Sutton
E very inch of Ben's size was a challenge, one that I relished with every fiber of my being. There was something about his girth, the way it stretched my mouth, that brought a twisted satisfaction. I always knew my body was made to worship cock, but somehow it was different with Ben.
I was worshipping all of him, not just his cock.
I took him deeper, my throat accommodating him with practiced ease. There was something about having a man in my throat that felt like the ultimate submission. I was giving everything to his pleasure, even my ability to breathe. It was especially true with someone as big as Ben. And I fucking loved it.
The room filled with the lewd sounds of wet suction, punctuated by my own ragged breathing. My hands, not content to be idle, roamed over his legs, marveling at the strength beneath my touch. But most of all, I was enjoying his cock—the way it filled me up. I was his first, and I was determined to be the best he'd ever have.
"Fuck, ," he groaned, his fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me deeper. It spurred me on, driving me to take him even deeper. My eyes watered as I pushed my limits, but the burn was exquisite—the perfect blend of pleasure and pain that made my own neglected dick throb with need.
As he grabbed my face and started to move, I reveled in the sensation of being filled, the heady feeling of submission that came with each thrust. Each moan from his lips was affirmation—I was exactly where I wanted to be. With each bob of my head, I felt his body tense, his legs quivering like taut strings plucked by my insistent mouth. His hands grew firmer, not guiding but gripping, as if he was holding on for dear life. Every small sound that escaped him was a testament to what my tongue and lips could do.
"Ah, ," he gasped out, hips bucking up into the warm cavern of my mouth. "I'm gonna—" The rest of his sentence dissolved into a guttural moan that vibrated through every fiber of my being.
I needed his cum like I needed to breathe, so I doubled down on my efforts, sucking with renewed fervor, determined to milk him dry.
And then it happened. Tension coiled and snapped, sending ripples through his muscular frame as he surrendered to the overwhelming bliss. I swallowed around him, eager to catch every drop of his cum. It was powerful, intoxicating, having someone unravel at your touch. The fact that I couldn't do the same only made it more intense, putting more of my focus on his experiences and his pleasure.
As he started to relax, I didn't pull away. Instead, I lingered, licking him clean with gentle swipes of my tongue, savoring the saltiness on my taste buds, testing to see if he was too sensitive. I held his softening cock gently in my mouth, eyes closed, breathing him in. Right then, I wasn't Holm, the rugby player with a future carved out by my father's legacy; I was just me.
The brat, the cockslut. The boy who was way too close to falling head over heels in love with Ben Torres.
"Thank you, ," Ben's voice was tender, laced with the satisfaction that I had drawn from him. He stroked my face and hair, making me want to snuggle even closer, nursing gently on his soft cock. "You're such a good boy." His words sent a wave of warmth washing over me, filling spaces inside that were too often cold and empty.
I nuzzled his thigh and backed off, licking the last of his cum off my lips as I looked up at him. His eyes were full of heat, and a tenderness that made my heart ache—no one had ever looked at me like that. I was a slut, a piece of meat, to be used and discarded. Ben looked at me like I belonged to him, and it made the frightened boy inside me want to run.
But I couldn't. His edging held me in his thrall. I was still achingly hard, my cock jutting out, begging for attention as I sunk back onto my knees, awaiting his command. Ben stood, kicking his shorts and underwear to the side, and reached down to help me to my feet. He tugged on my hand, holding on as he led me back to the bathroom. He found a packaged toothbrush in a drawer and handed it to me, then headed off to use the toilet. The mundane acts of taking care of our morning routines, brushing our teeth side-by-side, felt domestic and strangely right.
I needed to fucking come. And then I needed to run from him before I ruined his life, too.
"Let's clean up and figure out how to not let you come," he murmured, his voice low and sexy as he nudged me toward the shower.
I blinked. "Are you sure we want to do that?"
Ben squeezed my ass and I moaned. "You asked to be edged, so I'm edging you."
"Did I ask for it? Are we sure?" I batted my eyelashes at him, and he laughed and turned on the tap.
The hot water cascaded over us, steam fogging the glass as he lathered soap onto his hands. He touched me with such intent, washing away the stickiness of sweat and pre-cum. His fingers traced the lines and planes of muscle in my back, sliding effortlessly down to the curve of my ass. The teasing was exquisite torture, my body taut with anticipation and desire.
But then his touch changed, purposeful, exploring; his fingers, slick with soap, grazed over my asshole, and I shuddered, the sensation branching out like lightning through my veins. The mere thought of his massive cock inside me had my knees buckling. "You're going to fill me deeper than anyone ever has," I confessed.
"Is that what you want?" Ben's voice was heavy with arousal, his breath hot against the nape of my neck.
"Fuck, yes." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in my voice. "I want all of you, Ben. I want you to force your way inside me and claim me."
"I want that too." The single word held a weight of promise, and I leaned into him, trusting him to catch me, to push me to new heights, and hold me there, trembling on the edge. He sighed. "But this isn't anything casual. Once I claim you, I won't want to let go."
The sensation was nothing short of electric as Ben's finger breached me, slick with something, sliding inside my hole with a tentative gentleness that spoke to his inexperience. I hadn't had anything inside me in weeks, and it showed. The delicious stretch that I loved made me moan softly and press into his touch.
"So fucking tight," he murmured, his voice gravelly with lust as he worked his digit deeper. His other hand roamed across the expanse of my ass, kneading the muscled flesh with a possessiveness that made my cock twitch. "I don't even know if you can handle me."
"Jesus, Ben. I can fucking handle you," I groaned, pressing back against him, wanting more of that full feeling even as my heart raced with the thrill of it all. His inexperience was a turn-on; there was something raw about being touched by someone so new to this. "I'm the slut here, remember? You're the virgin."
I would be his first—his only. And some possessive, primal part of me that I hadn't known existed wanted to keep it like that.
He took that wrong, freezing where he stood, with one finger shoved deep inside me. "I know I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, the confession punctuated by a second finger joining the first, stretching me further. "All I have is what I've read in books, so let me know if this is wrong."
"No, it's perfect," I gasped out. The truth was, I didn't need him to be an expert. I needed him to be Ben—just Ben—with his hesitant touches and his earnest desire. "Don't stop… your hands, your body—it's all fucking perfect."
I could feel the chuckle rumbling through his chest before he pulled his fingers free and he guided me out of the shower, gently toweling me dry. The cool air of the bedroom hit my wet skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine, but it wasn't enough to calm the heat coursing through me.
"Bedroom?" he asked.
"Bedroom." My erection stood proud, red and swollen with need, as I crawled into his bed, pressing my knees into the mattress. I arched up into him, desperate for friction, contact—anything.
"I want to bite that ass every time I see it." He squeezed me, then gave me a playful slap. "Your ass is so juicy."
"So bite me," I said, wiggling my ass. He responded with a laugh, low and husky, before sinking his teeth into the firm flesh of my ass cheek. It was a sharp bite that had me yelping in surprise, then moaning as the sting transformed into a spreading warmth. "Do it again."
But he pulled away, and I heard the soft pad of his footsteps recede and then return. Opening my eyes, I saw him standing there, my bottle of lube and the small collection of toys I'd packed in hand. Among them was my favorite dildo—a modest thing in size, especially compared to the man before me.
"Fuck," I whimpered as he laid the toys beside me on the bed. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the silicone shaft. It was familiar, yes, but suddenly inadequate when held up against the promise of Ben—all of Ben—inside me.
"Patience," Ben said, though his voice betrayed his own arousal. "We've got all day, . And most of the day tomorrow." He leaned down, giving me a slow, deep kiss that somehow managed to be both comforting and maddeningly arousing.
"Ben, I—" Words failed me as I lost myself in the sensation of his lips on mine, the taste of mint and man swirling together on my tongue, pushing away the ever-present worries that clung to the edges of my mind.
"Tell me what you are."
"A slut and a brat?"
He laughed, nipping my bottom lip. "My slut. My brat."
"I don't know if you'll want to keep me once you see how much I need to be punished." I shot him a cheeky grin, trying to cover the insecurity in my words.
"Oh, I'll want to keep you, beautiful boy," he said.
Right here, right now, I was just : desired, wanted, filled with an ache for release that only Ben could provide.
Ben's fingers, slick with lube, coaxed my favorite prostate massager slowly into me. It was a deliberate, torturous journey that made my insides light up with an electric buzz of anticipation. The sensation was exquisite, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. I felt myself melting into the mattress, my body aching to give itself over to the pleasure.
"Stay with me, ," Ben murmured, his voice low and husky, as he positioned the massager just right, hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur. He wrapped a latex cock ring around the base of my cock, and it was like he'd set a timer on my need, trapping it, letting it build but not spill over.
"Ben," I gasped out, my voice strained with desperation as my hips bucked helplessly into the air. "Please…"
"Shh," he soothed, wrapping a hand around my straining erection with a slippery grip. He began to work me with long, slow strokes that were maddening in their methodical pace. "You're doing so well. But you're not there yet."
"Of course I'm fucking there. Jam that big cock in me and ride me hard," I grumped. He gave my ass a rough swat, jolting the toy inside me, and I whimpered, my arms buckling as I fell forward on the mattress.
Ben went back to my cock, and every stroke sent jolts of pleasure through me, making me writhe beneath him, my hands clutching at the sheets. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, the heat in the room nothing compared to the inferno raging within me.
"More… I need—" My begging was cut short by a particularly skillful twist of his wrist, and I pressed my hands into the sheets, shifting back against his body. "Oh fuck, this cock ring is stopping…"
"Almost there," Ben teased, but then, without warning, his touch vanished. I groaned in frustration, the absence of his hand leaving me hollow and wanting.
"Ben!" I protested, my cry somewhere between agony and ecstasy.
"Patience," he chided with a chuckle, removing the cock ring and allowing the blood to rush back into my cock, the sensitivity nearly unbearable. He turned off the massager and slowly slid it out, only to replace it with my favorite glass butt plug. The coolness of the glass was a stark contrast to the heat of my body, and it settled inside me with a satisfying fullness.
"Fuck," I breathed out, the edges of my mind fuzzy. All of my troubles, all of my fears about who I had to pretend to be, slipped away under the onslaught of sensation. In this moment, there was only Ben, his teasing hands, and the overwhelming need he stoked within me. "Why did I agree to this?"
"If you're in pain, or you need to stop, we can end it," he asked, a playful note in his voice as he observed my flushed face.
"No, it was perfect," I managed to reply, even as I squirmed against the plug, seeking more friction, more of anything to push me over the edge. But Ben was merciless, keeping me teetering on the brink, driving me wild.
"Well then, maybe we should eat something? It's past lunchtime."
He turned and walked, gloriously naked out of the room, leaving me to flop face first on the bed with a groan. But it wasn't long before I was chasing after him like an eager puppy. Soon, I was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, each inch of my skin hyperaware of Ben moving around the kitchen. The glass butt plug inside me was a constant, delicious pressure, and with each shift, I felt it nudge deeper, reminding me of the orgasm that remained frustratingly out of reach.
"We don't have to eat," I said. "You already fed me your cum."
He laughed, tying an apron around his waist, protecting his bare junk from the hot pans. "I want to take care of you."
"An orgasm would take care of me," I grumped. "A dick in my ass instead of this goddamn plug would take care of me."
"I've only been edging you for…" he glanced at his watch. "Five hours, maybe?"
"Since last night!"
"I didn't even touch you last night," Ben said, pulling out boxes of leftover rice and tossing it into a big wok, stirring it expertly.
"Last night still counts."
"Grumpy boy," Ben chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at me. He was clad in nothing but an apron, the fabric baring his pert ass, and every time he reached up to grab a spice or stir a pan, the apron would shift and give me teasing glimpses of what lay beneath. "Maybe you do need to eat. I bet your blood sugar is low."
"That's not why I'm cranky!" My voice went thick with desire as my gaze locked onto the curve of his rear as he moved with an easy grace. "Especially when you're parading around like that."
"Who says I'm parading?" he quipped, cracking a few eggs into the rice and tossing in soy sauce and sesame oil with a deftness that had my mouth watering for more than food. "This is all strategic, baby. Keeping you hungry… in every sense. For fried rice, and… well, you know."
"Tease," I accused, though the burn of anticipation threading through my veins was a feeling I craved almost as much as release.
When the meal was served, we ate with an urgency fueled by more than hunger; I needed his hands on my body more than I needed the nutrition. I would have happily starved, but his insistence on making me hydrate and get some protein in was sweet in its own way. Guys didn't take care of me like this. Even Parker hadn't been much more than a hot fuck.
Ben chatted about something as we finished our meal—but fuck if I knew what he was saying. My mind was buzzy and cloudy, focused only on one thing. Getting Ben inside me. He stood and stretched with the casual attitude of someone who had already had an orgasm that day. Jackass. Then he led me to the window, talking to me about something. The mountains in the distance, maybe, as we traded kisses.
"Want to watch a movie?" Ben asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Bedroom."
"Is that topping from the bottom?" His eyebrows shot up, and his hand landed on my ass, squeezing roughly.
"We're not in a relationship, and we don't have any boundaries set. I can be as demanding as I damn well please."
He nodded slowly. "Good point. We should establish those. Brats need firm boundaries, so they know how to get a spanking when they want one."
"What?" I yelped, covering my ass. "I didn't say I wanted a spanking."
He burst out laughing. "Just seemed like maybe you were asking for it. If not, my bad." He raised his hands, palms up, and back to face the window. His bare ass was completely distracting.
"Will it distract you from the spanking if I show you what a good boy I can be," I murmured, my voice husky with lust as I cupped his ass.
"Considering it," he said, laughter in his voice.
"Bend forward."
He complied, leaning against the table that sat under the window and presenting himself to me, his backside a canvas I was eager to explore.
I kneeled behind him and kissed my way down his ass, nuzzling his balls. Knowing he'd washed in the shower, I dipped my tongue into the crevice of his ass, then spread him with my hands. When I kissed his asshole, he pressed back against my mouth, whimpering. His vulnerability, the trust he placed in me—it was intoxicating.
Ben moaned, his fingers gripping the edge of the countertop as I ate him out, letting my stubble scratch against the sensitive skin of his cheeks as I circled his hole with my tongue, then pressed forward, entering him slowly. Each flick and lap of my tongue drew gasps and pleas from him, music to my ears.
I was the only person he'd ever had like this, and as I slowly pressed my tongue deeper inside him, that thought took hold. I circled his entrance, pressing further, stretching him out with soft flicks of my tongue.
"Fuck, ," he groaned, pushing back against me. "More."
"Anything for you," I replied, diving back in with a renewed zeal, determined to push him to the brink just as he'd done to me. I loved eating ass almost as much as I loved sucking cock. Almost as much. I kissed my way down to his balls, sucking on them, then coaxed him to spin around and got a little distracted licking and sucking his thick erection. He just tasted so good.
"Such a good boy," he murmured, stroking my hair as I sucked him. "Shall we go to the bedroom?"