingers were slick with saliva, I nudged his legs apart.
He was beyond words, barely inhaling enough oxygen to keep his brain running.
His sweet, smooth face was pink, and beads of sweat gathered on his wrinkled brow.
His eyebrows were high above his elegant, black glasses, and his mouth stretched open in an expression of torment and pleasure.
I reached between his legs, fingers slick and warm, and slid the tips between his cheeks. He bit down on his lower lip, cock throbbing freely, leaping and falling, swinging with its own weight.